Erin is the writer of Daisies and Bruises, a blog about "finding her way one step and one word at a time. After losing most of her youth to severe depression, she decided that since death was no longer an option, she had to find a way to live. This is it."
This time Friday morning I was bawling. I’d decided to try writing morning pages, after picking up Julia Cameron’s legendary book, The Artist’s Way. In short, free writing three pages every morning is supposed to clear your mind of your self-criticism and open your mind to its creative channels.
So I did that yesterday, and somehow all the positive feelings I’d experienced the day before – my birthday – melted away and I found myself crying, wondering why I always seem to end up feeling like life is trying to keep me cold and alone, punished for my pain.
Fortunately, I had an appointment with my therapist at 1pm yesterday but even after talking to her for over an hour I still felt terrible. I actually felt worse than I had before I went. I was so anxious on my walk home that I took one of my ‘emergency’ prn-medication pills to calm myself down. (As a side note, my psychiatrist would be happy to hear that I actually took that medication because I tend to avoid using it. It makes me sleepy and slow-witted)
Back at my apartment, I laid on the couch and decided to text my friends at mindyourmind to tell them that I couldn’t attend that night’s interview with George Stroumboulopoulos. I felt too broken, too fucked-up and too tired to pretend that everything was okay. Before I could message them, however, I remembered how excited I was the night before when I learned that I could tag along to the interview. I’d jumped around the apartment, scaring the crap out of my dog, doing this giddy little dance.
Anyone who knows me knows that I don’t swoon over celebrities and I refuse to follow tabloids or watch reality tv. The only famous person I’ve ever been super excited to meet was Joyce Carol Oates. But George Stroumboulopoulos is someone I have a huge amount of respect for. He’s a Canadian icon (and self-confessed boyfriend to all his fans) who interviews celebrities, politicians, writers, and newsmakers, by being a great listener and asking the questions that need to be asked.
So, right before I canceled my plans to stay home and cry, I thought to myself, JUST FUCKING GO. Yes, I still felt a bit loopy from my medication, yes I’d been crying all day, and yes, it was way too cold out, but I had nothing to lose. I wasn’t even going to be part of the interview, I was just going to watch. What’s the worst that could happen? I knew it was the chance of a lifetime, and I did have a story I wanted to tell George. With enough makeup I hid my puffy eyes and made my way out of the house in time to catch the latest bus to take me to mindyourmind.
Getting out of my apartment and having a place to be by a certain time got me out of my funk. By the time I arrived at the mindyourmind office to grab a ride to the night’s venue, Fanshawe College, my sadness was starting to melt. Then I got a lovely surprise when Heather at mindyourmind introduced me to Deana, a street team volunteer that is a fan of my blog. She wanted to meet me when she heard I’d be coming in! My first fan I got to meet in real life! That alone totally made my day.
I met up with the two other women doing the interview with me, Diana and Oline. We piled into Diana’s car and headed to meet up with George.
- TO BE CONTINUED!
- by Erin