Brandi Carlile-Happy

I don’t hang around that place no more
I’m tired of wearing circles in the floor
And I don’t carry myself very well
I’ve gotten so much braver
Can you tell

I’m happy
Can’t you see
I’m alright
But I miss you Amber Lee

And I line my secrets up all one by one
I put ‘em all away when I was done
And I would really love to hear your voice sometime
To close a little distance in my mind

I’m happy
Can’t you see
I’m alright
But I miss you Amber Lee
Amber Lee

Where have you been all these years
And how could you just disappear
And when did you stop
Missing me

I’m happy
Can’t you see
I’m alright
But I miss you Amber Lee

I’m alright
But I miss you Amber Lee

Gone kitty gone…and some other sad things

Bailey has left. My only hope is that he hasn’t left for good. Signs have been made and put up in opportune areas of Queen Anne. I have posted an ad on Craigslist (idea courtesy of my Aimee…why did I not think of that?). I’m currently storming my brain for other websites to post it on just in case. I offered $50 because that’s pretty much what I can afford to offer. Poor bay. I miss him horribly. He has always come back before so the only thing I can think of as to why he hasn’t this time is that someone took him in thinking he was stray. I have promised myself that if I get him back I am putting a collar on him so tight that he will never get it off (but still be able to breathe of course).

Taking Steps Back

Sometimes things happen way too fast and way too soon. And sometimes on top of that there are someone else’s issues that cause too much distress, even though they remain someone else’s issues. Issues like divorce and children and pain and upset and wanting to support and be there but at the same time knowing that it’s not fair to me that I go through that with someone too, even when they’re not intending for me to go through it with them. Sometimes I can think that I’m stronger than I am, or that I’m immune to things when I’m really not.  I’m also not immune to feeling as if I’m giving to someone who needs more than I do out of something, and then seeing on the horizon that I might resent it at some point.

Is it possible that some people just aren’t built for relationships in the traditional way that they are defined?

My mother used to tell me she worried that she had raised me to be “too independent” (clearly giving the word independent a negative connotation). I used to believe that wasn’t possible. How could independant be negative? Probably, independent is not necessarily negative…maybe in the context of some relationships it might be however.

I suppose that when these personality traits are combined with a situation where everything moves too fast, too soon, and their circumstantial issues seem too overwhelming, that it would only be a matter of time until I would pull back.

Maybe it’s just time that’s needed. Maybe not. Maybe I have it all wrong. I don’t know.

My friend Jill, bless her soul

Over the past weekend participated in the Out of The Darkness Walk to raise money for suicide prevention. I regret not joining her but I was to have had other plans this weekend that actually didn’t happen at the last minute. I didn’t even think for a second that I could have met her on the way and walked with her a bit. Next time…that is if I’m not walking myself. Here’s what she had to say:

Breaking our Junuary streak of cold weather, the overnight walk on June 21st and 22nd had the best weather possible for an overnight walk, and the rainstorm they predicted, never arrived.  Between the Overnight in Seattle and NYC, the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention has raised more than $1.7 million, enough money to fund many prevention and awareness and support services for survivors.  They are even opening a chapter in Puget Sound.

I walked with at least 1,000 other walkers all around Seattle on a picturesque day. Jean, Margie, and Leslie (Jen’s family members) joined me for opening ceremonies, which left barely a dry eye at the Mural Amphitheatre at the Seattle Center as a woman told a story of losing her son and then her brother. (One of the things I’ve learned about suicide, is that it has the opposite effect you would think it would.  Instead of dissuading you from committing suicide if you are thinking about it as you see the way it hurts all of the loved ones who survived you, there is something about a completed suicide that makes a person who was seriously thinking about it more likely to complete a suicide.  The theory is that it makes something that seemed impossible no longer impossible).

  We started out going down second in Belltown, then we went down to the Piers (near the aquarium).  Margie, Jean and Leslie cheered me on from this location.  Then went through the Sculpture Garden, and passed a small rose garden I had never seen before. We crossed the bridge, walked up Elliot for a while and then walked along Westlake to Freemont. 

During this trek I had one of many conversations with other walkers.  This one was particularly poignant for me because she was also walking because she had lost her best friend.   It was nice to share that bonding moment over the loss of the people you love.  She also mentioned that in six years it’s been since she lost her friend, she has noticed a remarkable change in our society’s willingness to talk about suicide, which will hopefully mean that more people will be able to seek out and find support when they most need it. 

In Freemont, Nancy joined me and kept me company for a couple miles.  Colleen and Shannon also met me in Freemont for a little love and support, and a T-Shirt.  Not that I was cold, but backpack strap was cutting my arm and the t-shirt was my protection.  We  walked down the Burke-Gillman Trail to Husky Stadium, where Jean and Margie joined me for a little rest and a midnight snack.  This is also where I learned that the walk was going to be 2.5 miles shorter than expected, something I was perfectly fine with.  After the midnight snack, I found Eve, a co-worker from my other life at BB&L.  Eve lost her brother to suicide in August.   Eve, her sister and a co-worker of Eve’s walked the remaining 5.5 miles together talking about the people we miss and the impact their deaths have had on our lives. 

I arrived back at the Seattle Center at about 2:30 AM with all the bags people had made illuminating our path.  Instead of lingering for three hours for the opening ceremony, Jean Margie and I got together for a late night snack, remembering that Seattle is a small city, because very little is open past 3:00 AM.  But after a trip to Capital Hill and learning that the Broadway Grill is no longer open till 4:00, we headed to Hurricane which is open 24 hours.  We lingered talking about Jen, doing what is irresistible after the loss of someone to suicide, revisiting the details of her life we knew about, trying to understand why someone as amazing as Jen could ever take her own life.   The reality is that for those of us who don’t suffer from depression or other mental illnesses, I don’t think we will ever be able to understand the depths of despair that can cause someone to take such a fatal step.  But what we do know is that Jen was an amazing person, daughter, and to me a model of what a good friend is that I will hope to emulate.  She was reliable, dependable, compassionate, and fabulously sarcastic (in the good, don’t take yourself or life too seriously sort of way).   

