Sometimes I find meaning in the strangest things. Like for example in a He-Man song. Okay wait, maybe I should clarify. You see, despite my disgusting ignorance of all things pop culture I of course was no stranger to this gem:
I didn’t however, realize that this was a parody of an actual song that came out close enough to when I did* for it to be considered my birth right to have grown up with it. Upon discovering the 4 Non Blondes’ version (and dear Gods, the absolute perfection that is 27 year old Linda Perry. I seriously hope I’m half as cool as this two years from now) I caught myself thinking, “I actually really digging this”** For the better part of a lot longer than I’m willing to admit, I’ve been listening*** to it on repeat. And seriously, the
evident side effect of being in a manic phase for the better part of a fortnight. careless joy I feel in just belting this song even after the (conservatively) err, 43rd? time I’ve heard it is just kind of disgusting magical, really.
I don’t mean to get into the greater discussion of fate or run in circles on the debate that everything happens for a reason. I’ve run myself ragged enough too many times trying to seek that very “reason”. But I’m coming to realize that in some types of madness, there’s no reason to be had. And that’s okay. And one day I’ll be able to say that with a lot more conviction. I’m certainly looking forward to it. In the meantime, I’m entertaining the belief that, perhaps, certain things come into our life- be they challenges, people, songs, in a time in our life when we’re able to deduce a tiny shred of sense from a world that’s seems otherwise mad. And, at least for me, that moment feels like the sheer disbelief of encountering an oasis after countless mirages.
If only for a moment now, though, I feel rooted in reality- like it’s safe to venture out of Wonderland and believe that maybe, just maybe I can do this. Allow myself the luxury of feeling real, and drop this ceaseless fear of the Jaberwocky waiting for me to let down my guard to gobble me up. I mean, I’ve been turned every which way by the Cheshire Cat and pondered with the Caterpillar time and time again; spoke to door mice and mad hatters, frantic rabbits and raging mad queens, and every character in between. The way I see it, if the Jaberwocky’s meant to make me his lunch, I’ll go out having seen all the curious things I can see, and I’ll go down fighting.
“Twenty-five years and my life is still
Trying to get that great big hill of hope
For a destination”
Twenty fives years now I’ve been viewing “better” as a destination. It hasn’t been until recently that I’ve decided to learn how to embrace the mods and glitches that are so unbearably unique to me and trust that they will serve me well on my journey. I’m no motivational speaker, I’m well aware. I’m like the Matt Foley of mental health blogging. But I make no apologies for that, because dammit I know what it’s like to be lost in Wonderland and to know no other way to tread but on eggshells, and for the first time I’m realizing what a delightfully twisted tango life is. And I want to dance. I want to stomp about, laughing, and shout it from the mountain tops, hold each and every one of you who are broken, hurting, healing, hoping- let you know I’d be honored to step on your feet as we try to find our rhythm.
Because I’m here for you. You know, in case you were wondering…
I really hope these ramblings serve you in some way- whether you’re glad you read it or glad you’re not in my pants. I mean shoes. I MEAN SHOES, GUYS! I’m basically letting you into my heart’s pants though, because I’m laying all my broken, ugly, scattered cards out on the table in hopes I might give be that little thing you use to remind yourself it’s not all bad in the world. That you’re not alone. Depression lies, and I know, because more and more lately, I find little moments in which I’m furiously happy.
I was hesitant in writing this- let alone posting it. Because I’ve been trying to operate on a schedule- frantically trying to force my mind to make words on a deadline of my own devising. Posting this nonsense this late? People would think I’m crazy!
Some of us are just waking up, while others may be on their 36th hour without sleep. Broken brains don’t work a 9 to 5, and mine hard does at all, so I figure I may as well take what I can, when I can get it. With that being said, I hope that, whether you’ve just woken up, are off to bed, or somewhere in between, this finds you when you need it and finds you well.
Post-Script Disclaimer Section System That Probably Has a Real Name [I.E- Derailed Trains of Thought]
*I mean close enough to when I came out of my Birth Giver’s womb, not when I came out of the closet. That was today actually. Either I have amazing friends (who totally already knew) and therefore paid my announcement no mind, or– actually, I’m just going to entertain the notion, however briefly, that that’s the case. Thanks for understanding, everyone… <3
**I literally grew an ironic goatee and developed an intense yearning for a Pumpkin Spice Latte immediately after having this thought.
***When I say listen, I mean “I SCREAM TO THE TOP OF MY LUNGS, WHAT’S GOING ON! AND I SAY HEYAHEYAHEYA–” err, -clears throat- I’m sorry you had to witness that. I’ll see myself out >.> ™
™: And by I’m sorry, I really mean you’re welcome. Also, I’m not sure if TM can really be used as a sort of post-script disclaimer thingy, but it was the only other symbol I could think of that goes up in the corner. But now it’s trademarked, so I don’t have to worry about my genius being stolen. Because that would be awful for everyone involved…®
® And by awful I mean amazing. Also this post-script disclaimer section system is getting pretty complicated.©
©If someone knows the proper term for the post-script disclaimer section system, please let me know, because I appear to have fallen down a rabbit hole with this…