Still in the throes of it

I went to open Mic night at Coffee Cottage on Sunday. It's a ritual now, something to commemorate the survival of another month. The next one is on my birthday. It looks like I am going to survive thirty. I can't count the number of times I almost decided to end it this year.

But at open Mic night, people sing songs about my life. The Roberta Flack song "Killing me softly" would be the best description of what happens every time. I go. Someone sings about suicide, about losing their love to another, about drugs, about murder, and I am crippled, crying. Usually the tears slip out quietly, only noticed by those who know me. This week was different.

She sang about losing her man to another lady, and my heart returned to Texas, to my darkest days. All the feelings came back, and I went outside and crouched on the sidewalk as the tears and wails that have been stuck inside my throat came out. The last time I lost it like that was at my sister's wedding in August. I just came out of the ensuing depression from that experience a month ago.

This time, I went inside, took a pill to lower my blood pressure and make me feel safe, and let Dan comfort me until I came back down. I am learning how to cope. I asked my mom if I would always be this way. She said maybe. There's no real way to tell.

Sometimes I wish people could see my illness. I wouldn't be quite so self conscious about it. Maybe they'd ask questions and let me talk or be ok with the silence, the comfort I draw just from being in their presence. I hope to one day be well, to not fall apart in public places.

Even if that day doesn't come, I am thankful for those who love me. I have had a lot of amazing friends and family to lean on which is so much more than a lot of people get. They value me and tell me I am a treasure. That love has propelled me through this year and will guide me safely home.

I pray your life is filled with the love of those who see greatness in your weakness and care for you in your joy and pain.