Speaking of fabulous friends and support, thank you.  Thank you to all of you who gave money, your quick and excessive generosity made it so I did not have to worry for a moment about meeting the minimum amount.  Together we raised more than $1,600 in Jen’s name.  Thank you also for your love and support and last minute tips.  I learned that suicide has unfortunately touched the lives of more of my friends than I realized.  A special thanks to Karen Clevering, my marathon running, triathlon competing rockstar friend, on Friday before the walk we were studying for that stupid bar exam, and took an especially fortuitous study break where she answered all the questions I didn’t even realize I had.  With some spaghetti and other carbs, and being pre-hydrated, the only discomfort I have from the walk is my feet are a little sore, my right hip hurts (and yes I do feel like I’m seventy by complaining about my hip), and I have a little cut on my right arm from my backpack strap.  All-in-all I’d say I feel pretty darn good.  
 

           Since part of the purpose of the fundraiser is about awareness raising, I’m closing with some statistics from the AFSP about suicide.  Here’s to hoping that the awareness campaign and support services work, so that if you, or a loved one is ever thinking about suicide that you will be able to reach out and get support and as they walk say, Walk Out of the Darkness.

 

Much love,

Jill

P.S. Sorry for a mass email instead of letters but I don’t have most people’s physical address, I have to get back to studying for the bar as I have three practice tests tomorrow, and, there were several amazing generous anonymous donations, so this may be the only way I can thank them for their support.

 P.P.S. Jean - I hope you’ll forward this to all your family and friends who donated. 

 

General

  • Over 32,000 people in the United States die by suicide every year.
  • In 2005 (latest available data), there were 32,637 reported suicide deaths.
  • Suicide is fourth leading cause of death for adults between the ages of 18 and 65 years in the U.S., with approximately 26,500 suicides.
  • Currently, suicide is the 11th leading cause of death in the United States.
  • A person dies by suicide about every 16 minutes in the United States. An attempt is estimated to be made once every minute.
  • Ninety percent of all people who die by suicide have a diagnosable psychiatric disorder at the time of their death.
  • There are four male suicides for every female suicide, but twice as many females as males attempt suicide.
  • Every day, approximately 80 Americans take their own life, and 1,500 more attempt to do so.

Depression

  • Over 60 percent of all people who die by suicide suffer from major depression. If one includes alcoholics who are depressed, this figure rises to over 75 percent.
  • Depression affects nearly 10 percent of Americans ages 18 and over in a given year, or more than 19 million people.
  • More Americans suffer from depression than coronary heart disease (12 million), cancer (10 million) and HIV/AIDS (1 million).
  • About 15 percent of the population will suffer from clinical depression at some time during their lifetime. Thirty percent of all clinically depressed patients attempt suicide; half of them ultimately die by suicide.
  • Depression is among the most treatable of psychiatric illnesses. Between 80 percent and 90 percent of people with depression respond positively to treatment, and almost all patients gain some relief from their symptoms. But first, depression has to be recognized.

Studies indicate that the best way to prevent suicide is through the early recognition and treatment of depression and other psychiatric illnesses.

 

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I used to write poems

I’m not saying they were all that great. I’m just saying that I used to write them, which is something. It is something because writing begets more writing. If it’s silly and meaningless at first it still has a purpose because it leads to other things that are much more great. I found this during my project of importing my livejournal entries into my wordpress.

i wanted you to hit me again to finish what you started.

i wanted you to hit me until whatever it was that allowed me to love you fell out onto the floor for both of us to see

for me to see so i might see it for how ugly it was so i couldn’t hide it deep in my bones anymore.

when i first laid eyes on you i thought i saw the potential for beauty in your face in puppy dog eyes like waking in the middle of the night because my body wants to know you’re next to me

like take out and rented movies and shutting the whole world out because you would be bigger than the world.

i wanted to love you like it was my religion.

i wanted you to hit until all the control that i took into my veins let me loose in exponential measures of time so that i was free to think

free from my own cage free to name my own emotions.

i wanted you to hit me until i couldn’t see your face anymore that used to be pretty.

i wanted you to hit me until the hurt turned into a wild fury that i couldn’t reign in

until i was so blind with rage that i hit you back to take that righteousness away from you like hitting you back for all the tyranny i accepted for all the terror you sold me like a drug,

like hitting you back in this moment for all the times my Mother never had the strength to hit back. like realizing the strength she gave me from womb to fist like getting physical payback from hand to mind, as if she knew someday i would stare you down like that.

i wanted tangible gifts to take with me for every time my body would tense in answer to the question of someone’s anger of someone’s tight face of moving too quickly too closely.

i wanted restitution for a skewed sense of balance

for not knowing anymore who to fear or who to embrace, for avoiding the wrong things for wanting the wrong things

like a man i met on the street once who said “you ain’t afraid of a black man from arizona?”

“no”, i said.

what i didn’t tell him was that i know where true danger lies because i fear a man that put the name love on his hatred and delivered his kiss through an open hand.

i fear my own sickness worse yet that lets me love him still.

Keep in mind that at the time that I wrote it I was listening to a lot of spoken word and was also a bit more young (and therefore a bit more ‘dramatic’).

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