The title is an ode to boygenius' song "Anti-Curse." I cannot take the credit. I always thought it was cool I share half a name with Julien Baker. We share Rose. We share Baker.
In the time I posted my last big post/update (May 8, 2022) until now (June 14, 2023 - in case you were wondering), there have been a few things I've been mulling about in my mind palace. More specifically, I have been graciously watering a collection of thoughts and concepts that I have all connected together. In my depressed and addled brain, my connections make sense to me. In hopes that this will reach someone else, I'll drop my thoughts into the ether to see if anyone picks up what I'm saying.
1) First, I'll present a well-loved quote by Kurt Vonnegut: "And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, 'If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.'" I see the first half of that quote being posted in various places: half-hearted shares on Facebook or cursive print on Pinterest. "I urge you to please notice when you are happy." I typically don't re-read my previous blog posts. However, my curiosity struck the other day and I impulsively scanned through all my previous blog posts. When I was young, I was hopeful. The past couple years I have continually posted "Dear reader, I am sad" in some various format. This is true. I find vulnerability and emotionality to be my strengths time and time again, so I'll share. I'm also not sure who actually takes the time to read these blog posts but I have gotten good remarks and compliments throughout the years on my writing. Thus, I continue to write. On June 2, I wanted to die. I wanted to die very badly. I haphazardly wrote a note, locked myself in my mom's bathroom with a knife and bleach, texted my loved ones, and proceeded to cry, dissociate, and panic for five hours. I texted a suicide hotline. I eventually texted my mom and told her that I was not doing well. A couple of mental health appointments later and I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder and prescribed Zoloft. It doesn't come as a shock as I am aware of the lengthy history of mood disorders in my family. I also have been sad for so long. Since June 2, I've been taking time to chill (as the kids say) and rest. I deleted a lot of my social media in the past couple weeks. A quote from one of my best friends' ex rings in my mind: "Social media is the devil at work." It's true. The break has been nice. I've been reading a lot more and catching up on movies/shows.
My own struggle with suicidal ideation is one that I am open to talking about and something that I was also wildly nervous to share. As someone with a MA in forensic psychology, I am no stranger to the world of mental health. And yet, I am so afraid my own depressive tendencies make me a bad clinician. I remind myself that through my vulnerability lies my strength. The therapist who did my intake looked at me softly during the session and said "You are a good clinician," as I shared my fears. Vonnegut challenges us to think "'If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.'" While my own mental health has been hell these past two weeks, I have also challenged myself to grasp onto the good things. My suicidal ideation most often presents itself as two thoughts: 1. There is no future that sounds appealing enough to live in and 2. Is this all life has to offer? I feel trapped. I want out.
The other day, I walked half an hour in the Kansas City humidity and heat with my youngest sister. We walked from Walmart to Target - the epitome of a summertime suburban afternoon. There's a bit of a story as to why we walked 30 minutes in the scorching heat from one big department store to the other, but I digress. We listened to Ben Folds and took off our shoes while meandering down neighborhood sidewalks. We moved our feet from the burning pavement and into the cool grass. This moment was pretty good. Maybe life is about moments like this? I felt peaceful. Perhaps the meaning of life lies here.
2) Anyone who knows me knows Pinegrove is one of my favorite bands. If you've been any type of friend of mine, you'll know I carry around my trusty, "comfort" water-bottle with me mostly everywhere.
Pictured beneath this section is my Pinegrove water bottle covered in Pagosa Springs snow for reference (PS: please ignore my ex-situationship's hand in the pic. Hi Kevin, if you're reading this).
