"...the sea's only gifts are harsh blows and, occasionally, the chance to feel strong. Now, I don't know much about the sea, but I do know that that's the way it is here. And I also know how important it is in life not necessarily to be strong but to feel strong, to measure yourself at least once, to find yourself at least once in the most ancient of human conditions, facing blind, deaf stone alone, with nothing to help you but your own hands and your own head..."
— Bear Meat by Primo Levi

I was scared to be honest about my depression because I didn't want to feel weak and vulnerable. But people keep calling me strong. Brave. Admirable.
When I felt strong, I was actually just weak and hiding my depression.
Now that I am honest and feel weak, I appear strong to others.
I'm learning so much.

When I stopped singing along to songs, I knew something was wrong. I am one of those annoying people who knows the words to every song and will gladly sing along to them. I listen to a song once and then I make it my job to sing along every time I hear it for the rest of my life. I've been known to exclaim how much I hate a song and then sing along to it. If I know the words I'm gonna sing 'em and no I do not have a good voice by good voice standards but I don't mind my singing. It's fun for me. But recently, I haven't been singing along to songs. I've barely been listening to music at all and when I do put on a song I'm barely hearing it. I'm too far away.

Depression is something that has always been there. I could always sense it, like a phantom limb, it was a part of me whether it could be seen or not. But usually it would go away, or I would have a good laugh and feel a little better. Better enough to carry on with my life. But it's bigger than me now. Rather than just carrying it around, it has seeped into every pore and I carry it in every cell of my body. It is my blood. It consumes my thoughts. In every inhalation, in every heartbeat, every step- I feel it. I am depression. It has swallowed me whole.

So now, as predicted, with this depression comes a loss of interest in things I would normally enjoy. As I mentioned in a previous post I can no longer read books and a recent venture into reading a magazine article proved futile as well. I can't take much in but I am certainly letting out a lot. I've told basically everyone how I am feeling and I know that talking about it will help me get through it and writing this blog has been a big help as well. It is one of the few things I have the motivation to start and actually finish. School and my internship are two things that fall into the can't finish category. I'm going to be taking a leave from school to focus on getting better and will probably return next Fall. 

I mean, this is kind of a big deal. The whole leaving school thing, I mean. Feeling depressed is big too but I can't believe how much it is affecting my life this time around. When I first started thinking about leaving school I was pissed. This is not something I had planned out, obviously, and I felt like I was ruining everything. Why couldn't I just suck it up and tough out these next 7 months so I can graduate on time? But every time I think about that I remember how hard it's been to even look at a syllabus, never mind completing an entire assignment. The normal things in life have become burdens and the only option is to get away. Take time for me so that one day I can do these things and not feel like a ton of bricks are laying down on me.

I've always been a very headstrong person. I only do things that make me happy and that I will enjoy and if I don't like something, or someone or somewhere I will not hesitate to remove myself, or not get involved at all. I just simply don't want to wast my time. I know what I like and what I don't like and I won't settle for anything less. That is why this decision to leave is so hard. I love my program, and the people who I have met. I love working with children and families and learning how to help them. I don't want to be the one left behind as the rest of my classmates excel and graduate in May and all travel together to Phoenix in June to take the certification exam. 

But I can't worry about that too much because for as long as depression is the only song in my head, the only song I know the words to, I have to leave some things behind. Make room for what is to come. To start over.

But it still sucks.

This is for me

I went to the Boston Bookfest today with my college roommate. It was a rainy Saturday and usually I would spend the day lazing about the house but I decided to brave the rain and venture out.


There were various seminars going on that I wanted to see so I sent her a text and met at the BPL. We had missed the seminar I wanted to see which was on writing memoirs so we got a seat at a seminar on thrillers and killers instead. We got there an hour early and spent the time catching up on each others lives.

I love listening to writers talk about their process. I love just being around writers. To know that some of us make it. Andre Dubus III author of 'House of Sand and Fog' said that only 200 authors in the US actually make a living out of writing. I don't know where he got this number from but I believed him. The other writers present were Joseph Finder, Stephen Carter and Jessica Stern. 

