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I hadn't had a good day today. I've been slipping in and out of these little depressive episodes that when I can and I'm able, I will stay in bed the whole day. It doesn't make for a super awesome life right now but it is what it is. I don't tell many people when I'm not doing OK anymore because I feel I'm a bother. I'm missing some friends and I felt a little bit alone tonight but I wanted to just tell a quick tale before I went to bed.

I have no food in my house. It was almost 6 before I finally and got the energy to go and grab something. Not anything healthy of course, because when you're depressed and trying to stay away from things that will really be unhealthy for you like drugs and alcohol, you tend to gravitate towards awful fried gross wonderful depravity. So of course, I'm waiting in the fast food drive to get my burger, not feeling good and already irritated because I had a feeling that some impoliteness was headed my way.  I was preparing myself to basically be a total bitch because I was grumpy and then something shifted in side me, and I remembered that I'm a human being and so is the person on the other side of this window.

The beautiful, tired, slightly round woman at the window handed me my strawberry shake and kind of just sighed. She was waiting for the rest of my food and it took a couple of minutes then I heard her say, "What a beauuuuuutiful evening" in a manner implying it was not beautiful at all but exhausting instead. I caught her eye and laughed. She looks at me and she said "Oh I'm sorry, your food will just be a couple more minutes." And I said "Really it's no trouble, take your time. Rough night?" She smiled slightly and said, "No, just ready to go home. Two more hours." She handed me my food and I said "May it go by quickly for you! You have a good night, OK?"  She also smiled, said good night and I was on my way.

It's not much on the outside, but compassion is so overlooked most of the time when it can be easily found. No fancy blog post today, just a message to go out and spread a little care on this Sunday.

No, it's not Sunday here yet, but I'm always on London time.

Good night.

You and I

"And I find it kind of funny

I find it kind of sad

The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had

I find it hard to tell you,

I find it hard to take

When people run in circles it's a very, very

Mad world, mad world."

When you look upon the face of this woman, what is it you see? 

Do you see joy? Someone enraptured by melody and bass? Carefree singing? Do you see someone beautiful? Do you find yourself wondering about almost too perfect makeup. skin. and teeth? Do you see love? Happiness? Some familiarity in sensation? A kindred spirit? Passion?

...Freedom?

Shatter your illusion of what you think no one else could possibly feel or understand... It isn't real. It's an outside facing mirror so others may see a glimpse of themselves. Me and you, you and I, in a perfect symbiotic frolic. Happy on the outside, a storm on the inside: that's what we hide, our honesty, our pain, our sometimes everlasting darkness.

We disappear so that we may intertwine. 

Don't disappear. Everything you have ever feared, someone has too. Every doubt you've ever had, someone shares those same doubts. Many people tell me I'm an inspiration, I'm brave, I'm honest. They say they admire my story, my struggle. The thing they don't know is I'm not winning at life, but I am living it. I struggle every day. EVERY. DAY. I'm not brave. I only no longer have anything to hide.

I want you to know we're the same.

This is the face of someone who is insecure: about herself, her relationships, the future, the past, the present. This is the face of someone who couldn't get out of bed on Sunday due to feeling depressed.This the face of someone who cried herself to sleep two nights ago, after crying in the shower for 45 minutes. This the face of someone who feels some level of depression, anxiety and addiction every day. This the face of someone who doubts herself and her abilities every moment. This is the face of someone who is alone, yet fears the very thing of being alone and feels very alone, especially in a room crowded with people. This is the face of someone who is going it alone; no partner, no supplemental income, no support, and too proud to ask for help. This is the face of someone who has new frown lines in her face now when she's paying bills. This is the face of someone who worries that people are watching her move through cities, head down and shy, but she's working on raising her eyes to meet the world's curious gaze. This is the face of someone who has cut herself, ripped off toenails, picked at skin until she bleeds. Sometimes she doesn't feel it. This is the face of someone who has come close to drowning, falling out of a car, and tripping into fire because she was drunk and didn't care. This is the face of someone who actually did consider drowning herself, shooting herself, overdosing, ending it all. This is the face of someone who knows what it means to sacrifice yourself, as a partner or friend, and lose yourself in them. Not anymore. This is the face of someone who tries to be present and 'on' and sometimes spectacularly fails. She doesn't always have to be the clown. This is the face of someone who is not one-dimensional. This is the face of someone who feels fat some days, looking in the mirror hurts but she still gets up and sometimes even climbs mountains. This is the face of someone who wants more, thinks she can be more, hopes she's brave enough to try and steadfast enough to hold against what may come should being 'more' become too much. This is the face of someone who lives in her darkness. This is the face of someone who has survived. Like you.

