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How Pink’s music saved my life. Literally.

How Pink’s music saved my life. Literally.

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I know that is a huge statement to make. Trust me, though. After the past few years, I was barely hanging on. How does Pink fit into this? Let me go back to the first time her music made a big difference during a dark time.

In the spring of 2010 I was thrown into a very dark period in my life. People I thought were friends turned on me in a vicious and cruel way. I was quickly on my way to a complete breakdown. I felt so alone. (Spoiler: These wanna-be important women turning on me and making me the odd mom out and banished from the PTA was one of the best things to happen to me. Not fitting with most of those women became the cornerstone of discovering who I really was and who I absolutely did not want to be.)

While I was trying to pick myself up, my Dad called me and told me my sister, Michelle, was in the ER because she was literally having a nervous breakdown. I “rescheduled” my own issues to be there for her. That became the summer I went to live with her for a month. I took two of my kids with me to hang out with their cousins so I could focus on my sister. It was so hard to reach her. Her husband wasn’t there because they were separating. That was a huge catalyst for her pain.

One afternoon while we were lying in her bed, scrolling on our phones, I came across Pink’s video of “So What” and began to crack up. My sister looked over and wanted to watch it. For the first time since I had come to stay, she started to laugh. A real laugh. Her comments had me cracking up. “Whaaaat? oh my gawd, is she on a tractor? Ohhhhhhh no … eggs for the newlyweds.” And she laughed and laughed. We watched that video over and over just so she would feel good and laugh. Thus began our tradition of sending videos, song lyrics, and new songs to each other.

As a writer, I am a lover of words. But sometimes? Sometimes it’s just hard to find the right ones. Pink said it all in so many ways. One of us would be feeling down about ourselves, “F*cking Perfect” was a go-to. Mad at the men in our lives? “True Love” hit the spot. Getting pumped up for a night out? “Get the Party Started.” You get the idea. this went on for years. From Pink’s earliest albums to Beautiful Trauma, there was a song for everything we could possibly want to share. It was just our thing. When I would get a text or email from her, there was a good chance there was a song lyric in it. I did the same for her.

Eleven days before “Hurts 2B Human” was released in 2019, my sister lost her battle with depression and took her own life.

I knew she was gone before I was told. I felt it. There isn’t a word for losing a sibling. You just lose a part of your history. I lost my best friend. I doubled down taking care of everyone I could. I didn’t want to feel what I knew I would feel if I let myself open up. Then I heard “Hurts2B Human” and the songs that would play to heal me for the first time.

I wanted to send it to her. I wanted to scream that, yes, it does hurt to be human. For all of us. But I couldn’t. She left me. And I felt broken and alone.

God, it hurts to be human
Without you, I’d be losing
And someday, we’ll face the music
God, it hurts to be human

So many of the songs and lyrics on that album hit.

“So can we pretend that I’m 22 today?
Dancin’ on the tables with you, oh yeah
Can we pretend that we all end up okay?
I just wanna forget with you, oh yeah”

When I think of Michelle, I don’t think of how she died but how she lived. She was funny, outgoing, and beautiful. She didn’t care what other people thought of her. She knew who she was. To me? She was my hero. I trailed her around for as long as I could remember. She was my big sister and in my eyes, she could do no wrong.

Until she left me.

I don’t think I really faced my grief until my Daddy passed away 2 years later. It was too much to feel but impossible to not feel it all. I lost my words. I stopped writing and gave up on my writing dreams. I had lost the lyrics to my own life.

One day I eagerly clicked on Pink’s new song “When I Get There.” I was not prepared. I cried and made sounds that were barely human. It was all the grief from losing my Mom years ago, my big sister a few years before, and my Daddy. As I’m sure many people feel, I felt it was written for me. That my sister was giving me a heavenly wink. I do imagine her sitting up there (somewhere) with my Mom and Daddy chatting it up and watching the sunset. Always with a margarita in her hand and laughter over the silly things that get blown out of proportion.

Is there a bar up there
Where you’ve got a favorite chair
Where you sit with friends
And talk about the weather?
Is there a place you go
To watch the sunset and oh
Is there a song you just can’t wait to share?
Yeah I know you’ll tell me when I get there

Every time I hear that song I cry. I miss her so much. I miss my parents. And I am sure they are with me, just not in the way I want them to be.

Not too long ago I went to a very dark place. A very dark place. I wanted to be with my sister and parents. I didn’t know how to do “life” anymore. I didn’t think I wanted to do it anymore. I didn’t tell anyone how dark it got. I was searching for a reason to stay. I had so many right in front of me with my husband and three kids. But? I thought they would be okay.

As I sat in my car in the park one evening I really listened to “Turbulence” and what it said.

When you say that you can’t
I will watch you dance through this turbulence

I felt that. I mean, I really felt that. It was as if I could picture my sister telling me she is watching me and she will dance with me through the panic, and dark times, and when I feel like my life is crashing.

