On Why I Don’t Think I’m Cut Out For This

So now I’ve spilled pretty much my entire life story on the internetwebs, and I gotta tell those of you who have stuck with me this long…what the fuck is wrong with you!?

And I mean that in the best way possible.

Because you see, I’ve never had very many people in my life who have heard even a FRACTION of this bullshit and thought to themselves, “that this is a bitch I wanna know more about!”

But here you are, having heard SO much shit about who I am and how fucked up I am and all the bullshit I’ve been through and all my vary and sundried, absolutely DELIGHTFUL neuroses…and I’m not even paying you to shrink my head, and you’re still here, ready to hear more.

Damn. You are one badass human being.

God, there’s just something fucked up about having moved cross-country when I was 12 years old, and then all the bullshit that happened to me afterwards, that makes me feel like I’m damaged beyond what any human would ever want to tolerate.

And what’s SUPER fucked up is that, there are people who have been through WORSE than me who feel this way.

People who have been through WORSE than JUST going through cancer while pregnant.

Or WORSE than being married to an unfaithful husband.

Or WORSE than growing up in a cult.

Or WORSE than being abused in SO many ways for SO much of your life.

Like, if I can get through all that shit and STILL reach out to people yet STILL feel like I’m not worth ANYONE’S time…what must those “other” people feel like?

I got to the brink of killing myself, and was STILL able to reach out for help, after ALL that shit I’ve been through.

I had a psychotic break.

I grew up cutting myself to relieve some of the pain that I had nothing constructive to do with when I wasn’t making music (which was sometimes hard, because there were those who hated to hear my voice raised in song).

But, just shy of 30 years old, at the lowest point in my life when I thought the ENTIRE space-time continuum would be better off without my existence to get in the way…I found a handful of people who I trusted enough to reach out to, and KNEW that they would drop everything the moment they had a chance and do whatever it took to helpe me hold on until I could get some real, professional help.

And I was breathtaking lucky to have those people, given how fucked up those few know I can be sometimes.

Not everyone with the kind of issues I have have those types of people they can reach out to in their darkest moments.

A few weeks later, when I was literally questioning reality itself, I still had people who were there for me.

For fuck’s sake…what the fuck have I ever done to deserve THAT kind of love?

I absolutely do NOT think I’m cut out to be the kind of person who spills their life on the internetwebs and has people who ACTUALLY want to hear what I have to say. I have never thought I’d be the kind of person who people set aside time to listen to. 

People have told me I’m “inspirational,” and that kind of talk scares the ever-loving SHIT out of me. I’m the person who silently begs for people to be as weird as me so they won’t immediately get as far away from me as possible becaume I’m freaking them the fuck out.

But then I realize that there are people out there who feel that same way, and are begging the Powers That Be to find someone as fucked up as them, and I want to scream from the rooftops just how fucked up *I* am, so they can find me and feel less alone for just a little while.

I’m not a professional. I’m not perfect. What I AM is someone who has managed to find ways to keep going when every single minute of every single day was spent figuring out how to function without having a panic attack so I could take care of my child.

I think sometimes all people need is to feel they’re not alone.

Maybe my voice will help someone with that.

The worst thing I’ve ever felt, with all the shit I’ve ever been through, was alone. Please, regardless of where you are in your life, know that you’re not alone, no matter where you are.

Blessed be, ya’ll.

Advertisement