The Tale of the Many Faced Girl

I don’t want to write.

I feel angry, sad, less hopeful, terrified, and many more emotions that probably do not exist, nor have a name on this planet; basically I feel like I am backed into a corner.  The need to apologize to you, the reader, keeps resonating within me.  I’m sorry for what seems like a very “downing” introduction to this entry and I’m sorry I am not at the point in this journey to where I can excitedly describe to you about all the fuzzy warm feelings I’ve had hugging me all day like a snuggie; I’m not a fan of those things unfortunately for those who may be, and I doubt that they’re warmth makes you want to jump off a couch, declaring to the world how happy you are.  If the latter is true, I’ll take one in every color.  Surprisingly, as I continue to write and crack what seems to me like the lamest of jokes, I’m feeling a little less hazy; I guess there is some benefit to getting your feelings out and avoiding holding them within, which is what I felt like doing for the rest of the night.  Thank you lack of motivation.

Surprisingly, as I continue to write and crack what seems to me like the lamest of jokes, I’m feeling a little less hazy; I guess there is some benefit to getting your feelings out and avoiding holding them within,

Anyway.  Let’s try to pick up the beat in this letter in A minor.  

Well, today is Sunday.  I got up with every intention of going to church, as we routinely do on Sunday as a family.  Let’s be honest though, I didn’t really feel like going, I was unmotivated; this was the start of my tale of the many faced girl today.  Me, if you were wondering who the many faced girl was (not arya stark:)).  I begged my husband for 20 more minutes to rest in bed before we would work together harmoniously to get the kids up, fed, and ready to go, but at this point over all of these months of caring for me in this lowly state, it’s like he already knows my intentions or my thoughts before they are even thought of.

Therefore, I got five more minutes in bed, better then nothing, and then we finally were on our way to the church after my husband waited patiently for me to get ready by watching the movie “Race” and I felt a small sense of panic as I passed the clock that read 10:08 am; late for church once again, but at least we were only eight minutes behind schedule this time.  My panic subsided as we drove the measly few minutes down the streets of our neighborhood to get to the house of refuge, the place where no matter how low I felt on the scale of depression, I could always count on feeling one or two points higher at the end of the service.  I’ve always gone to church.  Church and God have always been with me, but today’s encounter was a little different then others.

So much has been going on in the world, particularly within this nation, especially this week.  I don’t think I need to expound on it; social media and the media at large have made it so everyone, even the amish I’m certain, know about the most recent compelling events.  There was a lot of crying today, mostly by men with brown skin who seem to feel a deep connection with those that lost their life tragically this week.  Already feeling without motivation and that familiar haze of lowness, I once again gave my sacrifice of praise and felt moved emotionally by the wales of those who have been hurt by the pains of this life; these sounds weren’t uncommon to hear, especially when the preacher tells tales of how fortunate we are and many cry, including me, in joy thinking about their life, but hearing those dark cries had an affect on me.  I admit I started to feel a mix of hopefulness and a deeper haze of lowness; some combination.

There was a lot of crying today, mostly by men with brown skin who seem to feel a deep connection with those that lost their life tragically this week.

My baby, Sage, was clinging to me more then ever today for some reason, and that strange mix of spiritual fogginess I was feeling, had me feeling more like pulling away for a break from her rather then welcoming more of her loving dances of affection on me that often distract me from listening more intently at the words of the preacher.  This sounds sad and I feel sad for thinking it; I feel sad for confessing it, but I know I am not alone.  We who feel these feelings in silence, need to be able to grieve the affects of these feelings openly and without shame.  There is freedom in honesty.

I made it through to the end of the church service, pushed through the urge to pull away from the warm embraces of my baby by relying on derrick for immediate assistance, and somehow maintained a stoic face, though I was internally on edge.  I wanted to make a break for the door, because I knew this internal struggle needed to be caged, in fear of the face that could appear in any minute.  The stoic persona I was trying so hard to put on, must have been well played, because instead of immediately heading to the car, my husband felt like all was well enough to venture to the church annex.  Smells of delicious food and sounds of happy people connected with my senses as we walked south of the direction of the car.  My internal struggle continued and I felt more anxious about the idea of not retreating to the car, but I felt like I had to do something “normal” for a change; offer a sacrifice for my family for a change.

My internal struggle continued and I felt more anxious about the idea of not retreating to the car, but I felt like I had to do something “normal” for a change; offer a sacrifice for my family for a change

That sacrifice was the wrong thing to give at that time. You see, I learned something once we got home from the day’s activities that I wish I could have utilized from that moment of misplaced sacrifice until now.  My husband found a wonderful resource to help me with my struggles (he’s such a gift and so admirable for honoring his vows of “in sickness”).  I learned that when you are feeling depressed, FEEL depressed.  Don’t add or take anything away from being in that moment.  There’s no use resisting it or feeding into it and thinking negative thoughts, such as ” why me?”; it will only make you feel worse.  

Looking back at that moment that I made that sacrifice in the halls of the church annex, maybe I could have changed the events that transpired with that sound advice.  In that moment, as I sat in the annex of the church finishing the last few drops of the ultra sweet lemonade we were offered, I waited for my husband while he honorably moped up a spill he made at the hands of our infant.  I felt the wave of panic continue to intensify within me.  My heart felt forceful, my breathing was intense, and I felt hopeless about how I would climb out of this emotional pit, but yet confused about why I was having such intense symptoms that were out of my control.  Mindfulness wasn’t the answer today and the sounds of everyone talking while Sage intensified her loving dances of affection on me, were not making the situation any better.