So when it hits, don’t forget
As scary as it gets, it’s just turbulence

It’s just turbulence.

At that moment I knew I couldn’t leave my husband and (grown) babies. The feelings were temporary. I had a group in heaven watching and ready to watch me dance through this turbulence. That they were there to celebrate the good and love me from heaven through the bad.

That song. That moment. Those lyrics literally saved my life that day.

Now I don’t know if Pink will ever see this or know the story of my sister and I sharing love, support, and laughter through her lyrics. Nor will I know if Pink will ever know the power her songs have for her fans. I hope so. She should know that they are more than just hit songs. They can change lives. From “So What” to “When I Get There” to “Turbulence” and more, they touch lives in the deepest way.

So to Pink, thank you for the music and for a connection to Michelle and my mom, and my Daddy. You saved me.

Literally.

Addiction, Anxiety and Depression are Liars – Part Two

Addiction, Anxiety and Depression are Liars – Part Two

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If you haven’t read Part I, you need to go read it first. It’s right here. (But wow! I can get wordy when I don’t post in a while so it was too long. But if you’re reading these back to back it is still too long.)

"The Sob" by David Alfaro Siqueiros taken at the MoMA in NYC
“The Sob” by David Alfaro Siqueiros taken at the MoMA in NYC

So where was I? Oh, yes, I was telling you about being plunged into a darkness unlike any I have known before. The trigger was a broken heart but it was far from the cause. It was as if someone had actually thrown a dark, heavy blanket over my head. I sort of, kind of tried to share with some friends but it wasn’t a true opening up. It was more saying I needed a break and was stressed out. When I saw this was different, I reached out and emailed a friend who I knew went through this and has learned to deal with it and is open about it. (I just didn’t think I could or should reach out to my friends because everyone has something going on and no one needs my extra drama. Reaching out to someone who I know has been there and come through it seemed like reaching out to another addict. You go to those who have gone before. And? I really don’t want to be “that” friend.) After a few emails (and trust me when I say it was one of the hardest things to do to even email) many of them with me apologizing for “bothering” her and sharing my embarrassment about being so weak, she sent me an email I needed to read at that moment.

Never feel humiliated for reaching out.  You are worth more
than you know and I’m here for you.  Promise.

Many times since then I have pulled out that email and read and re-read it to remind myself that there is someone who knows where I am.

Much like when I confessed that I don’t want to talk but wish I had a friend’s hand to hold. One of my dearest friends sent me a message with no words. It simply had a picture of her hand. In case I needed to remember that someone was there to hold my hand if I ever needed it. A reminder she cared.

Many times when it seems the darkest, I stare at that picture and pretend I have not isolated and she really is there to hold my hand.

It’s a double edge sword having many of the people who know you best and are the very closest to you live so very far away from you. It is so easy to say you need some time offline and shut down connections. But then when it gets to a point where you are drowning or feeling completely alone, it is harder to reach out. It’s an ugly cycle. You need to be alone but alone makes things worse but you hear the lies of depression and don’t feel worthy of your friends so you pull further away and it gets darker and your feelings of worthlessness grow stronger and the lies are more believable and you pull even deeper into yourself… And on and on.

There were days where the hardest thing to do (and what I considered my biggest success) was simply getting out of bed and going through the motions of the day. It kicks my other two “bad guys” into gear: addiction and anxiety. I start really wishing I could just take something, just medicate myself to wellness. But I know better. And then anxiety tells me I can’t share what I am going through because I will be judged. I will be mocked. I will lose those I love. All the while depression taps me on the shoulder with the sing-song voice mocking “I told you so! Forever alone! I told you so! Forever alone!” (Assholes!)

Remember back when I told you as a recovering addict? How I don’t have the best coping skills? I’m learning. I mean, I sought out someone to talk to and we’re working through the issues that brought me to this point. From not really dealing with the death of my mother to the nervous breakdown my former “friends” slammed me to the ground with to ways of reaching out to the people I love so they can tell me what is a lie and what is real. (That last one is the very hardest for me.)

And I know that sounds absolutely ridiculous between an “obvious” lie and reality. How can anyone not know the difference? Well, sometimes it really is hard to tell. When everything to your core shouts that you are worthless and not worthy of the friends and family you have because look at what the former “friends” you had did to you, it  feels so real.

I know the darkness will lift and the world will feel bright and light again. I know this. I just hope and pray that when it does, I haven’t pushed away everyone I love. I don’t want it to be too late. This? This is not the end of the story.

It is just the beginning.

Addiction, Anxiety, and Depression are Liars.

Addiction, Anxiety, and Depression are Liars.

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Addiction is a liar. It tells you to numb yourself when things get too stressful. It tells you no one will know and you it will help you out. That one drink or one fix won’t make any difference. That you really are funnier, happier, and better off when you are using. It’s not really “addiction,” you just enjoy the feeling now and then. It’s not going to effect your life. Addiction is a liar.

