I Have A Dream, A Fantasy

*disclaimer* This post touches on the serious subject of suicide...if you or anyone you know is struggling with depression, please seek help. Tomorrow is another day! It may be tough and hard but keep going. Please keep going! You belong here. 

The hardest part about being a creative person is never feeling up to par with your peers. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing...given that it keeps one humble and in my case, keeps me keepin’ on. 

I dare say most of us know this feeling and we know it well! Some do a damn good job of hiding those insecurities-for instance-my husband-an artist whom I admire immensely-seems to never doubt his work or purpose in life. It’s only when I open up about my own fears that he shows me his vulnerable side, a camaraderie to ensure I’m not alone. 

The man can draw anything beautifully! Meanwhile, I can barely put two stick figures together. His handwriting is impeccable...meanwhile mine looks like chicken scratch. He could pick up an instrument and learn by ear how to play it....meanwhile...the only thing I can play is the pounding sound of our kitchen pots and pans...because they are loud and I like making noise. I have always wanted to be a triangle player in a band though....is that weird? 

Still, my husband encourages me like no other. He’s the one that bought me my camera. He’s the one that tells me to constantly write. He’s the one that loves my chicken scratch letters, my beating drums sounds, and my picture of stick figures dancing in the moonlight. His confidence in me trumping my insecurities. 

It took me a minute to figure out why this hellish feeling is rearing its ugly head, resting its feet in my home...this feeling comes around every year...just the same, never changing its stance...but as time progresses I lose track as to why....until it hits me.

But in order to rid my soul of these demons...I have to revisit them. Close to my birthday...a resurgence, a resurrection, the past visiting the present-checking in and soon enough checking back out....because I will never let myself feel that low again. 

I’ve battled this internal war for as long as I can remember and truth...almost nine years ago that battle almost won. 

I apologize in advance...although this story has a happy ending...it’s still a sad tale to tell. However, it does need to be told....because some of you have been or are where I once was...and because...this one moment was ONE of those life defining significant chapters. The catalyst for strength and moving forward. 

On May 4th, 2011, a few weeks shy of my 31st birthday, I tried to commit suicide. 

Poorly, I might add. 

The kitchen knives were dull, my roof was too low to hang from, and a gun was nowhere to be found. I searched late into that evening to find something, anything to remove myself from a world I felt had deserted me. I had planned my exit strategy for six months. 

Depression taking over, guiding me deeper into my hole of despair. Yet, when it came time....I couldn’t even manage to do this correctly. Some failures make the best victories. Some mistakes make the best retakes. 

Instead...I lost my damn mind in a night I dub, “The time I fought God and my house and lost.” 

The climb back up harder than the fall to where I fell. I was in a deep, dark pit. Life at the time was tough. I mean, fucking straight up challenging. 

The economy was shot-my job folded after five years of steady employment with people I considered family. We were all told on a Saturday that come that Tuesday there would be no job to be had. We were all devastated. People, like I said who became family all in the same boat-questioning where do we go next? 

It’s very rare that you find a job that you actually love going to, no matter how difficult it can be some days. It’s not that common to find a place of employment where every single person makes your work environment a beautiful one. Not only was this my bread and butter but what would I do without seeing these people I was heavily bonded to everyday? 

Not to mention....opportunities were null and void. There were no jobs out there. The economic recession made sure of that. My city, much like the rest of America, was tragically hit. 

A couple of months later, my ex and I split. An action that was long overdue. We moved in together instead of breaking up and looking back, breaking up was exactly what we should have done. It might have saved a friendship or at least left us with some shred mutual respect for one another. 

To this day, he’s the one ex, that I don’t speak to. A fun fact about me, I’m friends with all my exes. I’m even friends with their significant others. I’m a firm believer, if you can’t be amicable with someone you once shared a close relationship with then there are some residual leftover emotions you haven’t sorted out. I’m not up my exes asses but I pride myself on calling all of them my buddies. I’m also not one of those women who will back stab another female for the attention of an ex or a guy. I can get plenty of attention on my own without holding blades-a-plenty. I’ve been on the opposite side of that sword and the stab wound is awful...so I’ll never put someone through that wretched pain. That’s not me! 

