Bubble Gum and Bailing Wire

I once asked the group if they were pro guns and the majority belted out in approval. I asked a man in the front row why he was pro guns and he gave me the basic ‘personal protection liberty 2nd amendment’ jazz.

I told the group, “I’m pro guns because I enjoy living in a world with only four Nirvana albums.” My depression was the only one who laughed.

So a guy is walking with a young boy into the woods.

Boy “hey mister its getting dark out and I’m scared”

Man “how do you think I feel, I have to walk back alone”


It’s back with a vengeance.  I don’t know if my black dog runs in cycles. Fall always seems the worst.

141001081059-kelly-slater-big-wave-super-169At certain times I don’t hide it. When I’m around people I know and trust I can talk about it. I can scream and  yell or curl up in a ball. I’m also extremely empathetic and realize when I should keep to myself and try and ride it out. Well, I’m surfing the big waves and am heading straight into that pipeline. When It knocks me off my board I’m going to grab a hold of it and hang on till the tide brings me in.

It has eased off for so long that I thought I may of had it licked, but the elephant sitting on my chest is back, I’m not speaking, I cry way too often to release my breath that I didn’t know I was holding. The feeling of being scared 24/7 for absolutely no reason, with no where to go and no one to I want to see me like this. I’ve isolated and have become someone to avoid. I think that’s what always hurt the worst. Knowing that it’s above most people’s pay grade. I have ostracized my friends.

I’m constantly doing something artistic. It’s a way to express what I’m feeling, keeping my mind off of what I’m feeling, keeping busy so I don’t dwell.

I write for the same reasons. Not to gather sympathy but it’s cathartic to put pen to paper, or in this case pound out a blog post to make me feel like I’m still in a good enough state of mind to be able to think straight and know there is still hope.

A little secret to make you think:
Why is the crazy stuff we never say
poetry in ink?

Smokin’ day-glow red;
Explodo pink!
Purple mountains majesty –
Show me you? I’ll show you me.

People will talk to me about their own problems with chronic depression. When they read my words they don’t feel so alone. I may not know the circumstances but I can relate to the feeling.

milI’m going to be talking to a friend who I have never met tonight. She’s fighting this as hard if not harder than me. We talked a few weeks ago and she spilled to a stranger who she met through swapping smart ass remarks on Facebook about those douche bag ‘patriots’  who stormed a bird sanctuary gift shop in Oregon a few years ago.

I don’t know what I’ll tell her but I’ll keep talking until we get a plan for her to deal with own personal demons.

I know what people are telling her. “You are beautiful. You have a great family, loving wonderful husband. You are an educated professional. What do you have to be down about?” I can feel her pain simply through Facebook posts. She lets a bit of it seep out now and then  before going back to being a smart ass, and sweet, and as far as I know a really great person.

I landed a job at a Monterey hotel working nights. It’s perfect. I come into work. Relieve my co-worker. Do some paper work, answer a phone call, and set up your ‘Free Continental Breakfast!’ In other words I set the cereal out.

imagesBy the time I go in nobody is up and I rarely see anyone during the night. I leave before they start checking out. It’s a great job, pays well, and I want to keep it. Here is my problem. I think I need to go to the hospital. If I go I will lose the job, if I don’t go I’ll lose my mind. I’m at that point. I can’t see the future. That scares me. I’m not suicidal, but i’m not living either.  The joke around here is I’m Winnie the Pooh’s friend Eeyore. Agreed. A pretty close analogy.

I’m homesick for my friends and for my family but I don’t want to leave California. I’ll never make it back. I’ll be some pitiful mother fucker living in Greenup where I will isolate myself there also. I’m not really even sure I’m welcome home. I know things are easier when I’m away. I don’t want to rock that boat or makes things bad on those I love.

I’d have to find a new job, a place to live, get a new doctor, new medications. At the end of that road this will come back again.

Then what?



  1. I am sorry you are struggling. And I know you love your job….but your sanity is more important. Go to the hospital. please! In blogging my own, sometimes pathetic story, I find some peace. Your art and writing are therapy in themselves…however, sometimes you need more help than it can give. I love you for helping your new friend. I love you for sharing! And I love you because, well, I just love you. Get some help, Sammy, so you can live again.

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  2. Oh Sammie!! I’m sitting in my recliner with ice On my knee. 4 weeks ago I had a knee replacement. I’m doing ok, just can’t do much.
    I’m so sad to read this about you. I wish like hell they would find a cure for your depression. I don’t have bad depression but when the seasons changes and around holidays I get sad. But I have no clue what you are dealing with.
    You know, I could call your boss and talk to him/her about you. I do have a gift for gab, when I’m in the right mood. I called the insurance company to bitch them out about our stinking coverage and ended up making friends with the lady in Wisconsin and she sent me a nice card!!
    Better yet, Beth should call. She loves you so. As you well know, her life is a real mess.
    I don’t want you to lose your job but you know your own limits and please do what you need to do to get past this. Your well being is the most important thing. So whether you want to handle this yourself or do the tag team effort I say go for it. You might be pleasantly surprised.
    Be strong sweet boy. I wish I could give you a hug. I shouldn’t be writing you. The least little thing sends me in a panic. I have no business giving you any advice. But your desperation tears at my heart. You are in my prayers sweet boy.


  3. I am a call away always. I am here for you my dear friend. I love you and want the best for you. You can have the doctor thing set up by the time you move back technology is a wild thing :). You know you are not alone keep reaching out it is good for you to remember we (your friends and family) are out here rooting for you to succeed not fail. XOXO


  4. Reading your words made me feel not so alone in my own self-imposed isolation. I am extremely sensitive and empathetic to a fault. I can’t handle too much going on around me, noise, lights, smells, hustle, bustle. It’s also made traveling nearly non existent. I’m terrified to travel, and it’s a nightmare for Freedom when I do decide to try to take a trip. I couldn’t even go to my nephew’s funeral (in Florida) a couple years ago. First of all, I couldn’t handle my own grief, let alone my brother and sister-in-law’s. And I couldn’t face seeing my precious 29 yr old nephew, married, father of 2 boys, and one on the way, in a casket.   Not to mention the trip there. I have been “off” since my Mom passed of a massive heart attack 10 years ago. The world became off balance and now I’m off. I haven’t worked since then. Of course, I am a homemaker and try to keep my spirits up with photography and my animals. Even music at times is too stimulating. That’s very hard for me and Freedom. Thinking of you Sam! It takes a lot of courage to put it out there. But I thank you and hope you get the help you need!


    1. I understand, Sam. I do.

      You are welcome at home. We are a whole sea of people who care about you, whose lives you have touched for the better. We are here waiting for you.

      That voice won’t stop, but you can—you must— talk back to it. You can show it all the people who know the world is better cause you’re in it until you believe it again. Keep writing til it all comes out. Playing. Painting. Talking. Know we’re right here.

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