Its my one year anniversary of being at WAKT with Your Americana! That's something.
I’m thankful for the support of Alan Goldsmith as well as Seán Nestor and the others at WAKT, my Toledo supporters and those who tune in near and far - Thank YOU! Preparing my show has often been my mooring during a turbulent year; something to focus on while the storm passed and to keep me from fretting too much about what the aftermath might look like. I’ve looked forward to hearing from friends before, during or after the show. Some weeks, I didn't think I could do it with all the chaos around me, but I did, and you were instrumental in that.
Sayonara 2024 - Unvarnished Part II
Looking back, it's like a chapter is finally closing. It has not my favorite one, but maybe an important one for the story plot. Its not always easy to feel this when you're in the thick of it. But this week, I was confronted with a happy realization after a year of upheaval and endless pivoting. Namely: situations that made me want to drive off a cliff and anti-social reactions on my part are scarcely what they were a year ago. I'll say it... I'm less "triggered", more empowered, braver without being abrasive.
A year ago I was having multiple panic attacks a day. Yes, at moments I did think I might die. From my more grounded side, a voice in the back of my head tried to reason with me that if I continued to dismiss those attacks and neglect my well being, I was likely to develop a serious health issue. But my default inner dialogue persisted as the devil on my shoulder, telling me I was the problem. I simply wasn't tough enough. I was failing myself and Dylan. "Mind over matter", right? "Suck it up buttercup, people have it far worse". That inner dialogue perpetuated an endless cycle of anxiety and self-loathing. Until I broke down and checked out - like a machine with an automatic emergency shut down. The warning light was blinking for a long time, so what other outcome could there be?
Deny Pain - Anxiety Grows - Crumble Under Stress - Self Loathing Ensues - Deny Pain
The uncertainty of many things battered me, sometimes hour to hour. The loss of our livelihood weighed on me like a boulder. I think most people can understand that. I felt like I was gripping onto a nylon rope covered in vaseline, drowning with no one close enough to hear me yell for help. But the biggest thing looming over me and that no one but me could fix was the belief that I was a worthless failure and bore the responsibility for everything wrong in Dylan's life and our life together. And why not add how you're letting the entire world down by being such a pud.
I was at fault that more people didn’t know how amazing Dylan was, for his injury, and for his stress. I wasn't enough. The feeling was real and came in unbearable waves between flaccid pep talks. While I could logically navigate the idea I did not bear responsibility for these things or everyone else's problems, I "believed" something else entirely. It wasn't a belief about our circumstances, but a long and deep rooted, cancerous belief about myself. It wasn't going away until I had the courage to take an honest look at it with all its rotten parts and figure out how to rip it out.
Rancid Juice Worth the Squeeze
Why was I like this and how did I allow an embarassingly deranged and hollow sense of self to pervade my life? Unwelcome, insufficent, inconvenient, a burden. If you had asked me to describe myself I wouldn't have used those words. I'd muster ego, use "correct" language that didn't sound pitiful. If I said I saw myself as small and my aim was to be small enough to not cause an inconvenience to anyone, most people would think that doesn't align with being an artist and the way I put myself out there. Admitting it out loud exposed a well of emotions and self inflicted abuse to be dealt with. It had been a constant dripping until the truth erupted like a full blown volcano.
This version of me didn't arrive when things went south for us. Circumstances only applied enough squeeze to instigate the most extreme dysfuctional manifestations. How stingily I assigned value to myself and sought to justify my existence was at the top and there for a long time. But now, none of my medicine was available to soothe me; there was no help I could offer others to prove my value while on empty, and little time or resources for music.
What's Behind This
A short blog post isn't a place to detail experiences that have been haunting my head and subconsciously driving my behavior, and I wouldn't want anyone to feel I'm lumping everyone, their beliefs or experience in the same pile. But I have religious based trauma. I've managed it in both unhealthy and healthy ways over time. But its mostly just been reacting, vs acting out of self-determination. I continued to stuff down and blame my unsettling feelings about unsettling things on my sinful and shameful self as I was indoctrinated to do, long after I quit "believing" that was right. And sprinkle in a coruncopia of ideas that outsourced my happiness and value to others.
