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[fifthsonata]

I miss my life.

Did I ever really have a life?

I guess I did.

I miss my books. I miss my music. I miss running in the evenings, watching the sun set as I listened to lectures on my iPod. I miss spending Friday nights in the library, buried in books, hiding in the corner, and then making my way to my office in the music building when the library closed. I miss the road trips to Minnesota or Sioux Falls when I got called to sub for their orchestras and I miss the drinks afterward with my fellow GAs. I miss the nights I woke up early and decided to walk around the neighborhood, at 4 or 5 in the morning, to see the sun rise. I even miss those stupid rambling moments on mine when I was lecturing to dead-eyed freshman in my rock & roll class, trying to use my youth to relate to them but instead laughing at my own nerdiness.

I won't lie and say I was fully happy then. There were so many nights I stayed up, fighting and fighting to alleviate the monster in my head until I finally caved, slicing cross-hatch patterns in my flesh wanting to relieve some of this inexplicable heartache. Enjoying the temporary pain, the distracting sight of bright red blood as it pooled into my carpet (and the panic of how the hell I'll get it out, and there goes my deposit). The feeling that I deserved this, being so ungrateful for the life I had that I couldn't enjoy it for what it was.

And now, here I sit, with nothing in front of me anymore. Sure, I'm teaching again, but it's not an official music job. I work two jobs to help make ends meet and even that's not cutting it anymore. I'm completely and utterly alone this time. There are no others here and it's not for lack of trying.

Nothing has gotten better. Time hasn't made it easier. My latest task I struggle with is laundry and bathing. A year ago it was dishes. This is so fucking ridiculous. Hang your goddamn clothes, girl. Febreze don't cut it for doing laundry, girl.

I've become nothing. Just nothing. Spending 20 minutes in the shower every morning crying in a fat fucking pasty white lump is just horribly pathetic. Cutting myself at work is horribly pathetic.

My life isn't hard. Everything is average. The events are average. My success is average. Even my depression is textbook. There's nothing there that someone else couldn't contribute and I could easily just disappear. I question whether or not it would matter if I were still here or not, and deep, in my objective side, I can't find a reason. I've always had the ability to separate and be objective to any situation - call it that skill teachers acquire. I don't see a reason. A future. There's nothing.

Nothing.

That's the most horrifying thing of all.

[MichaelHung]

As a fellow sufferer of depression, fellow mental pod listener, fellow forum mate, and fellow human being...I really want to know if you are getting any professional help or counseling. I am sorry that you feel so much pain to the point of hurting yourself. I hope you can get some support and allow yourself the chance for you to feel te joy and happiness you used to feel. You are never alone because you have all of us here on the forum. As Paul says, I'm sending you a huge hug buddy.

[weary]

I feel you. It hurts really bad. I'm sorry.

I recognize some of the things that you say - they echo thoughts that bounce around in my head, too. Especially this one:

There's nothing there that someone else couldn't contribute and I could easily just disappear.

Speaking as one educator to another,though, even if someone else could step I an d teach your students, they would not teach them like you teach them. You are unique. You are special. And maybe the ways that you are unique and special don't always feel good to you or make your life easy these days, but you cannot be so easily replaced. There is at least one student - today or a former student - upon whom you have made an impact that someone else wouldn't have. Maybe you can think if one, maybe you can't. Even if you can, there are probably ten you don't know about for every one that you do.

And you put music out in the world, for God's sake. Music is love, peace, happiness, and a million other things, and not everyone had the talent to perform it. To write it. To share it with others.

I'm sorry. This was not intended to be a cheer up and feel better! Look how much you have to appreciate! post. I just cringe and squirm when I see the absolutes in your view of your life... The repeated use if the word nothing. If you can let in one good thing, even if it doesn't make you feel better, it can open a crack and let the sun start shining in. It can give you something to build on. You're posting on here, looking for help and support. That's something too. I would miss you if you just disappeared, and I don't even know you. People who do know you would certainly miss you!

Hugs.

[fifthsonata]

I don't want to go back to therapy anymore. I went for a few sessions. It hurts but let that nice woman's time go to someone who deserves it and wants to make something of themselves.

I am going to go to the psych appointment, though.


Because drugs. Yay drugs.

[fifthsonata]

words always the same. thoughts the same. efforts get me nowhere. time is what I've given. nothing in return. cliche, depressed, miserable piece of human i've become. accepting what i am makes my head just shut down but this is the worst pain of all...resolution. acceptance.


waiting.

[weary]

What you wrote echoes thoughts that have been echoing around in my head. My wife and I were just talking about the fact that both of us are seized by those thoughts, and oddly we found a moment of connection over that. Depression sucks, but it is almost a universal experience, or at least one that many, many of us are familiar with. I hear how much pain you're in right now. Keep expressing it if you can. I accept you... I hope that you can continue on the path of acceptance for yourself.

waiting.

For what?

[DeCreate]

You aren't worthless. Nobody is. I hope you know that somewhere deep inside.
But someone along the way has treated you as worthless, and you somehow absorbed the message. And society in general treats people like commodities. Wages have been going down, prices have been going up, and the fat cats at the top get fatter. Educators, especially, are not paid for their worth. From one music nerd and educator and traveler-to-Sioux-Falls to another... I hear you. But it's not your fault. It's not you. You just have to deal with the problems that someone else foisted on you. I hope you can find the self worth somewhere inside to look for a way to do that. I wish it were easier. I wish society were more human-centered and loving. I don't know what else to say. I miss my life too. Hugs...

