Mouse

The Promise of Spring

Taken by S. Clark

Daffodils unfurl-

dewy with new beginnings,

the promise of spring.

Impossible

I asked my husband and daughter to each give me a word that I could use as a starting point for a poem.  My husband's word was "impossible."  This word inspired the poem below.  My daughter chose two words, "lemon grass."  The poem for those words is still pending!

Carry On

I came of age along with grunge music.

It is not like I was a huge fan of any group in particular.

I didn't have posters of bands or go to concerts.

I was really too nerdy, too much of a "good girl" to go full on grunge, despite my flannel shirts and Converse shoes.  The preppy look ruled at my private, Christian school.

Anything other than hymns, even contemporary Christian music, was suspect.  Secular music, like most of secular life, was viewed as a potential doorway for immorality.

Still, the music contributed to the backdrop of my life.

Grunge music became more important in 1994 when I started my freshman year of college. That year I experienced the worst depressive episode of my life.  

If I wasn't in class, I was studying, crying or sleeping.  I didn't leave my room except for classes and food.  I had one friend that I spent time with, but in all honesty, she was just a depressed as I was.

My college was in range of Alice, KLLC 97.3, a grunge radio station.  I could listen on days when the weather was just right.

I was listening to Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Green Day, Bush, etc., etc.,

The music helped me survive.  It helped me carry on.

Grunge music gave me access to the dark feelings that I didn't have words for.

I have words for those feelings now but grunge music continues to provide comfort during times of distress.

I've been listening to grunge music almost exclusively since last November.  It feels like a dark time.

Wednesday night, Chris Cornell, the lead singer of Soundgarden and Audioslave killed himself after a concert in Detroit. He was 52 years old.  

While I am usually saddened when I hear of a celebrity passing away, I don't typically grieve.  I don't have much of an attachment to people I've never met.

But, this death has impacted me.

Partly because it seems like it was a suicide*, which is always a particularly senseless loss. The mental illnesses that lead someone to suicide are treatable.  Suicide can be prevented if the person suffering gets treatment.

Too many times they do not.

Then we lose someone, like Chris Cornell.

But it also impacted me deeply because Chris, as part of the grunge movement, helped me understand the darkness that is depression and gave me access to those feeings.

He likely lived with that same darkness.

In the end, that caused him to end his life, while the the rest of us are left to carry on.

It also reminds me that those of us who suffer from depression or other mental illnesses can never be complacent.  

My depression can go into remission but it will never be cured.  

My husband's depression can go into remission but he will also never be cured.  

We carry darkness in us that must always be managed.  

It is not a pleasant reminder.

It is a reminder I would rather not get.  

But remember it I must.  

Because I must carry on. 

I'm sorry that Chris couldn't.   


Click here to see the final concert

*His wife believes his suicide may have been the result of taking prescription medication improperly, which compromised his decision-making.

Wine Glasses & Perfectionists

I was at my sister-in-law's house the other day ago.

It is always fun to go over there because she usually feeds us and any day I don't have to be responsible for dinner is a good day.

Also, my niece and nephew are teenagers who seem to really enjoy entertaining my daughter, so I actually get to engage in adult conversation without interruption!

As a side note, I heard the phrase, "Are you part of this conversation?" frequently as a child.  So, whatever hassle my parents had to endure in raising a nosy little girl has now come full circle.

As I was standing in my sister-in-law's kitchen eating food she provided, having uninterrupted adult conversations, I noticed a set of wine glasses.

They were very pretty, with sparkly glass. The stems had copper wire wound around them with little stones threaded on the copper.

They caught my eye and I said "Hey, Stace, I like your wine glasses."

She looked at me and laughed.

Then I said, "Wait! Did I make those? I think I made those!"

After a bit more laughter she said "Yes you made those for me."

Huh.

After a moment's reflection I noted, "I like my stuff a lot more when I don't know it is mine."

Because perfectionism.

I am a perfectionist in recovery.

Perfectionists are people who have high expectations of themselves (and often others,too) and strive for flawlessness.

I know I don't need to say this but perfectionism is a recipe for disaster.

Perfection is not an option in our topsy-turvy world.  Good enough is a more appropriate mantra.

Perfectionism renders all outcome as lacking, all effort as below standards.

It is a fast way to depression and anxiety, actually.

While I have made vast improvements in having realistic expectations of myself and focusing on good enough, my inner perfectionist does sneak in and start issuing orders.

Seeing the wine glasses for what they really are, rather than through my perfectionist eyes, serves as a good reminder that perfectionism is a distorted way of looking at the world, where nothing is good enough.

When, in reality, everything is good enough.

Little Ray of Sunshine

A semi-autobiographical, somewhat exaggerated cartoon based on my husband and I, plus occasionally our daughter and animals.  My husband creates the story line and I draw them.  Our daughter will also help with future story lines and drawing.  This will be an occasional series as inspiration happens to strike!

Heartstrings

Husband & I
Watercolor painting
by S. Clark, February 2016

Intertwined heart strings-

We learn this life together

for love unending.