sanity log #3 (James Blake lyrics ensue)

My standard of life has reconfigured itself again.

In a stomach-tossing turn of events, happiness and self-love have become the norm.

It's the difference between writing on a frost white board with a black marker and writing on a midnight black board with milky chalk.

It's the reality that's changed.

Oh God, I can't believe the delusion I've been swimming in for the past few years.

Whenever I felt happy, it was temporary. And I knew it was temporary when I experienced it, knowing that depression was the center of my gravity. Perversely, depression became magnetic to me, eventually even cozy, a dark, warm, numb center of reality I could disappear in.

If I crashed down from happiness, it wasn't with the knowledge that I had to climb out of it. I convinced myself that I deserved it, tracing the patterns and mistakes of my past and somehow ruling myself to a life sentence of self-harm.

Not in the conventionally conceived way of self-harm. My scars were dark half moons under my eyes, self-imposed sleep deprivation, food deprivation, exercise deprivation. I stopped myself from excelling in school, from letting go of my inhibitions in social situations, from getting close to people. I didn't believe myself to be worth it. There was no tangible target for losing my friends in the past year, so I attacked myself. Like the Stars song, or like a strange inverse St. Ignatius, when there's nothing left to burn, you set yourself on fire.

Even amid the darkness of my psyche, I was prevented from falling completely from grace, because there were always present pinpricks of light. My family. My friends. Faculty at my college who supported me. Unseen friends from far away who supported me.

And there were always books. I have an entire adopted family that I owe so much of my wisdom and perspective to. Maya Angelou is my grandmother, John Steinbeck my grandfather, Alice Hoffman my mother, and Chuck Palahniuk my father.

Without them, and so many others, I'm not sure if I could have seen anything at all.

And I know for certain that if it wasn't for Chuck Palahniuk, I would have never had the strength to forgive myself enough to seek help. Helping yourself isn't glamorous. It isn't an insane road trip led by queen supreme Brandy Alexander, it isn't Plumbago and pastel colored pills, an elaborate path to self-destruction. It's making the very unglamorous call to Psychological Services and confirming that you're not a fictional character, and that your emotions aren't fictional or frivolous. They're real. You're real. And you deserve to give yourself the chance to heal.

I'm not perfect, and I'm not sure that I'll ever be. I never want to be. We're all damaged. But I am strong. I am resilient. And I finally have control.

Now close your eyes. Breathe. And feel it all.

James Blake, Retrograde

You’re on your own, in a world you’ve grown

Few more years to go,
Don’t let the hurdle fall
So be the girl you loved,
Be the girl you loved

I’ll wait, so show me why you’re strong
Ignore everybody else,
We’re alone now
I’ll wait, so show me why you’re strong
Ignore everybody else,
We’re alone now

Suddenly I’m hit
Is this darkness of the dawn
And your friends are gone
When you friends won’t come
So show me where you fit
So show me where you fit

I’ll wait, so show me why you’re strong
Ignore everybody else,
We’re alone now
We’re alone now
We’re alone now

I’ll wait
We’re alone now
We’re alone now

I’ll wait
We’re alone now
We’re alone now
We’re alone now
We’re alone now

Suddenly I’m hit
Is this darkness of the dawn
And your friends are gone
When you friends won’t come
So show me where you fit
So show me where you fit