However, with this ex...a friendship an acknowledgment, a nod to the woman that came after will never happen. We ended on a toxic note, because we stayed too long. 

Everything I wanted for us, he is now with his current wife and I’m happy with that. At least there’s some take away. 

funny story...we both moved cross-country to the same damn state. Luckily, we haven’t run into each other in the last six years I have lived here. At least, I’m pretty sure we haven’t. There was that one time where I thought I did. It almost involved a car accident where glares turned into ghost sightings on both sides. 

I swore after him...I would never date another LEO sign in my life. 

The universe in all its hilarity, jokes on you, gotcha antics...I ate my famous last words. Swallowed them whole without much of a chew. My husband is a Leo. My husband’s birthday is the day after my ex’s. It didn’t surprise me. Leo’s are attracted to me. They always have been and always will be. I am the flame and they be the moth and I can’t escape this sign, even if I tried. Literally, I am surrounded by them.

Before my husband and I met, I took 3 1/2 years off from seriously dating anyone. I needed a break. I needed to concentrate on my independence and seeking employment and healing from a broken heart. I had flings and flirted and went on dates...I wasn’t a nun by any means but I never let hedonistic tendencies take over. I was determined to be single. 

I just couldn’t muster up the courage to fall in love or give someone else another piece of me that I didn’t have. 

That first year of being solo was brutal. My whole dating life consisted of one relationship after the next so being alone was unfamiliar and intimidating. Men always did this to me. They claimed me as soon as they met me and I willingly let them, disregarding every red flag in the process...because in my trained woman’s brain-being single meant something was wrong with me. Being single meant I was a whore! Being single meant I was a bitch or crazy or an insane, wild cat lady. 

I had never been alone-just me...a separate entity from a male counterpart. Once I was allowed to have a boyfriend....I always had a boyfriend. Sure, I might have been single for a few months here and there but it wasn’t long before another guy swooped in to be the the next constant companion. 

I had never allowed myself to grow or discover who I was and what I wanted in a partner or from myself. Hear me now because it’s the best advice I can give anyone. Taking time to be single is necessary for human growth. We are forced to believe that we should always be coupled up....and sometimes we don’t know ourselves enough to know what that really takes. That’s okay. That’s what being single is all about. It’s a time to have fun. Learn independence and what your identity really stands for. 

Before my 3 1/2 years of solitary status. I accepted the cheater, the broke musician, the lost cause, the lost puppy, the guy that needed to be fixed. The man that appeared to have it all together but soon became a distraught mess. 

I’m loyal. I’m committed. I tried...and most of my relationships ended without cataclysmic drama. Thankfully. 

2010...I had become a horrible sad country song or an emotional best hit. 

I was lost, confused, and grief stricken. I was over it. I was fighting to keep my sanity as well as my lights on. It was too much all at once. 

To top it off, I was fighting a gnarly case of bed bugs. Bed bugs I caught after leaving my home from an almost violent argument with the ex. I had little money to splurge for a hotel and it was too late to call any of my friends nor did I didn’t want to. They were at their wit’s end with this tragic love story and I didn’t blame them...I was too. 

I stayed in a hotel where prostitutes bring their Johns. Exhausted and mentally drained...I cried myself to sleep, ignoring the smell I now know was an indication of creepy crawlers having a hay day on my skin. 

The ex and I ended shortly there after. He disappeared for a week. The same week he describes in his wedding profile as the week he met his current wife. A week he never returned home...a week I faced hard truths on my own. When he finally showed up...I had moved my stuff to our guest room. He became enraged at the thought of me being done. He called me a whore...I slapped his face....he moved out and I was left alone. Trying to make semblance of it all. 

A few months later the bed bugs appeared but that’s what they do. In all honesty, these fuckers are like Covid-19! It’s too late once you figure out they are there. 

This went on for six months...and to add insult to injury, all the itchy bites were taking over. I had patterns. Designs that made me feel and look like a fucking leper. It should be known...these bastards are in every place we go. If a spot is unaware, they run rampant...they take the fuck over...and they don’t bother most people. They just terrorize those that are allergic...and I am clearly allergic. Severely  allergic. Then again, I’m allergic to most dumb shit the rest of the world can glide right over. DO NOT...I REPEAT DO NOT...GOOGLE THESE THINGS IF YOU FEEL YOU HAVE A CASE OF THEM. YOU WON’T SLEEP! 

