I've wanted to write these things...

here for a while now, but kept forgetting when I came to the keyboard. Tonight, candles lit, catching their golden fingers round threads of smoke, headphones firmly clamping my ears, and a new song, a new artist I am suddenly floored by, awaking my spirit to old thoughts, and renewed passion for real, tangible growth. Yes, a friend of mine insisted Kelly Clarkson is talented, and I, basing my decision entirely on radio hits, said that I just didn't really get anything from her music, didn't find it exceptional in any way. Today my friend posted a thousand Kelly Clarkson videos to my facebook, and I listened first to, "Sober," and have to say that this song is going to be playing on my ipod nonstop. This is going to be my background song. This is the song that sends me back in my rocking chair, knees tucking excitedly into my chest, smile breaking my face open, spirit flying up. I will wear this song out.

The reason I love this song is not necessarily because of Kelly's vocal talents, but I feeeel this song. This song is sticking in my skin like summer sun, like something long missed. I feel like I am finding a letter in a box, a secret joy that was always waiting somewhere beneath a shadow. The aspect I love most is simply the three months.

It reminds me of a time, during my senior year of high school, my youth pastor called me because a girl I knew was considering giving up, ending her life. When I met her in a room at the church she showed me the pills, she rolled them in her hands. I didn't know what to tell her.

It came to me somehow to get up and literally walk forward in the room, and have her walk with me. And it was the simplest thing. We talked about taking one step forward. That was all. She gleamed. I don't remember entirely what went on in that room, but I remember that, this discussion of steps. I asked her to, every time she felt like ending it all, stepping back, stepping out, to try and inch forward. Literally, I told her to feel it, feel it with her toes, get up, and inch forward. And if she had to step back sometimes, she could, and that was okay, because someday she'd move farther again. She would go somewhere. And that was the point. That we get somewhere. We go places. We change, and we do it so slow sometimes, we have to look back, we have to force our eyes over our shoulders and see the distance. She called me to tell me when she moved forward. Honestly, it was so simple. So simple. But sometimes, that's all we need, I guess. To feel like somebody is willing to stand beside us and inch and tell us it's okay if we have to take a few steps back sometimes, and that they know, they trust our goodness, our possibilities, our potential enough, the Bigger world enough, that we will go forward again, we will not be stuck forever.

I fall into depression every so often, particularly when the world grows colder and I begin to feel forgettable, unworthy, unlovable, even repulsive. It's painful. Physically. And in those moments where every fear, every worst thought comes stabbing (I literally think of that scene in Lord of The Rings where the wraiths plunge their swords into the feathery beds), I feel the deep plunges, the incredible voids making themselves in my stomach, spreading their weight onto my spine.

Today, I felt this. I took a nap, and snap, as soon as the alarm sounded I felt the deep churning, the terrible shadow coming down. I couldn't stop the thoughts--the joblessness (despite the fact that my seasonal job only ended a few days ago and I still do have one job), the masks I wear in different environments to keep people pleased, the pain that I haven't just let the joy out (let myself laugh and joke and play like I want to because I'm too busy playing the game in my head, worrying and controlling and feeling my way, trying to stay one step ahead), the dependence of my situation, the looming of graduate school deadlines and I've done nothing, the incredible weight of potential failure arriving in soft light envelopes in a few months, my inability to just be brave and live what I have always wanted to live.

I read this thing once, I believe in The Artist's Way, (and this is what I've wanted to write here for so long), about imagining yourself five years from now looking on yourself now. In the exercise, you're supposed to consider what you would say to that self? What would you do to that self?

And Wow. I hear that question ring in my head, I think of myself five years from now wherever the hell I am, single, married, still struggling in the job market, dealing with all sorts of strife, and not giving a damn. I think of that self seeing this self who is so scared and sad and worried and crazy and I think of rushing to her and holding her to my chest and just whispering to her that I don't want her to worry, that I want her to be free, that I wish to free her. My God, the compassion I would feel, the compassion I do feel, thinking this way. It's amazing. I want to rush myself and save me. I want to say, let's go, let's do this, let's get up, let's walk around this room, let's walk out, let's walk around the city and sing OUT LOUD. MY GOD LET'S SING FOR SOMEONE RIGHT NOW.

I am listening to this song on repeat, joining Kelly near the end, my spirit-voice scream-singing that three months thinking, Wow, thinking, how long can I keep this. KEEP THIS. I think of goals to make. Small small forward steps. Like making my bed in the morning. Like, staying off of facebook for a while. Like writing in my journal. Making art. Singing. Singing all the time. Setting out to really find a good job. Really finally putting that portfolio together that I've been planning for some time. Really finishing jobs. Really being honest and brave and just bulldozing terror as if fear isn't worth my time anymore. Who cares? Who cares? I have places to go, people to kiss, hands to take, hearts to accept and love and remain open to. I have poems to write, books to write, letters to write, songs to write. I have things to do. And I won't stay pinned in the sweat and toil depression takes.

Cheers to counting steps and looking back with immense pride. I have come a long long way already, and I am so proud.