They said that the advice to "write what you know" is terrible. I was relieved to hear this. When do you know something? I've been waiting to know something so I can start writing my book. I think I would have waited forever. They said it's all about writing what you are interested in and learning more about it. They said a great novel leaves space for the reader to fill in their own ideas. You fill in the blanks. Everything doesn't need to be spelled out for you. They said that they don't write for anyone but themselves. If someone likes it, great, but it's an afterthought. A pleasant surprise. 

I felt so good after hearing them say all this. I've dreamed of becoming a writer since around age 5 and now it is something that tugs at me everyday, like a child pulling on her fathers pant leg. When will I be a writer? Can it start now? I wanna start now! Pleaaasseee. I guess anyone can be a writer, but I want to be an author. A novelist. I mostly just want to drop everything I am doing now and live the life I've imagined for myself. Become immersed in my writing. Write my little heart out. 

I don't know whats stopping me... 

Procrastinating

Procrastination has completely consumed me. I half-assed an essay this morning and since then I have been gearing up to do the rest of my work but so far no luck. I have to write a grant proposal and I find it dull. I don't like having to research and find facts and numbers to plug into specific spaces. I am proposing a grant to fund a child life program at Gesundheit Institute. It was created by Patch Adams and I think what he does relates to child life and I think that maybe someday he should give me a job at his yet to be built hospital. It's a fake proposal. Just something to help us learn how to write one so maybe one day I can submit a real one. Wouldn't mind if it was for Gesundheit. 

I work to normalize a child's hospital experience and help them understand procedures. But a big part of my job is play. It is how a child interprets their world and I get a front row seat. It's fascinating work but it's also sad because I only get to see these children because they are sick. My job wouldn't exist without them. You should look up child life, and if you know a child is going to a hospital you should ask if they have a child life specialist on staff. 

So this is me procrastinating some more. It's funny how when there is something important to do you often do things of less importance first. To get them out of the way, rather than just tackling the big project and worrying about those little things later. Such is life. So far I managed to clean the house, checked facebook and twitter a million times, unpacked, found some interesting articles to show to someone who might like them and now I am updating my blog which I just updated yesterday and which I have nothing really interesting to share since then. I guess I could talk about child life some more. Since my homework is for my child life grad program maybe this will motivate me.

I found child life when I was volunteering in a resource room at a certain big name hospital in Boston. I was in the main resource room where all the adult patients came to use the computers and pick up informational packets about different diseases. I had heard about the pediatric resource room and I knew I would be happy up there and that I would have a lot more fun. Then one day my supervisor told me that the person who runs the room would be going on vacation so I would have to take over! Hooray! But when I told my friends about this they all looked sad and said, "So you are going to be hanging out with kids who have cancer? Won't that be depressing?" Well...I hadn't really thought about it. I just thought kids=fun. I kind of forgot about the sick part.

It was all sunshine and giggles. They are kids! They still want to play regardless of how much hair was on their head or what their cells were doing. I couldn't believe that it was someone's actual job to play with these kids. You get to meet these wonderful little people and you can help make their visit to the hospital a little happier. The woman who ran the room went to school to get this job, and the school she went to was right next door to my college! I applied and got in and now I am at my second internship and feel so lucky to be here.


There was a particular patient at that big name hospital who cemented the idea that this is what I want to do for the rest of my life. She was a little girl and her blond hair was just starting to grow back. We were playing with a dollhouse together and she started telling me how the boys at her school made fun of her for having no hair, but then she beat them up. She told me how they stopped making fun of her that and how happy she is now. A happy kid with cancer. We had a nice little chat and got along well and then she had to go see the doctor and get her chemo. The next day when I came in I found out that she had made something for me. It was a little blue felt bunny wearing a little floral dress. I was just so taken aback. Here is this little girl who is experiencing something so much bigger than she is and she made a blue bunny for me. It just really touched me. I felt like I should have done more for her; made her something to take home, and I told this to one of my professors and she smiled at me and said, "You did give her something. You sat and listened to her stories, played games with her and treated her like just another kid. She didn't walk away empty handed." I forgot about the sick part of her.