[fifthsonata]

I got a referral by my counselor. I'm not starting over somewhere new.

I don't know what to do anymore. Deafening realization that I don't see an end to such misery and not sure I can endure much more.

[weary]

Hugs. I'm not going to tell you that it's all going to be ok. I'm just going to tell you that I understand feeling hopeless and alone. You and others in this board help me feel less helpless and alone sometimes. You sound like a nice, patient, caring, talented, compassionate person. A really, really good person. Someone that I am glad to call a friend, even in this remote, impersonal, anonymous electronic way. Your posts resonate with me. Lots of people on here are sending love your way.

I hope that you can continue to hack your way through whatever your personal hell is until you emerge into the daylight in he other side. I'm glad you have a referral to see someone, because a guide can be helpful on such a trek. I think you're a strong person. I believe in you, if it matters.

Every time I see you post I know it is a signal that you haven't given up on yourself. That can help me not give up on myself either. Thank you for that.

[fifthsonata]

At 7am, my alarm clock assaults me with a sound that grates my ears. My heart lurches for a moment, but the overwhelming anger at that sound calling me to wake when it feels as if I just fell asleep......I pull the alarm clock out of the wall.
10 minutes later, my cell starts beeping.

I know my tricks.

9am and I'm standing at the fencepost, staring up a a horse. His snout is over the fence, investigating my lunch box, and I'm petting his mane. I give him my carrots and to my delight, he whinnies with glee. I pet him for a moment longer, forgetting I need to be in that building. The black horse stares at me a moment longer, and then a child runs up to me

"Jenniferjenniferjennifer I want to pet the horsecanipleasepetthehorseletmepettheponypleaseplease."

It's one of the students - a small boy with light olive skin and a head full of dark brown curls, bouncing in place as he tugs my jacket. We call him the "escape artist" because he's known to run off - so much so that mom buys him neon green shoes so she can easily spot him. She, of course, apologizes profusely to me instead of coralling her boy, begging me to take him because she's running late. She runs to her Lexus before I have the chance to say anything.

The horse isn't perturbed. I hoist this small boy up in my arms, and we share a moment of calm, petting him.

1:30pm and I'm flying off the handle. It's music class and I'm with a handful of students, playing in the basement. On those days I drink a pot of coffee beforehand just so I can keep up. I'm buzzing about and they flit and dart behind me, their voices booming like rowdy teenagers but in the high-pitched tones of a young child. Their large eyes watch me as we collaborate, unravelling yarn to mimic the shape of the melodic contour for the song. Finally, in a moment of calm, we settle in on the rug, sitting in a circle, singing an Irish lullaby.

One small boy nestles his face against my soft scarf as he sweetly sings in my ear. I laugh because he smells like spaghetti.


4:00pm; the sun is perched atop the hill and specks of red are pressing over the horizon. The children are playing, shrieking with joy and two little girls - twins - have wandered up to me. Their faces are bright as they beg me to watch them balance on the low beam near the porch. I watch as they precariously perch themselves 4 inches above ground on a strip of faded oak, falling, laughing, doing it again and again. One little boy decides to climb in my lap and begs for a story, his eyes the size of copper saucers. I make something up about bridge trolls, he giggles profusely, and then lays his tiny, strikingly round, head upon my chest, finally coming to rest on my long ponytail. He giggles as the hair tickles him, but he doesn't move. Unsure of what to do at first, finally I wrap my arms around him.

He looks up at me and smiles.


As the day drags on the hours seem to disappear, to melt into one another as my brain sets on autopilot. It's 5, then 7, and my legs are propelling me forward as I'm running down the sidewalk. My clothes are layered - not to stay warm, but to hide the sheer mass as I feel it thunder with each step. I'm sure the world hears each thunderous stride and I'm paranoid the passers-by are staring at my large thighs. 7:45pm and my legs have come to a walk as an audiobook is playing in my ear. How long did I actually run? How in the hell did I end up on this side of town?! I've been losing time a lot more lately and I'm not sure why.

I realize I'm 6 miles from my apartment. I don't normally go this way. Tired, I start speedwalking.


The children - that sheer, uncomplicated love is so admirable and I come to understand it's one thing that keeps me tethered to the ground. They keep time stable. I wish I could give them more. I wish I could find an adult like that - I love with every piece of me. I can't control it. I'm not an open book, but for some odd reason, my heart is. I know it overwhelms people and I know it is the reason so many are put off by my presence. In my quest to keep that piece of myself - that childlike curiosity and love of the world - instead it has made me seem like too much. Am I really too much, or is it this piece of me? I'll never be able to find out.

10pm and I've beached on the floor. My legs are humming.



3am, I wake up. I'm still on the floor. When did I fall asleep? My back aches from the ground. To my dismay, I'm wide fucking awake and wishing this didn't happen as often as it does. That strange combination of unidentifiable ache mixed with an all-too-identifiable sadness. It's always here, when it's just me, and there isn't a way for me to ignore it. I try to go back to sleep, but no luck. My presence, my self, it seems unnecessary, unneeded - like I'm an alien here in this town. I don't belong here. Do I belong somewhere else? What happens if I don't belong there, either?

Desperate to ignore the crowding in my head, I put on my running shoes. I wish with such alarming desire that I can one day become as small as I feel.