A moment with myself

"Have you ever had the feeling
That the world's gone and left you behind?
Have you ever had the feeling
That you're that close to losing your mind?"
~Angel Eyes~

I left my last phase of depression long behind me; probably my only major phase. Clinically depressed? I don't know, I don't think so. When you're feeling so low and you're convinced there's no way you can crawl back out, you don't really stop to think about what a shrink would classify you as.

No, I never saw any shrinks, never took any pills. Pills would not have done any good as long as the cause existed. Well, causes, anyway.

I remember what it was like. Feeling so utterly low and tragic that it was hard to breathe. Sitting up nights on darkened corridors with a single candle and a cup of tea, weeping my eyes out. Long walks alone in the wee hours on lonely roads, thinking, thinking and thinking. Lying next to a sleeping male body, feeling utterly alone. Looking into another's haunting eyes and seeing the world lying in between us. Mourning the death of true, intense love, believing it gone forever. One heartbreak after another in rapid fire, clamouring and tripping over each other. Staggering down a flight of stairs with my head spinning wildly, alcohol raging in my blood, self-pity in front of me and a worried friend behind me. The constant fear that there was no way out of this, no salvation imminent, all self-worth a distant memory.

It's a strange feeling, remembering who I was, what it was like during an entirely different state in my life. It isn't that far removed, just a few years ago, but feels a world away. Maybe it's because I don't see the people who remind me of it anymore, maybe it's because I'd moved on to a new life situation, making it easier to distance myself from the soap opera that occurred before.

So young, so stupid, so vulnerable. Growing up doesn't take as long as some people think. I believe that the moment you get your heart broken, you grow up; and each time it gets broken again, you grow somemore. That makes me quite an aged hag, I suppose.

Why am I thinking back on all this? I'm not even thinking about the individual incidents on their own, the numerous times I had my heart diced, sliced and chucked into blenders. I'm hardly even thinking of the men and boys who whirled in and out, leaving destruction in their paths, their cruelty and/or apathy taking a part of me with them. I'm now considering them as a whole, a faceless generality (is there such a word?), collectively a part of my past and a part of who I am now.

What would I have been if I had never met them all? Don't think that's possible - I think I would have met all of them eventually, due to my nature and temperament. I've learnt and grown from all these experiences...but I do sometimes find myself wishing my youth could have been happier.

I'm in the last decade of my youth, and fighting hard to make the most of it. My first two decades was wasted on pleasing people, most of whom did not deserve the least of it, even those who loved me most. I'm much happier now, and am able to look back without feeling the pain in the same way, though I never forget how it felt. But I wonder sometimes, how long before I make an unforeseen turn and start down another street of sorrow?

"I walk along the street of sorrow
The boulevard of broken dreams"
~Boulevard of Broken Dreams~