Is it not the same as yours?

Marvel at the way your fresh skin smells. Wonder about the stars. Sip wine if that's your thing, laugh, look at the sparkling city lights. Hear the cars but pay no attention: you are so much more than a small cog in the wheel. You are important. You are indestructible. You are real, and thriving, and you want more. Don't live a mediocre life. Live to live. Live to love. Live to feel anything but the darkness. Read everything. Find joy. Acknowledge and try to not let your demons get the better of you, but if you can't....play with them. If all else fails, smother them with a pillow and don't let go. Get them gone if you can, out. Don't hide, conquer. Expel the internal twilight by accepting it and letting it be, but know it is nowhere close to permanent, because nothing is. There's a clock counting down. 

Don't leave before you have gazed at the stars and said, "You are bright, punctured holes in a vast, dark space...but you are still light."

Darkness may always be there. But this is me. without my makeup, without my armor. No touch up, no face slimming touch up. This is me. And it's also you. 

I'm still listening to the music. And I'm OK.

And so you are, too.

Why Not Me?

Nostalgic, almost pensive this evening: thoughts that aren't necessarily completely connected to each other but ping around the pinball machine of my brain *pingpingpingpingping*. I have no advice, only thoughts....maaaaaaaaybe some poetic wisdom. Things I hope to type before a cat walks across my lap, inevitably preventing me from writing because living in the moment, with mindfulness, requires an immediate but careful response *petpetpetpetcatbuttinface*. Mindfully I am writing from my couch on a Saturday night because my thoughts are too lyrical not to. If that makes me an egotist this evening, so be it. I'm ripping that wall down anyway.

Funny thoughts. Random thoughts. Unexpected ones. Reading from those who write well often stirs my creative soup to a boil, and that's what happened tonight SO YAY, READ READ READ. I'll post this unedited because I want to see what I can do. I want to see how I think. I want to see what you think. I'll try not to care anyway. Some of this is specific to certain people because they are who I am thinking about. I'm thinking about all of you all the time actually, even if I don't mention you by name. There are many people important to me who will never know how much they help me. I hope they know someday.

I want to share. I need to share. I'm dying to(o). (That's a DM lyric, don't think I'm getting all maudlin on you...)

• I hope my friends won't get tired of me discussing my sobriety so often right now. It's important I speak about it but in no way implying I'm somehow better for it. I am no better than anyone else. If someone has never had an addiction problem, if they're in recovery like me, or if they're still using, I am no better. I can only do me. I am as equally important and yet not in this plane of existence we call life, and a short one at that. Live the fuck out of it.

• I hope I stay sober. At 18 days (again). This has been tried and failed so many times in the past year alone. I just want peace. And happiness. NOVEL CONCEPT to desire something everyone wants. Doesn't mean it's not important.

• It'd be nice to win a billion dollars. It'd be even more immensely satisfying to write words down and win at the lottery of life. By enjoying the little moments to the huge successes, am I not doing that already? Scratch that thought. I'm already winning.

• I am so grateful for Anna. I force her to proofread everything before I post it. You're welcome, tonight. Sorry the seats at the hockey game aren't heated. When I win the lottery I'll make that happen. For you.

• I'm so grateful for those of you who read my words. I realize most of the time it's because I yell at you to. You like it when I'm bossy.

• I'm so grateful for all of you.

• There are too many unwashed dishes in my sink, too much cat shit in the litter-box, too much garbage in the bathroom bin. My Dutch Brothers coffee cup is tossed in it. I have profound issues with a toss-away food item being in my bathroom, yet I won't get up to change this. A beautiful girl with green hair named Callendra memorized my drink order of said cup and blushed when I complimented her hair. Her smile made me happy.

