Most of it, I have been coping well with most of it. Eighty percent of the last few shitty years. But lawdy lawd, the 20% was and is horrid. Hence, I allow myself one day to feel whatever I am feeling. To think the worse of thoughts and let them move through me. 2019 was the last and only time I reached out for help. And Noel, one of my best friends, physically came to rescue me from myself.
If ever I blog during that one day I usually delete the blog post. I wrote In My Lover’s Bed, I Sing The Blues, Zero Gravity, Help Me Out, A Better Man…during days like this. Horrible days when I long for an end to everything.
Most of the music written in the last two years have been very gentle and bright even. I connect the dots and see the bigger picture sure. See beyond the dark bits and stare right at the light and bask in it. It all makes a crazy kind of sense. Still. I need to feel the rage and sing it out of my skin. To roar and howl with loss. And stop being so rational with my heart and ghosts who live with me there. I need to shove them out. Plan their murders and dig their graves.
My one day is over. I have things to do and plan. Soon, I will be in Cape Town again. A performance is on the cards. Two of them. Full band. Live streamed. On my own terms. There. That’s a focus for now. My sadness won’t wait…but like everything it now knows when it can knock at my door and I will listen to it. And my daughter thinks I know nothing of depression.
Only by being in such a dark hole could I reach for light, for music….and then other people.