I ran, locked my past up in a closet, did "brave" things, preteneded to be a person that was unaffected. All short term useful coping skills, but not for real change. Dylan's path of recovery opened my eyes to a parallel. Most people don't become alcoholics just because they like the taste of alcohol. I self medicated pain in different ways. Time to take responsibility for my well being and the rest of my life.
Hurt People Hurt People
What is important for me to say is this impacted others and not just me. A year ago I was my most hyper-vigilant, super sensitive towards events or interactions reminding me of my past or more recent repeats, of things or people that threatened my fragile sense of autonomy. I had (far worse) social anxiety. I was fearful of unknown consequences if I stood up for myself when I needed to, of being a disappointment. I bottled it up until my frustration bubbled over, usually misdirected towards Dylan. Inversely, I could respond disproportionately or trauma dump on others as I became more aware of what was going on with me.
My lack of sound judgement in determining friend or foe, healthy or unhealthy sometimes left me erring on the side of caution. My religious trauma involved narcissism and a persistent fawning pattern on my part I was experiencing in real time I was at my wits end with. I was afraid of embarassing myself in other triggering situations and so it was often easier to pull the proverbial shades. I was, and still can be, anti-social. Essentially, I've been like an adolescent, navigating a lot of confusing feelings and my sense of self that never got navigated, alone in my bedroom.
Valhalla
If I'm glad for anything, I'm glad these circumstances of 2024 brought me to a crossroads. I saw two, clear options for my future: fight to become human, learn to love myself even if it meant going to some dark places, or let the darkness swallow me up and become a ghost of someone that might have been. One option was more frightening that the other.
I can't say I'd want to relive the last 18-24 months and I'm not thankful Dylan or I have gone through what we have. Its been more like a graphic hangover, purging the poison. But I’ve gained a clearer picture of myself and have hope for myself. I wish certain turns of events never happened and I wasn't late blooming so hard. But I'm so very grateful for progress and that we've both been able to take the chance to be better - a chance some people never take.
What I Learned During My Unwanted Gap Year
I've "learned" to be kinder to myself - minimizing troubles and denying grief is not only unhelpful, it piles up and creates many other problems to sort out. I'm not good at being kind to "me" every day and ironically, this can be another source of frustration with myself. But I've learned the truth is, it takes practice, and learning patience. Nobody changes overnight just because they see the light. I've "learned" that reminding yourself of "blessings" daily does not mandate delusion or expempt yourself from having other needs. Comparing your situation to others as a gauge of what you're allowed to feel is not helpful. Grief, including grief for the things lost for living this way, its not a weakness. Its a function and a process necessary to move forward. Persistent lying about how you're doing is a disservice to yourself.
I've also learned grounding techniques that have helped in tough situations. I've learned how to identify and communicate my feelings and needs with a lot of practice with Dylan, few other people and a few big tests that went poorly as they always would have. This has been the most productive, frightening, and liberating thing - to say, "This is Me" and accept where the chips fall knowing everyone might not like it. But I'm making room for more of me, more joy, and more love in my life.
Why Share? We Aren't All Standard Issue
We all aren't standard issue but we are so often sold one size fits all answers. Social media is where people tend to get information for everything. The meme oriented pop-pshychology prolific there and everywhere is trite and often anything but helpful. Plus, with everyone living their best life there, its a one dimensional picture of the world. I'd rather be honest as appropriate, and I am grateful for others that are, too.
I have been awe-struck in the past year as I've connected with people with stories similar to mine. Hearing someone state in verbatim a thought, an experience, or express identical feelings and reactions over something when you thought you were alone in your experience has played a huge role in me getting better. From where I stand, I never want to tell anyone how they should live, feel, or act. No more black and white. I hope that anyone with demons to excercise finds the courage and support to face them for a better life. You are not alone.
Here's to fresh starts - always in stock.
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