turning around to see - ending up in a dance

**WARNING** There is quite possibly writing in here that could trigger someone into doing self-destructive things. If you are not in a good place mentally and this is an issue for you, please don't read it right now. It'll still be here later. I'm not trying to heal myself by triggering others or giving other people ideas for self-harm shit. It's a horrible, painful addiction and I will be quite terribly upset if I learn that my words have caused someone else any hurt.**

"Baby, when I call for you, I want you to come

And lay it out for everyone

Exactly how it was before any of this happened

And why I can't leave it behind"

-- Conor Oberst, "A New Arrangement"

I moved recently. It was probably 3 weeks ago that I began discussing my current situation and I guess about 2 weeks ago that I actually moved in. There were 5 days in there where I was not here, but up in Fargo with my family paying my respects to Grandma Quick's life and seeing her burial in tiny and all-but-barren Starkweather, North Dakota. Other than those 5 days away, I have been fully immersed in learning the ropes around this house, unpacking and rediscovering treasures from my storage unit, and adjusting to life in the countryside.

It just now occurred to me that it's been a lot longer than the 10 months of storage that I've not seen a few of my tangible memories. In the years prior to leaving Jason, now a little over 10 months ago (holy crap!), I didn't delve into many of these items. I left books on shelves and music in cases for many years without acknowledgement. Some of these things were untouched for so long because I was trying to let go, stop dwelling on painful subjects, and heal. I also left many items unexplored while I was falling in and out of love with my husband, which took probably 3 years. Half of me didn't want to focus on anything but my relationship with him and half of me wasn't allowed to retain memorabilia from my shrapnel-filled past without extreme measures taken to induce guilt, fan my self-hatred, and block any possible fond memories of Life Before Jason.

I no longer have most of my photos from any previous romantic relationships (except for a few copies my parents still had -- like formals from high school. He hated those photos.), I got rid of several CDs and tapes of and from ex-entanglements that I now crave (the music, not the entanglements), and I no longer have any paintings, drawings or sculptures made of me or for me by any male that I've ever kissed. That's sad to me. I've kissed some talented men and probably the only common thread amongst them is how their creativity moved me in some manner. Those tugboats of emotion are now gone. Sad!

I managed to escape my marriage before my journals were censored by a big fat marker or fire pit. Such heretical acts were on the docket to take place any minute for almost a year. I put up with a TON of shit as a result of "procrastinating" on this request, but it was worth every insult and mind-fuck and argument and sneer and threat that came at my stubborn resistance to erase all proof that I had a life prior to meeting the man I married. It was worth it, but I'll never put up with THAT shit again.

Gyah -- that really sucked.

The quote from Conor at the beginning of this post is from the song "A New Arrangement" on "Every Day and Every Night" by Bright Eyes. It recalls nights spent alone in my Powderhorn Park apartment when I lived in Minneapolis and driving to and from my job at the Heart Association, the last full-time job that I held, over my lunch hours when I needed to hurt out loud. I only went home over lunch if I wanted to cut my forearms or play with my unlit fire swings in my living room. Jeff Buckley was great for doing both, but mostly dancing with my swings. I learned that a few minutes of getting my heart to speed up with oscillating arms increased the blood flow and somehow made my purging of pain in the form of blood just that much more effective. Conor's music was always good for urging on the anguish, pushing me past a point of resistance until I felt real. Alive. Involved in someone else's pain instead of the crushing solitude of my own.

Hearing this particular music again ----- I'm looking forward to a summer filled with writing. Maybe not on this blog so much, but for my memoir. To finish the healing process and give legitimacy and create proof beyond my scars that I have been to Hell and I made it out. Turns out it shares the same physical space as Heaven, as well as Mediocrity, and our experiences within this life are entirely determined by how we see the world both inside and outside of ourselves. I used to hear those four lines:

"Baby, when I call for you, I want you to come

And lay it out for everyone

Exactly how it was before any of this happened

And why I can't leave it behind"

and in my mind I was singing about "how it was before any of this happened" meaning how life was before my mental illness hijacked my brain and "why I can't leave it behind" because I was trapped, completely engulfed in hot blistered soul sores.

Tonight I heard these four line and in my mind, "any of this" was now my current living situation -- the serendipitous events and souls who have changed my world for the better -- and I now can't leave "it" (my years of living hell) behind because I meant it when I vowed to do what I could to help anyone else who suffers like I have, and I think that if I can somehow explain what it was like and what I did to find my happiness - I think it could possibly help someone. It's worth writing for that possibility alone. If anything, it'll help ME, so there's my one person. :)

So yeah. Looking forward to delving back in, from a new perspective. I hope that down the road I'm able to share the full story with all of you.

<3

~Q~

The overwhelming power of music

Here are the lyrics to the song I've been listening to for the past...3 hours now? It'll be longer by the time I actually post this.