I made that mistake...because I was broke and couldn’t afford any other option. For half of a year...I probably slept about two hours a night. I was a zombie. I giant ball of destruction! I was losing my thick curly hair in handfuls, I was losing weight like I had an eating disorder. I was turning myself inside out and upside down. 

The only way to get rid of bed bugs is by baking the shit out of them...or getting rid of everything you own. The heating process is lengthy, extensive and extremely expensive. I couldn’t set my house on fire nor afford to spend thousands of dollars to get rid of these dickheads so I opted for the latter. I threw away everything!!! Clothes, blankets, furniture, EVERYTHING! I was left with the bare minimum of clothes, furniture, and necessities. I was unemployed, regardless of constantly searching and no guy to lean on. I felt helpless in every sense of the word. It’s amazing I hadn’t lost my mind prior to May 4th...I mean, I was bending so far back, I’m surprised I finally snapped when I did. 

*side note. Bed bugs usually take up to 30 days to show. The bites will go in a pattern. A clear and decisive, detailed pattern. The bites will itch like fucking crazy. There will be a distinct smell of spice-some say coriander-I say a mix between tobacco and a heavy cumin/turmeric/curry smell...think middle eastern spice shop where old men sit outside smoking on pipes while drinking Turkish tea and eating Turkish delights. If you get to this point, they have infested the area. They have now hibernated in your electric sockets, mattress linings. On furniture...in clothes, in suitcases, in shoes and socks and in your underwear drawer. They are everywhere. I have seen cases where it only took a few days to recognize the bites which those folks are lucky considering but that just means they aren’t as allergic and these things just bit them then bailed. Still....immediately wash everything you own and if it’s replaceable and/or not that important...get rid of it. You also can’t go anywhere because if you do...you risk transporting these assholes every place you visit...the only thing though in this failed planned...by the time you realize you have them, you’ve already been everywhere and back. Restaurants, friends homes, the store, etc. Like I said, Covid but in bug form. Like...even talking ‘bout this is making my skin crawl, my insides shuddering at this shitty phase in life. 

An absolute chaotic circus of epic proportion. One damn thing thrown in my face after the other. For one year straight. 30 to 31! Never giving me a second to catch my balance. Relentless in the bullshit brigade. 

The tight rope I was walking on...had a master vigorously poking me with a stick...hoping the distraction would ultimately lead to a fall into the pit below...a pit filled with snakes ready to pounce and take the very life out of me.

That night...the night I tried to off myself...I cried...I cried hard...the flood gates opened and I was drowning in the sea of my own salty tears. 

The only option, I thought, was an out. 

I was at my lowest of lows. I saw someone I no longer knew. My sparkle had died. My joy...abandoned me. Cynicism and self-doubt claiming their territory. I ended up in my wash room. Razor in hand. The one thing left that might work. Trembling and gutted...with nothing left...I brought the razor to my wrist....but instead of scarring my skin...I fell to the floor and cried for hours more, screaming, “Someone help me please! Someone...help...please!” 

I finally fell asleep on a bed that I bought a couple of months before with the little money I had. That night I dreamt of my grandmother. She didn’t say much...she just nodded. She just let me know I would be alright. I dreamt of my nephew whom I’m extremely close to...telling me, AUNTIE YOU CAN’T LEAVE! 

I woke up to my best friend thinking she would find me dead...yelling “Call your fucking mother.” 

I woke up to the awareness...utter clarity...that I did die that night but it wasn’t an end but instead a means to transformation. Old self, shadow self losing against all odds. The universe had other plans. It wasn’t my time. 

That same day, after multiple sad conversations about how important I was to the people around me...I decided to peel myself off the couch and revive my drained being with some sun. I walked past my bookshelf...one of the few that I held onto after the bugs took over my home and a flyer for a preschool fell to the ground. At first, I didn’t pay attention to it. I didn’t have children...there was no need to glance at it but then it fell again. With purpose and intent. Landing at my feet. I was hit with a sudden feeling that my grandmother was around me, nudging me to notice this flyer. I understood what she was trying to say. 