In the song "On Jet Lag" by Pinegrove, Evan Stephens Hall references Vonnegut during the chorus. I am not here to talk about "On Jet Lag." I just had to tie Pinegrove to Vonnegut somehow. I am here to talk about their song "Darkness" and more particularly the lyrics "Some people spend their whole lives looking for someone who could understand - while meanwhile a lilac blooming, sometimes on the driest land." My interpretation of this is essentially "the grass is greener on the other side" and a criticism of that. I desperately want to feel understood in my relationships and especially my romantic relationships. I'm both elated and disturbed when I see my exes move on. Not that I want to see them obsessed with me (I'm hot shit though) but because it's a weird sensation to see someone you once loved become a stranger again. There's also freedom because just like they have moved on, I also get to move on. They should have that option just like I should have that option. In many ways, I feel like I have a torch lit for these people I've loved. Since moving to Kansas City, I have listened to Arcade Fire's "The Suburbs." It has provided me an immense amount of hope, nostalgia, and inspiration. The album has been a jolt of energy and beauty on my dullest of days. I have an ex to thank for that. On my most depressed days, I've watched Joe Pera Talks with You. I've cried all over again while re-watching that gem of a show. It's been a warm blanket in my life on the achiest of sad days. I'm dismal when I think of my ex and also comforted by the fact that incredible human being brought this beauty to me.
I am happy for my exes and I also despise the fact that they have moved on. Whether that is to other relationships or just over me in general, I feel like I am desperately holding onto some emotion to keep the relationship alive. There is no choice but to let go. And by letting go, I get the opportunity to feel what I felt again with another human (or with an ex at some point in the future - be prepared to be surprised, as the kids say). By holding onto longing, I am neglecting my own personal lilac - something that has potential to grow if I take my six-year-old self by her soft hands and help her find the flowers growing in her melancholy heart.
3) Evan Stephens Hall from Pinegrove graduated from a college in Ohio that David Foster Wallace spoke at a mere six years prior. Many people know his commencement speech "This is Water." I remember talking about "This is Water" with one of my best friends way back when when we were in high school. Before present day 25-year-old Hannah discovered existentialism and Kierkegaard and therapy, 16-year-old Hannah clutched onto David Foster Wallace and old Bo Burnham videos before he became mainstream. One of David Foster Wallace's quotes in "This is Water" states, "Probably the most dangerous thing about an academic education - least in my own case - is that it enables my tendency to over-intellectualize stuff, to get lost in abstract argument inside my head, instead of simply paying attention to what is going on right in front of me, paying attention to what is going on inside me." As I've stated before, much of my growth in my own journey of therapy and mental health is actually feeling my emotions instead of thinking about my emotions. I love emotions. I've been told I'm an emotional person. I react with my emotions and I'm aware of why I'm reacting the way I am. I'm constantly refining and assessing how I am feeling about a present situation. I'm a perfectionist in the sense that if I am not responding to my emotions (or at least if I am not aware of them), I'm doing myself a disservice and not being genuine to the true essence of who I am as a person.
Back a couple weeks ago when I wanted to die and was pretty sure I'd be cranking out the modern-day version of Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar in a matter of days before I called it quits, I realized how self-centered I am. I will obviously offer myself grace. We are all human. We are all selfish. But I was doing myself a disservice by not digging into other people's lives. I love boundaries. I grew up in a household where boundaries were not well established so I grew up oscillating between no boundaries and an impenetrable wall. However, there's much to be learned by asking other people the hard questions - by digging into what's going on with their lives, whether that's the wedding gift they put on their registry that they're stressing to get or how they have been grieving with their child's death. While I realize my own experience is holy and valid, another human's is just as holy and valid. To lean in and listen (not just for my own benefit of getting out of my own mentally ill brain) and understand, I realize "this is water." Human experience is vast and real. It's an honor to take care of myself and take care of others.
4) Suicide is a tricky topic but it is one that is popping up frequently in this post. I think about it often. In one of Anthony Bourdain's last interviews, he stated, "To sit alone or with a few friends, half-drunk under a full moon, you just understand how lucky you are; it's a story you can't tell. It's a story you almost by definition, can't share. I've learned in real time to look at those things and realize: I just had a really good moment."