Some of the strongest people I have met have been cancer patients. For my first internship in grad school I worked at a not so well-known hospital in Boston. I was in the hematology/oncology clinic so once again I was working with beautifully bald children. Child Life Specialists can work in many different hospital settings from inpatient units (where I currently intern), radiology, ER, and so on. I just like working with oncology patients. But the thing is...it does get sad. You will meet a million strong little children but the fact is that not all of them will beat it. Four children died during my 5 months at this hospital and I learned that a patient I was close to died soon after I left. I wasn't sure if I wanted to know what happened to the kids I worked with after I ended my internship. Part of me just wanted to think of them as living forever. Getting married, having kids and dying when they are very old.


They were all wonderful kids. They are still wonderful kids.


That's the thing with facts and numbers and the specific spaces they fill. They are all so final. They can't go anywhere else once you plug them in. No room for imagination or stories. Alive or dead. Nothing else.

But as you know, I don't always live in reality. So while I know the facts, I also know that I can think however I want. In reality I have a grant due tomorrow and it is a big part of my grade and I haven't even started it yet. But in my mind I know it can wait. I know I will get it done and that I will probably get it done 5 minutes before it is due but I don't want to go there yet- to that stressed part of my mind. I will stay here, in oblivion and be happy about it.


 I like this...


"Those who are dead, are not dead, their just living in my head. And since I fell for that spell, I've been living there as well."

  

New Orleans

The morning I left for New Orleans I was very hungover or maybe still drunk. I had shared a bottle of wine with a friend and when my roommate came home we all had another big glass. I went to bed at 2am and had to wake up at 3am so there were bad decisions coming in from all sides. Luckily I had packed already because when my roommate knocked on my door it was 3:30am and the cab had arrived. I had time to throw on some clothes and rush out the door. The flight down to New Orleans was...woozy. It was sunny and 70 when we arrived and I found myself in the midst of a wonderful weekend. I want to tell you all about it but I'm afraid it will turn into a bunch of "and then's..." and that could get boring. I'll try to keep it interesting. My problem is that I like to focus on the details and I really want to make you feel like you were there, or at least have an idea of what my weekend was like but that's hard to achieve when there is so much to tell.

Let me tell you what kind of vacationer I am. A lazy one. I'm happy enough just to be in a different place so making plans and actually venturing around aren't too important to me but that kind of defeats the purpose of traveling. Thankfully my roommate is the exact opposite so she made the plans and I either followed or made small adjustments and off we went. My main goal was to eat and get some beads on Bourbon Street and I accomplished both. I ate crawfish pies, poboys, jambalaya and gumbo and managed to get 4 strings of beads. The first was simply placed around my head by a drunk man and the following three were thrown from a balcony Mardi Gras style minus me having to show my boobs. I just asked for them. The biggest culture shock came from seeing people drinking all over the city. Just walking down the sidewalk with a beer in hand. Walking into a bar and asking for a to-go cup. It's a different world down there.

And then I saw the Mississippi River. It was massive, brown and littered with barges.
And then I went to the wedding and there was a gospel choir and it was beautiful.
And then I went to the reception and it was candlelit and they played 'Sweet Caroline' and I missed Boston, but only for a second.
And then I danced in a random restaurant with my roommate at 3 in the morning and no one seemed to mind.
And then I went to the Carousel Bar at the Hotel Monteleone where so many famous writers have visited and I felt close to them.
And then I was on the plane back to Boston looking out at the sky with it's setting sun, thinking I have never seen anything so beautiful as a sky filled with colors. A sky full of rainbows and nothing else.

I always have a hard time leaving a vacation. I spent the most money in our last hour in New Orleans because I was hoarding. Trying to take as much of New Orleans back with me. It was all just so beautiful and the family I met who used to be strangers made me feel like family. They were some of the nicest and loveliest people I have ever met.

