2002
"I look inside myself and see my heart is black..."
I see my red door and must have it painted black
Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts
It's not easy facin' up when your whole world is black...."
It seemed like those lyrics had been repeating for hours. Technically, they were, as I had the song on repeat for a couple of hours. For whatever reason, it seemed like I was only actually listening when Mick plaintively wailed those words. I tried to sit up to turn up the volume a bit but I was going nowhere. My body was not listening to anything my brain was telling it to do.
I was scared but excited when he handed me the pills. A party favor, a gift from one "party" friend to another. We always shared whatever we came across. My drug use had escalated from the occasional joint to running to the ATM for whatever I could get my hands on. Anything, everything, to try to numb the pain. More than just pain. Grief, stress, regret, anger, fucking insane hatred, despair....mostly the despair. The feeling that nothing would ever, ever be good. Even the "good" things didn't feel good.
He warned me to only take half. In a strange way, he did care about me. We understood each other, the need to make it all go away. Even though he kept going deeper and deeper in, he would try to never let me get too far. By the time I got home, though, the demons were screaming and I figured that if he thought half would give me a easy night, the whole thing would send me into oblivion, give me the sleep I so desperately sought. The nervous adrenaline rush coursed through my veins and into my stomach, making me nauseous and hesitant as I poured a glass of water. "Fuck it," I thought. "God doesn't love me enough to let me die." I swallowed it down.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
It's haunted me for years. Literally a double digit amount of years that I just haven't cared. It's not that I wanted to die, I just didn't care if I lived. Passive suicide. Binging, starving, smoking, drinking, drugs, destructive relationships, dangerous situations, party party party. I honestly never thought I would get lucky enough to actually die.
Life has always been hard for me. All the things that everybody else does easily, happily, to thrive and be productive, have always been a struggle. The biggest has been eating. I can't just eat for nutrition, eat for sustenance, eat for life. Punishment was necessary, starving myself until I would break and binging until I couldn't feel anymore. Food is always there, my worst enemy and my dearest friend. The one entity that has never abandoned me. The one tool that is always available for self-flagellation. I would find other things that would work for awhile, that would comfort me then hurt me so badly, then comfort me all over again. Just like all the relationships and friendships I chose for myself. But food is what I've always gone back to.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door and must have it painted black
Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts
It's not easy facin' up when your whole world is black....."
That damn lyric again. I knew why I heard it on every rotation. It was the reason I listened to the song obsessively. I felt like it was my soul pressed onto a CD. I felt like it explained everything, and it was like a balm to all of my rough edges. My chest was getting heavier. I concentrated on every breath, feeling like if I stopped reminding myself to breathe, it wouldn't happen. I counted my heartbeats, and felt them getting slower. For a moment I considered calling someone, anyone, just so another human being would know what was happening to me. I couldn't get my arm to reach over for the cell phone lying next to my head. I finally gave up. "Fuck it. I couldn't get lucky enough to overdose," I decided, and let myself go into the abyss, handing my fate over to karma, closing my eyes, giving in. I didn't care enough to try.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Two weeks ago, it was like something turned on. Or rather, off. I have everything a girl could ever ask for in life...a breathtakingly wonderful husband, beautifully perfect children, a lovely home, great friends, a burgeoning career. But nothing, no matter how improved my situation became, could satisfy me. Nothing could make me truly happy, feel the peace I've been searching for since childhood. No relationship was deep enough, no drug was strong enough, my husband could never love me quite enough to sate my aching heart. But all of a sudden, it's like a whole new world.
I haven't been binging or starving. I've been eating normally. Healthily normally, even. I quit the drugs long ago, but I haven't been sneaking the occasional hidden cigarette or having my nightly drink either. I've been working out, happily. I don't want to hide from the world. I want to talk to friends, I want to rekindle lost connections, I want to love everybody that I've just been faking it with for so fucking long.
I feel things. I feel love, deep, unbreakable love that steals your breath and and fills every need. I feel pain, I feel happiness, I even feel anger. I've been numb for so long now that the emotions are overwhelming, but so, so relieving.
I want to live. I don't even just want to live, I want to thrive. It's amazing, astonishing, completely foreign...it is what I have been searching for. I also don't quite know what to do with it yet. I'm absolutely petrified it will leave me again, and I don't know if I can handle going back to the depths of a lifelong depression, if you can call it that, depression seems like the understatement of the century. But I do know I'm going to keep working towards making it last forever. I'm going to live. I'm going to thrive. I'm going to feel.
Posts