I went and saw Bourdain's documentary with my cousin Cooper one summer evening. It's very good. I would recommend it. That was in the summer of 2021. My grandmother passed and I was experiencing many existential crises because of that and also despite it. I was nursing a heartbreak and coming to terms with how rapidly family dynamics were changing. It was two years ago, yet some memories are vibrant in my mind. The evening after my grandmother passed, Cooper and I fell asleep on the couches in the basement while watching Nomadland. He had recently introduced me to the likes of Damien Jurado and Mount Eerie so I was soaking up that sad, sad indie folk. I felt incredibly comforted by our shared levels of sadness and collective watching of a movie that I would describe as desolate. Life feels unreal when I'm reminded of moments where I was deeply grieving and also felt held and loved. It is duality in its essence. I think of falling asleep during Nomadland. I think of "Moon, I Already Know" by Mount Eerie:
"Moon, I already know I'm small on the ground
I roll around and feel menacing mountains
And all depths of sorrow dwarf me
All towering terrors are mine to cower below
I know, I know, I know already
So don't look at me like that and then
Duck behind clouds
I know I'm small and that I have no idea
I know, I know, I know
Let me be dumb again
Let food drip off my chin
Let me think you're a light
Please, please let me sleep through the night unknowing
Let me close eyes"
4) Damien Jurado has a song called "Rachel & Cali" that I love. As you're probably aware of the theme of me picking apart quotes and lyrics, I present "Sometimes I wish you knew how I keep living for you. A friend is only a lover you're not committed to." As I've stated in many posts, platonic love has kept me alive. I think we should absolutely be focusing way more attention on platonic love as opposed to romantic love. Don't get me wrong, romantic love is one of the absolute greatest things we can have in this life. I just think we don't honor platonic love as much as we should. These lyrics speak to me because I cherish my friends so deeply and hold their opinions so highly that I am convinced they are my soulmates. Obviously, interpret the lyrics as you will - for subjectivity's sake and all that.
My relationships with my friends are incredible protective factors for me. I think they helped me thrive when I was not emotionally thriving as a child (or as an adult, let's be real). I think they helped me feel loved when I wasn't lovable.
I've been working on talking to myself like I would a friend. When I struggle to advocate for myself, I remember I am advocating for my younger self.
5) To continue the theme of my music taste and to tie into earlier references, I will conclude with how Arcade Fire's "The Suburbs (Continued)" has provided me promise.
I was in Denver about a month ago. I reconnected with someone who I had been casually seeing when I lived there. In the few days I was there, we hung out for about 24 hours which is a long time for me. The morning I was there, we stayed cuddled up in bed, drifting in and out of sleep until 1pm. In his defense, he had just run a marathon the day prior and in my defense, I was experiencing hypersomnia from my depressive episode. Between him saying "I just like hanging with you" and us both agreeing if we could sleep in until 1pm every day that life would be pretty sweet, the lyrics of "The Suburbs" floated through my head: "If I could have it back, all the time that we wasted, I'd only waste it again." The greatest stuff of life lies in the quiet moments. It lies in the moments that I am cuddling next to a human and choosing to ignore the world for hours. It's in the moments of walking through the suburbs with my sister. It's in the moments that I'm watching BoJack Horseman with my youngest sister outside a Walmart and she tells me BoJack reminds her of our father. It's the promise that I could see my future nephew take his first steps. Maybe I'll eventually get my LPC. It's the promise that I could go back for more education. It's the promise that someday soon I can share margaritas with my friends. It's the promise that soon this depression may lift and I'll remember what it felt like to be happy again. My poems may cease to be solely lamentations.
While I am writing this I resonate with Arcade Fire's lyrics. The lyrics are a warning that everything passes. We bottle up what good moments we have like dandelion wine. But as life presents duality after duality, these lyrics are also a testament to the dark days being behind us eventually:
"Sometimes I can't believe it, I'm moving past the feeling again."
And a photoshoot I did as an effort to reconnect with the little Hannah inside of me (plus some other pictures):
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