Home | Posts RSS | Comments RSS | Login

Blackbird singin' in the dead of night

05 October 2014
All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free.  

I am seized with envy.  What must it feel like to know your path in life?  What is it like to not be hunted by Melancholy?  I am haunted by Churchill's black dog.  I am a blackbird with a broken wing.

I feel lost.

I don't know what I want.  I don't know what I need.  Chemicals swirl through my body; briefly lifting me before letting me fall on a sea of glass.  Shredding cutting bleeding losing.  I am losing.

I am lost.

Since I was a child, I have been stalked by Mental Illness.  Depression and anxiety have pursued me for as long as I can remember.

I can stretch out my wings, but I am chained to the Monster.  My wings lift me and I want to soar - and I am yanked back down.  Trapped.

Lately I have wondered ... everything.  Who am I, really?  Who might I be if these chains were broken?  I don't know myself because I can't know myself.  I am part Kestrel; I am part Monster.  How can I be all Kestrel?

What am I supposed to do with my life?  I cannot find my path.  I don't know where to go.  I don't know what to be.  I don't know why I am going to school; spending money and time to get a little piece of paper that I may not ever use.  (Because how can I possibly hold down a job when I can barely lift my head?)

I started taking antidepressants after Sparrow was born.  They seemed to help me.  But they took away my gift.  I used to be a writer.  I have always wanted to be a writer.  But I can't write since I started a steady chain of Lexapro, Prozac, Wellbutrin, Effexor, Viibryd, Fetzima.

And I have always said: I would rather be a person who can function than a person who can write.

Hawk knew what he wanted his career to be when he was 12 years old.  And he's attained it.  He's incredible at it.  And I hate him (just a very tiny bit) for it.  I'm nearly 28 and I can't think of anything I want to do except for write.

But I am blocked all the time.

I... am just lost.  It seems like my sunken eyes should've learned to see.  But the view from here is as blurry as ever.  And I will stumble along, as I always do...wishing I could trust my wings to carry me to where I can be free.

This post brought to you by my horribly slow and painful transition to a new SSRI, by the existential crisis I seem to have at least once a month, and by the unsolved mystery of my health... weirdness.  I went to the ER 5 times last month.  

I just don't know what to do.  

5 comments to Blackbird singin' in the dead of night:

Clifford Kindred said...

wont like this..but..get out get out get out get out...your generalized anxiety is so tied in with perpetual guilt from something, I promise..no..its from everything...I was raised in a pure mormon home, dad bishop, mom everything she could be or do or be away from home. MS in psychology from BYU, and the insanity of needing to be..shall we say..98% perfect,,and god...does your god unconditionally love you,,yes ,,,on the surface, but lets face it under neath you have always fallen short of his glory so you cant be happy......guess what...a life time of this is programed into your head...there is not enough ssr in world to get that crap out of your head and the depression that goes with it form the guilt you are...getting out sucks and is hard because the church has no room for quitters..they are always right and your always wrong...well guess what .. you feel wrong all the time...good luck..can email me if your like..don't flame me...hate that...but if you have questions...and i'm not even talking about anti mormon crap...I'm just talking about what the church does the the emotion an spiritual illness in you and I ..but there is hope..get out

Anonymous said...

^^^ What a moron.

Hope your meds balance out soon. I totally feel this way whenever I have to try something new. It's awful! Good luck!

Clifford Kindred said...

its so nice to not be on meds. To not get up every morning and know that something you missed yesterday, that some church program you didnt do, That you didn't go visit some person that doesn't want you coming over, that you did pray long enough, that you did feel Gods love, that to be his Child and to feel his love, (no depression) can and does work. Utah has the highest use of SSR per capita in the United States......Just we are also the highest percent of mormons

K La said...

Well, i completely disagree with Mr. Clifford Kindred. All my happiness has come from the gospel. And I will be ever thankful.

Krisling, you are an amazing, wonderful person. you may not know who you are, but God does. I may not know who you are, but I feel like I have a pretty darn good idea, and let me tell you, you are Awesome. All of you.

You can still write when you are happy pills. They may make it harder, but I've read some stuff you've written after and you still have your gift, it just might come as a trickle instead of a gush. But what about editing? you are the world's best editor!! Would you want a career in that? That would totally be awesome while you did it, but it would also put you down that path of being a writer in the future.

I miss you. I miss talking with you. Come visit?

Kestrel said...

Sorry Clifford. I haven't been a member of the Church for my entire life, but the parts I have been part of the Church have been infinitely better than my life without the Church. However, I do believe that everyone has their own path to walk in life, and I totally respect that yours is different from mine, and I will never try to convert you or whatever.

My life would maybe be a little easier if I wasn't LDS, but I would not be happier. All the medication in the world wouldn't be able to compensate for my depression if I didn't know my Savior (who does love me unconditionally, underneath and otherwise. Which is what the Church has taught me over and over again, even when I try to put conditions on His love.)

But you know Clifford, your comments honestly apply to my family life before I moved out of my parents' home. I had to move out and leave the church before I could realize that it wasn't the church that had screwed me up but my parents' interpretation of it. Parents. Sheesh.