As my roommate and I left Logan airport and boarded the T I told her how I was always envious of those people with their luggage because it meant that they had just come back from somewhere fun. Somewhere different. She laughed at me and told me that I say such funny things. That we think so differently. But as I sat there with my luggage and memories of NOLA all I felt was sad and tired. I knew it couldn't last forever but it kind of hurts to carry around these memories and know that they are in the past now. I'm being melodramatic. I'm lucky to have been able to have gone and I can certainly return some day. I can't wait.

Now that I am back in Boston I can feel the water start to inch up around me again. That's the thing with water- it rises. Water can give and it can take away. I saw some evidence of it's power while I was in New Orleans by the water marks still seen on some of the buildings. The framed photographs slightly distorted from water damage. Walking down the street and knowing that it was once engulfed. But the water eventually lowers.

We all face disasters. Our own personal hurricanes. And we will never forgot them- even when rainbows fill the sky.

"This is an adventure"

I've started writing quotes down that I like. It's a skinny moleskin journal that I bought to write down all the books I have read but I keep forgetting to update it. There was a time where I was convinced that someday I would forget everything so I started writing down all the movies and books I had seen. It's kind of silly when I think about it. That when I am old I will be more concerned with remembering what movies I have seen rather than trying to remember what my family looks like. I don't own any photo albums. All my pictures are on my computer but I will probably forget how to use that too. I am almost anal enough to write down notes about everything but I'm lazy enough to not actually do it. It would be interesting though to actually start a book about my life. It would be like a very comprehensive autobiography but only for myself. I could include instructions, lists and memorable events for myself. I don't even think Alzheimer's runs in my family but I find myself becoming more and more forgetful everyday and I'm only 23. I would hate to forget everything.

I've been keeping up with writing quotes down though because they are interesting and they inspire me. There is nothing better than a well-crafted sentence that expresses everything you can't actually say. Or choose not to. I've been just browsing the internet and writing down interesting things or just jotting down what I read in a book. I usually do this before bed at night. I feel calm after. Then I carry around this notebook during my day so I can pull it out when I need a boost or feel alone. I can find something to relate to and feel a little better. I found this great quote by Haruki Murakami that pretty much sums me up at the moment. My best friend read a book by him and told me I should read him but I forgot about it until I came across that quote. I'm going to pick up one of his books once I get through the four that I am currently reading. I've never been someone to read multiple books at a time but there are just so many that I am interested in right now that I couldn't help it. It's not really as enjoyable though. I'm currently reading Sellevision, The Book Thief, Frankenstein and...I can't even remember the fourth one. I think I will stick to just reading Frankenstein since Halloween is coming up. I wouldn't read Frankenstein at any other time of year because it goes best with a Fall day and a Pumpkin Spice latte from Starbucks.

But this is a classic example of my poor planning. Not only do I have a ton of homework to do but I also have four books to read. Reading is supposed to be fun but I have loaded on four of them so now it feels like a chore. It's an easy fix though. Just read one. I wish I could do that with my schoolwork. I am going to New Orleans on Friday and would really prefer to have only one assignment to complete before then rather than...four. I guess four is the magic number this month. As it turns out, four is also my favorite number, but not for any particular reason. I just assigned it as my favorite number one day. I believe in assigning luck or special meaning to ordinary objects. I think it might have been my jersey number when I play basketball in middle school. I must have done really well and thought it was the number that made me good, rather than my own talent. I dropped basketball but kept the number.

I'm very excited to go to New Orleans this week. I've never been before and have actually never gone that far west yet. I've gone all the way down to Florida but have never left the east coast. I'm going to a wedding with my roommate but I have no idea who the people are who are getting married. I'm just coming along for the ride. For the adventure. I'm excited for the layovers too because they are in Kentucky on the way down and Houston on the way back. Isn't that silly? I have never been to these places though and one of my goals in life is to visit all 50 states so this will be working towards that goal. It will feel like an accomplishment even if it just consists of 45 minutes of sitting in an airport terminal. I can still observe and listen and feel what it's like to be in a different part of America for a little while. We are flying out of Boston at 5:30am on Friday and while my roommate is dreading it I am excited to be in the air when the sun is rising.