After a year of unemployment and steadily looking for work, my grandmother was telling me to go in and ask if they were hiring. I had nothing to lose, even if the flyer wasn’t advertising for work. 

I gave myself the rest of the day to clear my head, hang with girlfriends and laugh and smile for once in a long damn time. I just survived the night from hell. I deserved the break. I deserved a fucking medal. 

The next day, I was up early. Extremely early. I wanted to catch the right people. I wanted a job. I wanted hours and a steady paycheck. I wanted to feel some security and good about myself again. 

Within days of scrutinizing back to back interviews, I was hired. They saw something in me, that I didn’t. How could I...I was at ground zero...rebuilding all that had been destroyed. Starting over. 

I taught kids how to write and read. I taught kids how to ride bikes and come out of their shells. I became a lead teacher and worked with curriculum books and headed class activities yet in all that, these kids taught me more than I ever taught them. 

They were my therapy. 

They taught me how to live again. How to look at the world in a way that wasn’t so jaded or so serious. To see a ball for a ball. Throw it, kick it, toss it, move on.

They taught me how to laugh when I fell, get a bandaid and get right back on that merry-go-round that would inevitably toss me off once again regardless. 

They showed me life wasn’t so complicated....and it didn’t need to be. It was about coloring horses blue and using your imagination to invent the things you wanted. One day, you could be a magician...the next a wizard. You could wear a cape or a tutu or both if you wanted to. Life was meant to be lived without expectation. 

Out of all the career hats I’ve worn, being a teacher and working with kids by far was one of the most rewarding and inspirational. 

So what if I was single. That jerk tugging at my pigtails will get a mud pie to the face during recess. 

So what if bugs took residence in my home. Climbing trees and rolling around with the earth, is part of the gig. 

So what if my bedroom was different than before, a mat at nap time along side a favorite blanket is just as fancy as those 1000 count sheets. 

These kids weren’t thinking about anything else except the here and now. Simplifying, what I in age, had made more difficult. 

You never really know what life truly means until you’re forced to remove yourself from it. 

These kids taught me that and I removed my old self accordingly. I began to feel more like like who I used to be...my true self...the one that smiled and saw light regardless of a space being pitch black. I was rekindling a fire that I had assumed had long been snuffed out. 

Being creative doesn’t always mean being perfect. It’s the learning process that leads to great work. I will always doubt my potential but never enough to catapult me back to where I once was. Almost nine years ago a choice that could have led to my non existence was steered into another direction. 

Looking back, I apologize to myself for almost giving up on it. I hug that woman and tell her, you made it. 

We all feel this pain from time to time...thinking the best solution is a disappearing act. It’s not though. We’re here for a reason. Checking out, isn’t the way to go. I promise you...this too shall pass. 

A year ago around this same time I stumbled upon a video on You Tube. It was a video of a young woman who had given up. In the comments section another woman told her own story about fighting the urge to end her own life. I felt compelled to tell her my story. Where I was and where I am now. Something I said woke her up. Something I said, planted courage inside of her...a few weeks later she replied telling me my words helped her find the strength she needed to keep going. “If I could do it, she could as well.” 

You are never alone. I’m here to attest to this. Life is hard but we need to look at it with childlike eyes. Tomorrow will be full of mishaps and missteps but if you keep moving, you’ll find your stride. Leaving is easy...staying put means you are a warrior. Be proud of your fight! Those battle scars are a map to something better. 

One day...I hope my blog, my photography, my creative lust for life will lead to great things. Opportunity. Open doors...manifestation. The dream life. And just like you, I have to be an active participant. In order to see these things, I have to remain here. I have to go through the muck to get to solid ground. 

While writing this a song popped into my earbuds, the lyrics seemed to correlate so I had to share. The timing uncanny. 

This is for you all...remember you are beautiful and powerful. Go easy on yourself and continue to build your glorious fortress...regardless of how many times you have to set that shit on fire and start over. Rise like a Phoenix from the ashes. You are stronger than you think. 

Love and peace to you. Oh, and happy Taurus Season. 

“I have a dream, a song to sing

To help me cope with anything

If you see the wonder of a fairy tale

You can take the future even if you fail

I believe in angels

Something good in everything I see

I believe in angels

When I know the time is right for me

I'll cross the stream, I have a dream.”

I Have Dream, Abba