Drugs or Me
by Jimmy Eat World

Stay with me
You're the one that I need
You make the hardest things
Seem easy
Keep my heart
Somewhere drugs don't go
Where the sunshine slows
Always keep me close

If only you could see
The stranger next to me
You promise, you promise, that you're done
But I can't tell you from the drugs

Don't let go
We'll dig a great big hole
Down an endless hole
We'll both go
You're so blind
You can't save me this time
Hope comes from inside
And I feel so low tonight

If only you could see
The stranger next to me
You promise, you promise, that you're done
But I can't tell you from the drugs

I wish that you could see
This face in front of me
You're sorry, you swear it, you're done
But I can't tell you from the drugs

(Take me)
I need your hands
(So far)
To pull me up
Take the wheel
(Take me)
Out from me
(So far)
Out from me

If only you could see
(I need your hands)
The stranger next to me
(To pull me up)
You promise, you promise, that you're done
(Take the wheel out from me)
But I can't tell you from the drugs
(Take the wheel out from me)

I wish that you could see
(I need your hands)
This face in front of me
(To pull me up)
You're sorry, you swear it, you're done
(Take the wheel out from me)
But I can't tell you from the drugs

Keep my heart
Somewhere drugs don't go
Where the sunshine slows
Always keep me close


Click here for a link to the song on YouTube


The band Styrofoam also made a remix of this song, and I've been going back and forth between the versions. Roughly 2 hours into my obsessive listening, while mindlessly gathering my daffodils on FarmVille, I started crying. Hard.

Jason was probably the first person to point out to me how delayed my reactions are, as a general rule. You were right, JJ. I was so relieved to be safe and away from the hell we were living in for so long, it took me over 2 months to miss you.

Fuck.

Yes, I swore. That will happen occasionally, although not nearly as much as in years past. Deal with it.

I've been hearing from so many people that I'm doing so great, they can't believe how great I'm doing, etc. People who aren't in the middle of something equally as painful as divorce and have nothing to compare to this shitstorm, seem happily surprised that I'm moving forward and getting my life back on track. I've regained my spark and passion for life, and they're all so excited. Those who ARE going through something similar, seem surprised, yes, but almost shocked, or maybe even a bit resentful that I can take something this huge in stride so easily.

Have no fear, people - I'm just a bit slow. I'm not sure if I've always been this way or if it's a defense mechanism I've learned after being burned as many times as there are stars in the Universe. This is what scares me about myself. How can I trick myself so thoroughly, that I'm not even aware that I have these stupid walls up and they're keeping me from feeling the pain all at once? Even though I am aware that I've built walls in the past, once again, I'm totally blindsided by the fact that they're still there. It has to be a self-defense tactic, right? If it all rushed in at once, I may just flip that switch permanently and never return to any semblance of sanity. Or I might just kill myself and be done with it.

No worries - I'm not at all suicidal right now. Not even thinking along those lines. I DO have these walls built, specially designed to only let the agony within the world in in manageable chunks.

I guess the reason that this song got to me so deeply is because "I can't tell you from the drugs". When I met Jason, he wasn't on drugs. Neither was I. By the end, I couldn't see his soul any more. I don't remember the last time the real Jason came out with me. He could probably say the same thing about me. Those lines between the drugs and my genuine self were awfully blurred. I don't remember the date I last used anything other than alcohol, which I don't actually have an issue with. I have zero problems stopping the drinks once they start, and I'm perfectly comfortable not drinking around those who are. The drugs though? I don't stand a chance against them. This theory has been thoroughly tested by me, and I finally figured it out. Better late than never I guess. I should've perhaps known right away, because the reason I loved drugs so much is because they were stronger than my mind, and my mind is exhausting. It NEVER SHUTS UP. Anyway, I've been clean for probably about 3 months now. It's a good start, and I have zero worries that I'll go back into that life. I don't want to even tempt it anymore, because I never ever come out unscathed. So - never offer me drugs. Especially not pot, because it was my all-time favorite, and it's the only thing I really miss. Should you offer me my drug of choice, we shall cease to be friends immediately, because that's just cruel. Fair warning.

Within probably the first week of dating, Jason & I dumped all our "red flags" out on the table, ready for the other to bolt. Neither of us did. And we both have some pretty big red flags. I guess I fell in love with J because he's the first human being that I ever showed all the ugly layers of myself to, and when I'd let him in on another secret that I found to be completely unacceptable, he only seemed to hold me tighter, like he only loved me more because I'm not perfect. He accepted me. I never thought that was possible.

Maybe it isn't.

Maybe it wasn't real love after all. God, that hurts.

How different would my life be right now if I had never tried drugs? If I hadn't tried to self-medicate for so many years? If someone would've figured out what was chemically wrong with my brain years earlier? If Jason & I had kept that initial promise to each other that we wouldn't go there together? I would be different, no doubt. I don't know if that would be a good or a bad thing. Really, it doesn't matter - that's part of my past and there's no point in worrying about it now.

I know I'm not the only person who feels completely and utterly unloveable, which is sad. It is actually better for me now than it ever has been in the past, though. At least now I get moments, minutes even, where I'm at peace and I know that isn't true, because I do love myself. I'm counting on this process to get easier over time and with practice because my first 30 years almost killed me - many, many, many times over. What really makes my heart ache right now is knowing that each person has to figure out their own truths, and no matter how much I suffer, no matter how well I'm able to tell others what I've learned (if I can even DO that well), they still have to figure it out firsthand, or it won't be their knowledge.

That's partly why I left Jason. My best girl, Ro, was absolutely right when she told me that probably the most loving thing I ever did for him was to let him hit rock bottom and wake up. Learn whatever life is trying to teach him, instead of keeping him comfortably miserable, hovering near the bottom but never actually slamming into it. I wasn't able to save anyone else, even the man that I loved. God dammit I tried. I tried so hard. I tried so hard, I almost lost myself completely.

Fuck. And I have no wise words or clever conclusions tonight. It just hurts right now. But, in the immortal words of John J. Nelson, my Gran'pa, "This too shall pass". I'm banking on it.

Love,

~Q~