The Nature of Life
Life is fragile.
Life is fleeting.
Life is beautiful.
Life is hard.....
I have had so many reminders of these facts in the past week, it would be hard to write about anything else. My mind is all over the place, and my heart is torn apart. On Friday I witnessed some of the most precious and devastating moments shared by a family, and I know those memories will be burned into my mind forever. My best friend since I was six years old stood vigil by her mother's hospital bed when I walked in, her sister sat in a chair at the foot of the bed, and her father- a man who was the kind of husband they write fairy tales about- was lying next to her in the bed, his forehead pressed to hers, his arms around her, his lips uttering the promises she needed to hear before she could find her eternal peace. The scene was heart-wrenching and comforting all at once. I held my best friend as her knees shook and her tears flowed, I held her for what felt like forever as my own tears rolled down my face. It was pure sorrow mixed with pure love...overwhelming. My friend's mom had suffered a massive stroke two days prior to that, and there was no hope of recovery. It was only a matter of waiting for her body to shut down and her soul to be ready to leave, and that process took four days. On Tuesday she was at the polls with her husband, eager to cancel out his Republican vote with her Democratic one. On Saturday she breathed her last breath.
Life is fragile.
Later on Saturday night, another loss reverberated through my circle of friends when a much-loved local DJ/musician I knew was shot and killed in front of his house in Riverwest. The motive for the shooting is unknown, the killer still at large, and unanswered questions abound in the wake of such tragedy. The EDM community is coming together to throw a benefit concert for his family, where the people who knew him can celebrate his life accordingly...by dancing all day and all night. I will definitely be donning my dance shoes for the occasion, because who really knows how early or late the flame of their life will be extinguished? We must dance while we can. This friend who was shot and killed was only 33 years old...his life was stolen from him far too soon.
Life is fleeting.
While life was nearing its end for some, I was listening raptly to a man I'd never met before tell me he could change my life forever. As most of you know, I have been plagued by addiction and mental health issues for the better part of two decades now, and although I would consider myself to be in a good place at this point in my life, I am never free of the desire to self-destruct in some way. I hate to put that in writing, but it is the truth. Keeping my shit together is exhausting. Managing my anxiety is exhausting. Living with PTSD is exhausting. Fighting the urge to sink a needle in my arm is, some days, exhausting. Sometimes I'm not sure I'll survive. So to hear someone tell me that four days of therapy could alter my brain to the point where I will no longer be negatively affected by these things on a mental or physical level was like a dream come true...or too good to be true. I guess I will find out. I'm doing the therapy just before Christmas. I have nothing to lose. And if it works, it'll be the best gift I've ever received. To live without the weight of this baggage I've been dragging around all these years...I can't even imagine how beautiful that would be...no longer being my own worst enemy...no longer being afraid of relapse, jail, prison, missing out on my son's life, never fulfilling my potential, dying too young, hurting the people I love the most, hurting myself...no longer being plagued by the trauma of my past. I am filled with hope at the prospect of a life better than I have ever known. I feel the promise of joy...
Life is beautiful.
Finally, on Saturday night, I learned that my best friend lost her fight with her own demons, the demons we share. She was arrested for her fourth DUI and is in custody awaiting another inevitable trip to prison. I was devastated by the news, but not necessarily shocked. She had been struggling for months, but it seemed like she was finally starting to get it together. She was in outpatient treatment, had finally detoxed off of heroin completely after several months of failed attempts, and was about to get the vivitrol shot. She had found a job and was waiting to start, and she talked about furthering her education again. There is nothing that separates me from her. She is one of the most intelligent, articulate, compassionate, and beautiful people I know. She has a sense of humor that can't be matched. She was accepted to Ivy League colleges at age 15, but was never able to attend because tragedy struck her family, and she was pushed into the role of a caretaker. That's when addiction found her, and fourteen years later it still has her. We became friends during her longest stretch of sobriety, which was four years, and whether she is sober or she is using, I will never stop loving her or believing in her or being there for her. I won't jeopardize my own progress by keeping her too close, but I won't give up on her either. Because I know better than anyone that life is hard...and no one should have to go through the hard times alone.
It has been a difficult week. I don't feel as strong as I wish I did. But I'm going to keep doing what I'm doing, and I'm going to keep spilling my guts in this blog because it may be the only thing holding me together some days. Thank you all for reading my craziness. Much love to all of you.