I've been living out of my suitcase for a while now since I have been traveling so often between Boston and CT this past month or so. I'm currently in CT at my parents house and kind of dreading my ride back on the train tonight. I am taking quite a late train because I never want to leave home and push it off as much as I can because Boston means stress lately. That's where school, my internship and my apartment are. That is where I am an adult with responsibilities and a rent to pay and obligations to fulfill. It's where I have four books sitting by my bed that I can't find the time to read because my mind is too full lately to even focus on the words. My brain won't stop thinking about everything else I need to do. That's why all I can handle are quotes lately. I can only take in life one sentence at a time and as much as I love these quotes and what they have to say, I can't help but want to be able to take in a whole goddamn book and not have to reread entire pages because I realize that I have been looking at the words but not really taking any of them in. I'm looking but not seeing. It's frustrating but I know it won't be like this forever. Nothing ever stays the same.

Oh and here's the Murakami quote:

"...I have this strange feeling that I'm not myself anymore. It's hard to put into words, but I guess it's like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling."

Yes. That. Perfect.

Tornado Warning

I already have a blog on here but I got bored with it. It was focused on one theme so I felt a little smothered by it, like i had to conform to my own ideas. It was about luck and I haven't been feeling very lucky lately anyway and thinking about all my past luck only made me depressed. Or more depressed. So this blog will be like more of a mixed bag or whatever I feel like writing about. I would like to apologize in advance for the moody feel of this blog. All the usual stressors of life have gotten to me and I am drowning a bit. There are things that make me happy though. It's just harder to feel the effects these days.

There was a tornado warning in my town today. My brother sent me a text message from the next room to warn me. My dad came bounding up from the basement to exclaim how great it was that he was cleaning out the basement because we might have to seek refuge down there if the tornado comes. My sister and I just sat on the couch all excited that something would be happening in this tired little town of ours. I love crazy weather. Seeing the sky turn purple and green and hearing the rain coming down in panicked droves. Like it was just dying to escape from the clouds.

But I knew a tornado wouldn't come. I don't know if it's that adolescent idea of invincibility still hanging around or what because I wasn't worried at all. I knew a tornado wouldn't come. I knew something interesting wouldn't happen. My sister and I just sat waiting for it to at least rain. Do something. The sky eventually turned lavender and it rained for a while with some smatterings of lightning and thunder but nothing really cool or interesting happened. It's basically the story of my life.

I like to hype things up. Of course it's always silently. I don't like to let people know that I am freaking out so I keep it in my mind and carry it all in my shoulder muscles which results in a lot of grimacing. I think I keep these thoughts to myself because sometimes I'm not sure if they are logical or if I am blowing things out of proportion and I wouldn't want people to think I am being dramatic. I usually live my life with one foot in reality and the other in my own fantasy world. I never grew out of daydreaming and fantasizing so sometimes I need to ask myself if things are really as they appear. I'm like Russell Crowe playing John Nash in 'A Beautiful Mind' when after it has been made clear that he is schizophrenic he asks his pupil if the man standing before him to tell him that he has been nominated for a Nobel Prize is really there. He wants to know if someone else is seeing what he sees.

It usually turns out that I am just making a big deal out of something so I usually feel good about keeping these thoughts to myself. And I'm usually worrying about money, or homework or my general melancholy and it doesn't take a genius to figure out that if I got a job, stopped watching TV and started exercising and smiling more then I probably wouldn't have these crazy thoughts anymore. Then I could write about all of the amazing decisions I am making and what a great success my life is and that would be boring. It's all about the struggle right? I would want to know that someone feels as crappy and weird as me.

I think that's why people like tornado warnings. It makes us feel important to plan and watch the news and say with all seriousness, "we need to go down to the basement." It's why after a national disaster we can't help but watch the news for hours and soak in every drop of information. It helps us relate to others when we see that everyone else is sad, or angry or scared. It breaks up the monotony of our everyday lives. It kind of thrills us. More than anything it just gives us something to talk about.