(no subject)
So, I - got my hands on a pre-release copy of Vienna Teng's album and - figured, I'd listen, because I'll be buying it in about a week at the concert, and -
I am rarely perfectly honest with anyone. The vast majority of my life - of my self - is a very polite fiction. Someone told me tonight that they thought I was very "with it," which made me laugh so hard I almost cried, because I am quite honestly the least with it person I know. My life is a series of ups and difficult, painful, struggling downs that leave me exhausted a great deal of the time.
I've battled depression for what seems like a disproportionately enormous part of my life, probably four or five years, and it's obvious to people who know me and something I keep to myself with people who don't. It's, more than anything else, hard. I think anyone who's been here can understand that, and for anyone who hasn't, I hope you never do. I can't speak in generalizations, and I won't, but one of the things that's so difficult for this is that I have almost no sense of self. The person I see when I look in a mirror is a stranger; I have very little feel for who I am. I used to speak about growing into grace a lot, and it's a little like that, getting to know myself. I have rough edges and corners, and feelings. The hardest thing, I think, is that when I find something I like about myself, my head reels a little, because I don't know how to like myself. I walk past things that might be good because I'm convinced that I can't be them, I tend to fixate on the small, petty parts of my personality because it's what I know.
I can see that I'm selfish and cold and difficult to live with; it's harder to understand that I'm compassionate and intelligent and perhaps worth knowing. I rarely let anyone in, because I have a tremendous, impossible fear of being left. People often comment that I don't act my age, and of course, I think, that's true. Unhappiness often leaves very little room for childish things. I am one of the most censored, careful people I know. I'm worse about it than I used to be; I think part of it is that some of the people I trusted enough to open up around didn't repay the kindness very well. Touch often startles me - it's incredibly rare that I let someone touch me casually. I can probably count the number of people I'd be willing to settle down on a couch and watch a movie with on one hand. It's not that I'm not human, or that I don't feel, it's that other people are a deep, abiding mystery to me, and I am something of a mystery to myself. Trust is a little like deep water; I love the ocean, but there's a point where not being able to touch bottom is terrifying beyond all belief. I've often described the way trust feels as cupping your hands in the water and letting it run over. If water were joy, it might be an apt metaphor, but it's so incredibly difficult to get there. I've only trusted one person enough to let her hold my hands, there, and it's both the best and the worst feeling in the entire world. I'm bad at being vulnerable.
Life, for me, is a tremendously difficult, sharp-edged thing, but fighting all the time makes you grateful in ways I can't even begin to describe. I am having such a hard time right now that some mornings I roll over in bed and wonder if it's worth it to get up. There were a great many days last year when I only got out of bed to because I knew someone was waiting for me, I still don't know how to tell her how grateful I am. There are rarely enormously large things for me to be happy over, so I've learned to take joy in little, little things, and I truly, honestly love life. I don't always love myself, I don't always love other people, and I deal with anger and grief and overwhelming sadness on a daily basis. But I love life. I love the way it feels to slide under warm blankets in winter. I love ridiculous colors on guppies. I'm big on fireflies and screen doors, on rolling around in newly cut grass, on tea and Christmas and solving math problems. I'm passionate about the color of blueberry yogurt, finding my way to the baggage claim when someone I love is waiting, picnics and really good stories and puppy paws and china cups. And I'm big on people, from the woman I get up for to the boys who greet me every morning to the man whom I volunteered a concert with and didn't see again. I may not always get it, but I am always, thoroughly, completely grateful for humanity, for people. I know cruelty, apathy, ignorance, meanness, arrogance. I have probably been, or been hurt by, all of those things. But I live in a world built on a framework of trust and compassion. I know people, I know strangers, and I am carving out this very small place for myself. It's a matter of steps. Sometimes, you step backwards, and the world's so small you can fit it in your hands, but there are times when everyone you've ever known is just standing there smiling, and it's worth it. It's so worth it. It's always worth it.
My first impulse was to say that this song is beautiful, and it is. I think it may be the most beautiful song I've ever heard. But beneath that, this song is personal. It's how I look at the world, it's how I am, it's the way things go. I very often consider myself something of a patchwork quilt of a human being - I get my wrists and I can find myself in my writing and I know myself through loving other people, but it's rare that I find something that's thoroughly, completely me. This song is. It's how being in love with you felt, it's the satisfaction of a really good cup of coffee, it's winning at something when you hadn't any idea that you might.