Mindfulness wasn’t the answer today and the sounds of everyone talking while Sage intensified her loving dances of affection on me, were not making the situation any better.

No longer could I maintain a stoic persona.  My face melted into a state of freight and I pleaded with my husband for us to leave immediately.  At that moment, all I could think about was myself and being able to breathe again.  I couldn’t think about sacrificing at the expense of further pain anymore.  As usual, as soon as we were out of the trap that held my feelings captive and my mind was able to get a little air, the guilt creeped in.

How great would it have been to just FEEL anxious and all the symptoms that came with it instead of resisting and acting “normal”?  Maybe, I wouldn’t have had the face of turmoil due to my deeper fall into feeling unmotivated.  But, I should find the positive from that situation and live to fail again.  So I kept living and breathing as we packed the girls into the car.  My mood definitely affected my husband and he now was mentally exhausted and wanted to go home, but I didn’t.

For some odd reason, a place of relaxation and rest, heck, a place where depression can have a party, was the one place I didn’t want to go.  I oddly didn’t want to go home and continue to FEEL trapped, because I still needed more time to breathe.  So I convinced my husband, who was now plagued with the spirit of no motivation, to give me a chance to recover and do something I use to love to do; go look at homes for sale.  After a few minutes of resistance, we decided to go to an open house we stumbled upon on the streets of Germantown, near downtown Nashville Tennessee.  I’m glad I chose to keep breathing.

I‘m glad I chose to keep breathing.

What progress I have made.  Days of old, I would suffocate in agony, feeling stuck in a low state with no way out or no motivation to find a way out.  I recognized that going home wouldn’t help me and I gave myself a chance to FEEL how I felt in this new “normal” state of being.

The moment we parallel parked outside of the beautiful decorated row house, a new trend in the downtown Nashville housing market, I felt a glimmer of excitement that I haven’t experienced much in a long time.  For two days in a row now, I did something that I “use” to enjoy BD (before depression).  It felt good to roam through the rooms of a fresh home with clean finishes and imagine how I would decorate each unique space.  Thinking about it right now gives me mental clarity.  What a great feeling to feel joy for things that you had forgotten how to feel joy for.

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New Row house in Germantown, Nashville, TN

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I was hot on the rooftop terrace, but I didn’t care in that moment.  Overlooking the beautiful sites of downtown Nashville and being with my family in a state of near well being, felt so right. My tale of many faces finally reached what seemed to be a pinnacle, but that tale was not yet over for the day, and thinking about it now with more mental clarity, I’m ok with that.

We got home safely after feeling such an unfamiliar high, as a family, that we hadn’t had in a while, wishing we stayed around Germantown an extra 20 minutes to take an historic tour of another new home in the neighborhood.  The girls drifted off into a slumber and my husband took some time to continue to bask in his good feelings by admiring the scenery on our own back porch, but I walked into yet another space of lack of motivation.  I had calls to make and things to do, but was physically unable to push my self to do it; and just like that, in a matter of minutes, I was back in a lowly state with a face that felt as if it would morph into a position mimicking the faces that I imagine came along with the wales of those in the church.

Eerily,  I was ok with not being ok.  I followed the advice of the wise individual my husband stumbled upon on the world wide web today.  I didn’t add anything or take anything away from how I felt in that moment.  I had no motivation, so I did the bear minimum.  I didn’t want to talk, so I didn’t.  Today wasn’t a tragic tale.  It was simply just a tale.

I want to live on to fail again.

2 Comments

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  1. Sherryl Jarman-Hill July 11, 2016 — 9:45 pm

    You’ll get through this,dear! I isolate myself, which is one of the reasons I live alone. I used to drink it away, a lot. My Mom did sedatives as far back as I can remember.4 kids all under 10 and my Dad overseas a lot weakened her. Me, a baby and disabilities at 17 weakened me. These days I find I’m better on my own. It seems antisocial, but, me drunk or on Prozac is not cool. Diabetes means I can’t drink. On Prozac, I don’t eat. When I GET around more than 10 people I tend to chatter.I hate chatter. What used to work for me was running, can’t do that anymore. Driving did it, just driving. No destination. Well, driving to my Grandmother’s house in Leesburg,Fla and, just sitting there by the railroad tracks or walking them used to calm me. These days, watching tv, the Bible Study I lead on Tues mornings and sometimes walking helps. I wish I had a car. I live in one of the most beautiful areas ever. I’d probably drive and drive, and drive. I hope writing helps you, dear. It used to help when I was a kid, these days it frustrates. Find what works for you, baby. Writing, touring houses(my Mom liked that,too and malls.), whatever feels normal for you. I’m just trying not to become agoraphobic. It’s too hot to go anywhere, now. I tell you what.. I’ll pray for you, you pray for me, ok??? I love you!!! Aunti S. Guess, I’ll see you,here.

    Like

  2. Reblogged this on a mental life and commented:

    “I want to live on to fail again”

    Like

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