• My old cat is going to be 10 this year. She sleeps a lot and I pet her more every day. 

• The other one is behind me, most likely plotting my demise. She succeeds at fooling me every night in winter by climbing under the covers with me and sleeping in the crook of my arms for hours. On the rare nights when I can sleep without fear, I'll briefly wake to find neither of us have moved. She wakes up from her naps sometimes by meowing suddenly, as if rousing herself from a bad dream, and searches for me. If I'm close by, she'll reach out to touch me with her paws. If that isn't love, then I'm doing it wrong.

• I took the picture below today when I was hiking. I believe it to be beautiful. I have never seen snow before on Four Peaks (in the distance) in the almost ten years I've lived here. The desert is so beautiful and deadly. Everything in it is trying to kill you constantly. #AHHHHHHHHNATURE

• I'm learning how to live with my darkness. TGTITW (The Greatest Therapist In The World, as an acronym reminder) says I only have one demon. I thought I had more, but I think she's correct. He came back in full force after I came home from London. I was very unhappy and acted on the whispers in several extremely dangerous (sorry, even that's too private to share but only self-destructive not harmful to others yes I realize that's still awful) ways.  I haven't named stupid asshole demon yet, but my friend Holi did make an excellent suggestion. In her words, "In Arabic, there's a term we use when we listen to the whispers of the devil, encouraging us to doubt our goodness, our deeds and intentions, the good in others...we call it Waswasa - Satanic whisperings." That's one of the most beautiful and terrifying things I've read, and it's perfect to describe my relationship with alcohol. Holi is so beautiful. Actually, all my friends are, inside and out. Y'all need to stop, because you're making me look bad.

• I just moved my ring finger ring on my right hand to my thumb because all this typing is making me swell. I've never felt more alive.

• I find myself suddenly remembering things that happened when I was drinking. Happy, cringe-worthy, embarrassing, dangerous, ludicrous memories. I am the worst version of myself when I abuse prescription drugs and alcohol. I try to remind myself I'm insane enough in the best way possible without those faux walls. I'm remembering how to smile and look at people in the eye.

• I can still write the fuck out of shit. 

• I don't care if anyone is critical and thinks I can't. Let's see you bare your soul and prose publicly. Triple-cat dare you.

• I think about where I grew up a lot lately. I still actually refer to it as home. Marin County, CA. It reminds me a lot of Europe, which is why London felt like arriving at the source. I remember so many things about warmth and smells and feelings, like hiking in the wild Point Reyes Seashore area, with tall beach grass and zero pretentiousness that area is known for and yet I still recognized it existed as a child. We were not wealthy but we were rich with tangible experiences. I hope to make it back soon to photograph it, even though that too is impermanent. 

• I can also photograph the fuck out of shit.

• I can do anything I put my mind to, and what I want is to write and feel and photograph and live and laugh and cry and breathe. It's just going to take a lot of hard work and sleepless nights. I am ready.

• It's awesome to be as crazy as I am. The crazy ones have the good pills, and nope, not sharing. Not abusing them, either. I'm just getting better at living instead of existing in a shell of fear and numbness.

• I suddenly had a memory of walking through a park in the pouring rain with Keri, in London, and my shoes are getting cold and soaked. I hope she knows how happy I was, even though I was feeling a bit shit most of the time, physically. 

• I think about my London girls all the time.

• I will talk about London, soon. It's going to be a long post, and will take time. But the most important take away was, for the first time in my life, I am SO GLAD the experience happened, not sad that it's over. That's some deep personal growth right there.

• My jaw clenches a lot when I'm writing. Or hiking. I need to start doing more mouth exercises. 

This post isn't meant to suggest a jealous or longing implication I'm missing out on anything. I can do this, this thing called life. I can make something of my almost 37 years. I can make me proud of me. I will, by meditation and writing and love. Even if I don't win a billion dollars.

Why NOT Me, question mark. Why the HELL not? 

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?  Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we're liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

~ Marianne Williamson

*Update: I didn't win the Powerball. London has to wait a little longer. Sorry about the warm butt seats, Anna.

*smiley*