Anxiety is a liar. It tells you things really are that bad. It tells you the panic you feel is justified. That you may not know why you feel anxious but you should “listen to your gut” because bad things could happen. That you may be right about there not being enough oxygen in this room for everyone. That you shouldn’t go to that event because you won’t fit in, will be laughed at, or that you really don’t belong there and everyone will know it. Anxiety is liar.

Depression is a liar. It tells you that you are not worthy. That you don’t really matter even to the people who say you do. That if you disappeared, it wouldn’t make a difference to anyone. That people would be better off without you and your broken self. It tells you the darkness will last forever and you’re not strong enough to come out of it. It tells you that you are alone and no one understands you. It says it won’t get better. It tells you that even if you did share your desperation, no one would understand and it would only make things worse. Depression is a liar.

If you know anything about me, you know I have no problem talking about the fact that I am a recovering addict. And? I’ve addressed anxiety and having panic attacks before. I have absolutely no problem talking about those two things. I will share my stories. I have shared my tips on how to conquer them when you feel as if they are strangling you. I have shown you ways to see that there is a light at the end of the tunnel and signs to recognize that you will come out of it. (And be stronger and feel happiness when you come through it.)

But depression? Oh hell no! Don’t talk about that one. It is “t-a-b-o-o.” Depression means crazy. It means sick. It means you are weak and probably a drama queen. (Lies.) But what I learned about addiction and anxiety is when you talk about them and share your story not only do you help yourself and others but you take away the power it holds over you. When kept in the darkness, those things can set up camp in your mind and become more powerful than they deserve.

So I am sharing with you. (Because I want to take away its power.)

crying
This is the face of depression. Of broken.

I’ll be honest. I never really dealt with things the way I should have after my Mom died. Hell, I didn’t deal with things as I should have during the six months prior to her dying while she was in the hospital. But life doesn’t stop just because your world feels like it fell apart. It doesn’t even pause. Life moves on. And so did I. There were some big life changes that happened in the years that followed. Big or small, good or bad, I pushed them down into the vault where I would deal with them on the surface but never really deal with them. Then in the Spring of 2010, I hit a breaking point. You see, that year I did something I never thought I would do. I stepped up into a job that I wanted to do out of passion but knew I would need the support of friends. At the time, these friends swore they would be there to help. People who said they cared and said they were there for me in truth were not. As it turns out, those “friends” very viciously and publicly turned on me and stabbed me in the back. Now, the Jenn who took drug addiction and kicked its ass would have stood up and fought back. She would never have just backed off and allowed the malicious intent of toxic people to spread rumors, lies, and downright try to ruin me. But that Jenn was buried under so many other issues in life that she couldn’t take this one on. And they broke my heart. My spirit. Me. I broke. I watched and just let things happen that shouldn’t have happened. I chose to sink deeper into myself rather than stand up to the bullshit around me. I let people who wanted to believe the crap that was being hurled believe it. And those who knew me or truly wanted the truth, I told them. It was a rough year following that. I isolated. But on the plus side, I truly saw who was toxic and who were bullies and who really didn’t need to be in my life. I made new friends who saw the truth. But really? I just didn’t have it in me to face this all head on. The broken parts of me were too broken to handle it. And life became too busy for me to truly deal with everything. My family needed me. That summer was just a time where more bits of me were broken off. But I had responsibilities that I couldn’t put off. So I moved on.

Of course during all of this I did the worst possible thing I could do: I isolated and refused to shed light on the broken parts. As a recovering addict, I know if I am struggling with addiction, I have to talk to someone. I have to tell someone the lies I am believing so they can show me what is real. When I am struggling with anxiety, I have learned I need to talk to someone who has been there who can show me that I will be okay and how to push through it. It always shatters the lies I was believing and helps me through because they show what is a lie and what is real.

But with depression? I stay silent. I always have. If anything, I minimize it and just say I am a bit down.

I got through that hard time with friends who really were friends and who loved me for me. Did I ever deal with it as I should have? Not really. And life moves on.

I could see the ebb and flow of depression and I dealt with it the best way I knew how. I started to become me again and was happy and enjoyed time with my family and my friends and life felt right again.

Obviously, as a recovering addict, I don’t really have the best coping skills. (Duh!) But I have learned (as best I can) to live life on life’s terms. I can’t change other people. I can’t make anyone be someone they aren’t or do something they don’t want to do.  That’s just a fact. Good things began to happen in my life this summer. Things that make me so happy! One of my closest friends moved back to town after 3 years. I was able to spend an amazing few days in NYC with some of my dearest friends laughing, crying, being myself. Truly and without apology being myself. (That is rare but oh so needed to be around people where I feel as if I can truly be myself and am loved in spite of it. Maybe even because of it.)

And a couple of weeks ago things changed. Someone I love broke a promise to me and it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. And it threw me into a darkness unlike any I have been through before….

(This is becoming quite long so stick with me, take a break and then go read part II)