Sunday, January 19, 2014


I turn 42 tomorrow.

The age all Douglas Adams fans anticipate with great excitement. The year we become the answer to life, the universe, and everything...whatever that means. We're all still looking for the ultimate question as far as I know.

And I'm celebrating it by attending the memorial service for Acr0nym's father.

He had a heart condition - his first heart attack came 25 years ago - so it's not like this was completely out of the blue. But the timing couldn't be any worse...for Acr0nym, for TC, for their mother...for me.

The last two months, I...well, there isn't much I can say about it publicly. In so many ways it isn't my story to tell. Even though I played, and continue to play, a central character in the story, it still isn't my story to tell and I am so lost for words. I am so lost period.

Lost enough to seek out therapy for the first time in 8 years.

Lost enough to beg my doctor for help in the form of as-needed anti-anxiety medication for the first time ever (which, as it turns out, I'm too damned anxious to take).

Lost enough to be worried about how many hours a day I'm sleeping...something I haven't done since I was 15, since my suicide attempt. Worried and wondering if I'm sleeping because I'm depressed and attempting to escape my reality as I did back then or sleeping because it's my body's way of trying to heal from trauma.

All the time knowing anxiety is driving the question and the answer (TAKE THE PILL ALREADY, JANE!!!).

Still...the jury is still out because anxiety doesn't trust itself.

Anxiety, like all mental illnesses, lies.

And there has been so. much. anxiety.

So much grief.

So much loss and lost.

While trying to be strong and available and proactive and ridiculous. 

I'm going to regret this in the morning.


SpeedRussr said...

I will always be older than you. 42 was epic. You know why? Because it was another year I was alive to live this adventure. Happy Birthday to you. Make 2014 "epic as hell".

nakedjen said...

Sweet, Beautiful, Amazing, Incredible Jane. The day after you flip to 42, I flip to 50. I wish I had some calm soothing way to say everything will be all right, but I know too well that you know I would be lying.

Instead I will just share that I do know that you are one of the very special ones who feels far deeper and more passionately than most, whose heart beats so far outside her chest that it is easily crushed and that that anxiety you're feeling, why, yes, it does lie, but I do believe and know it is also very real. And maddening.

I want you to know that I love you in all the crazy mixed up ways a person like me can possibly love you and that I get it.

Have no regrets, sweet Jane. None. You are exactly as beautifully you precisely because you show up just as you are.

I wish you the most beautiful of years as we spin around the sun again, with all the crazy and all the love and all the upside down and right side up and everything in between but most of all with all the beautiful moments that take your breath away and remind you exactly why you are you and why you were born.

I am grateful that you were and that I get to love you.

Happy Birthday, soul sister. ❤️

Gaelyn said...

Please try Not to Panic. Sorry for this loss. You will survive.

And don't forget your towel.

Happy Birthday dear Jane.

Anonymous said...

I love you. All that is right now will change. That's sometimes all there is to hang on to--the knowledge that everything changes--so hang on to that. Today's suckage will absolutely make way for tomorrow's better stuff. I promise, and I love you.

TangledLou said...

Oh Jane. First, this whole post is a reminder to me of all the things I love about you. Beginning with the Douglas Adams reference, ending with the Cracker song and everything in between.
Yes, mental illness lies, but you know what else lies? Our world. The world that tells us that we're supposed to be happy/peaceful/life of the party/present/positive all the time or we're doing something wrong. Sucky things hurt and I'm sorry for the hurt. Sometimes things hurt for no real good reason, but you're still here, you're pulling along, figuring it out, doing what you can. That's all any of us can do, right? We make it work one way or another.
It's exciting to turn 42. I'm excited that you get to turn 42 this year. Don't forget your towel.