I may not always be honest, but I am always grateful. Thank you.
Vienna Teng - Recessional
I am rarely perfectly honest with anyone. The vast majority of my life - of my self - is a very polite fiction. Someone told me tonight that they thought I was very "with it," which made me laugh so hard I almost cried, because I am quite honestly the least with it person I know. My life is a series of ups and difficult, painful, struggling downs that leave me exhausted a great deal of the time.
I've battled depression for what seems like a disproportionately enormous part of my life, probably four or five years, and it's obvious to people who know me and something I keep to myself with people who don't. It's, more than anything else, hard. I think anyone who's been here can understand that, and for anyone who hasn't, I hope you never do. I can't speak in generalizations, and I won't, but one of the things that's so difficult for this is that I have almost no sense of self. The person I see when I look in a mirror is a stranger; I have very little feel for who I am. I used to speak about growing into grace a lot, and it's a little like that, getting to know myself. I have rough edges and corners, and feelings. The hardest thing, I think, is that when I find something I like about myself, my head reels a little, because I don't know how to like myself. I walk past things that might be good because I'm convinced that I can't be them, I tend to fixate on the small, petty parts of my personality because it's what I know.
I can see that I'm selfish and cold and difficult to live with; it's harder to understand that I'm compassionate and intelligent and perhaps worth knowing. I rarely let anyone in, because I have a tremendous, impossible fear of being left. People often comment that I don't act my age, and of course, I think, that's true. Unhappiness often leaves very little room for childish things. I am one of the most censored, careful people I know. I'm worse about it than I used to be; I think part of it is that some of the people I trusted enough to open up around didn't repay the kindness very well. Touch often startles me - it's incredibly rare that I let someone touch me casually. I can probably count the number of people I'd be willing to settle down on a couch and watch a movie with on one hand. It's not that I'm not human, or that I don't feel, it's that other people are a deep, abiding mystery to me, and I am something of a mystery to myself. Trust is a little like deep water; I love the ocean, but there's a point where not being able to touch bottom is terrifying beyond all belief. I've often described the way trust feels as cupping your hands in the water and letting it run over. If water were joy, it might be an apt metaphor, but it's so incredibly difficult to get there. I've only trusted one person enough to let her hold my hands, there, and it's both the best and the worst feeling in the entire world. I'm bad at being vulnerable.
Life, for me, is a tremendously difficult, sharp-edged thing, but fighting all the time makes you grateful in ways I can't even begin to describe. I am having such a hard time right now that some mornings I roll over in bed and wonder if it's worth it to get up. There were a great many days last year when I only got out of bed to because I knew someone was waiting for me, I still don't know how to tell her how grateful I am. There are rarely enormously large things for me to be happy over, so I've learned to take joy in little, little things, and I truly, honestly love life. I don't always love myself, I don't always love other people, and I deal with anger and grief and overwhelming sadness on a daily basis. But I love life. I love the way it feels to slide under warm blankets in winter. I love ridiculous colors on guppies. I'm big on fireflies and screen doors, on rolling around in newly cut grass, on tea and Christmas and solving math problems. I'm passionate about the color of blueberry yogurt, finding my way to the baggage claim when someone I love is waiting, picnics and really good stories and puppy paws and china cups. And I'm big on people, from the woman I get up for to the boys who greet me every morning to the man whom I volunteered a concert with and didn't see again. I may not always get it, but I am always, thoroughly, completely grateful for humanity, for people. I know cruelty, apathy, ignorance, meanness, arrogance. I have probably been, or been hurt by, all of those things. But I live in a world built on a framework of trust and compassion. I know people, I know strangers, and I am carving out this very small place for myself. It's a matter of steps. Sometimes, you step backwards, and the world's so small you can fit it in your hands, but there are times when everyone you've ever known is just standing there smiling, and it's worth it. It's so worth it. It's always worth it.
My first impulse was to say that this song is beautiful, and it is. I think it may be the most beautiful song I've ever heard. But beneath that, this song is personal. It's how I look at the world, it's how I am, it's the way things go. I very often consider myself something of a patchwork quilt of a human being - I get my wrists and I can find myself in my writing and I know myself through loving other people, but it's rare that I find something that's thoroughly, completely me. This song is. It's how being in love with you felt, it's the satisfaction of a really good cup of coffee, it's winning at something when you hadn't any idea that you might.
I may not always be honest, but I am always grateful. Thank you.
Vienna Teng - Recessional