Life is fleeting.
Life is beautiful.
Life is hard.....
I have had so many reminders of these facts in the past week, it would be hard to write about anything else. My mind is all over the place, and my heart is torn apart. On Friday I witnessed some of the most precious and devastating moments shared by a family, and I know those memories will be burned into my mind forever. My best friend since I was six years old stood vigil by her mother's hospital bed when I walked in, her sister sat in a chair at the foot of the bed, and her father- a man who was the kind of husband they write fairy tales about- was lying next to her in the bed, his forehead pressed to hers, his arms around her, his lips uttering the promises she needed to hear before she could find her eternal peace. The scene was heart-wrenching and comforting all at once. I held my best friend as her knees shook and her tears flowed, I held her for what felt like forever as my own tears rolled down my face. It was pure sorrow mixed with pure love...overwhelming. My friend's mom had suffered a massive stroke two days prior to that, and there was no hope of recovery. It was only a matter of waiting for her body to shut down and her soul to be ready to leave, and that process took four days. On Tuesday she was at the polls with her husband, eager to cancel out his Republican vote with her Democratic one. On Saturday she breathed her last breath.
Life is fragile.
Later on Saturday night, another loss reverberated through my circle of friends when a much-loved local DJ/musician I knew was shot and killed in front of his house in Riverwest. The motive for the shooting is unknown, the killer still at large, and unanswered questions abound in the wake of such tragedy. The EDM community is coming together to throw a benefit concert for his family, where the people who knew him can celebrate his life accordingly...by dancing all day and all night. I will definitely be donning my dance shoes for the occasion, because who really knows how early or late the flame of their life will be extinguished? We must dance while we can. This friend who was shot and killed was only 33 years old...his life was stolen from him far too soon.
Life is fleeting.
While life was nearing its end for some, I was listening raptly to a man I'd never met before tell me he could change my life forever. As most of you know, I have been plagued by addiction and mental health issues for the better part of two decades now, and although I would consider myself to be in a good place at this point in my life, I am never free of the desire to self-destruct in some way. I hate to put that in writing, but it is the truth. Keeping my shit together is exhausting. Managing my anxiety is exhausting. Living with PTSD is exhausting. Fighting the urge to sink a needle in my arm is, some days, exhausting. Sometimes I'm not sure I'll survive. So to hear someone tell me that four days of therapy could alter my brain to the point where I will no longer be negatively affected by these things on a mental or physical level was like a dream come true...or too good to be true. I guess I will find out. I'm doing the therapy just before Christmas. I have nothing to lose. And if it works, it'll be the best gift I've ever received. To live without the weight of this baggage I've been dragging around all these years...I can't even imagine how beautiful that would be...no longer being my own worst enemy...no longer being afraid of relapse, jail, prison, missing out on my son's life, never fulfilling my potential, dying too young, hurting the people I love the most, hurting myself...no longer being plagued by the trauma of my past. I am filled with hope at the prospect of a life better than I have ever known. I feel the promise of joy...
Life is beautiful.
Finally, on Saturday night, I learned that my best friend lost her fight with her own demons, the demons we share. She was arrested for her fourth DUI and is in custody awaiting another inevitable trip to prison. I was devastated by the news, but not necessarily shocked. She had been struggling for months, but it seemed like she was finally starting to get it together. She was in outpatient treatment, had finally detoxed off of heroin completely after several months of failed attempts, and was about to get the vivitrol shot. She had found a job and was waiting to start, and she talked about furthering her education again. There is nothing that separates me from her. She is one of the most intelligent, articulate, compassionate, and beautiful people I know. She has a sense of humor that can't be matched. She was accepted to Ivy League colleges at age 15, but was never able to attend because tragedy struck her family, and she was pushed into the role of a caretaker. That's when addiction found her, and fourteen years later it still has her. We became friends during her longest stretch of sobriety, which was four years, and whether she is sober or she is using, I will never stop loving her or believing in her or being there for her. I won't jeopardize my own progress by keeping her too close, but I won't give up on her either. Because I know better than anyone that life is hard...and no one should have to go through the hard times alone.
It has been a difficult week. I don't feel as strong as I wish I did. But I'm going to keep doing what I'm doing, and I'm going to keep spilling my guts in this blog because it may be the only thing holding me together some days. Thank you all for reading my craziness. Much love to all of you.
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