(from Across the Universe)

A friend of mine is going through a rough time right now, and posted the above video on her site. I’ve been thinking about the past 7 weeks and the depression, and how bad it got. I’ve been thinking about all the things that I thought I was depressed about.

I’ve been thinking about the past, and some hard things that I’ve gone through. I’ve been thinking about things I wish I could change, things I wish I never did, things I wish  that I could just forget. I’ve been thinking about hurt, and people, and friendships lost. I’ve been thinking about things that I wish I had known regarding my health, and wishing I had done something earlier in my life to prevent some of the hardships that having a chronic disease comes with. I wish I weren’t so stubborn at the times I could have made changes, to have done so.

I was thinking about how I wish I could shout words of truth from the rooftops. How I wish that justice would come to those who need it, and that reward would come to the good guys, and just punishment to the bad guys. I was thinking about how I lost religion, faith, and a sense that anyone, but me was taking care of destiny, and how that has become strangely empowering. I’ve thought about friends who I often forget to call on. I’ve been thinking about the people that I truly loved, who still walk this Earth, who are no longer a part of my life, because life simply is not fair. I’ve thought a lot about the people I left behind at the church, and how sometimes, despite that I could do nothing else, I feel that I left them, not the other way around. I’ve felt that if I could just tell them the truth of how and why I left their lives, they would love me once again. At the same time, I’ve thought that this truth would destroy something, as it did for me.

I’ve been thinking about people I will never talk to again, people who have passed on, people who taught me so much, people that I wish I could have held onto for a few more seconds. I was thinking about the day my Granny died, and how I held her hand in a hospital, vowing to her that I would do every thing I could not to die the way she had to, from diabetes, and vowing to always watch over my mom. I would like to think that at the very least, I’ve kept one of those promises, and I’m working like hell on the other. I’ve been thinking about my brother who is overseas, who I can’t talk to every day, who I miss terribly, and how we spent so many years not knowing how much we loved being siblings. I’ve been thinking about my husband and all that he goes through having a wife with a chronic disease, how he has never been sure exactly what he will come home to, how scared he must feel when my diabetes is out of control and there doesn’t seem to be any answers. I’ve been thinking that I am fighting harder than ever, because of him, because of how much I love and adore him.

I’ve been thinking about how much we decide who we are. How much power we have in this life. How much we at a moments will can decided to change, every thing. I’ve been thinking about how assuring that feels. I’ve been thinking that up until recently I did not know how strong I was or could be, how I didn’t have to take life sitting down, and waiting for it to happen to me, but I could happen to my life. That at any moment I can make choices and decisions that will positively impact my being on this planet. That I can not rely on other people to do this for me, or other people to validate me, or other people to open doors. I am perfectly capable of kicking doors down if necesary. I’ve been thinking about how when I give myself a moment to rest in it all, a moment to soak it all in, a moment to reflect, that I can see beauty in all that surrounds me. I can see how life is working out, and how it could work out. I can see how each choice I make will have a certain effect on what my future looks like, and the legacy I leave behind. I’ve been thinking that when I have nothing in my way, that I can be unstoppable. I’ve been thinking to let the past be, that all of what I’ve done, my mistakes, my regrets, my losses, all of them have lead me to this exact moment in time, in which I take the reigns and do whatever it is I can to be fully engaged and in charge of this life I have. The past, is just that, and the future is unknown, but I know what I have right now, and what I can do with it. I now know that I don’t have to wait for a sign, or a answer, but those answers are there for me to have and do something with. I no longer have to determine the will of something not there, but only my own, to find my place in this planet, to find a peace with in myself.

And all of those things that keep me awake some nights, all of those things of the past, perhaps the answer is to let them be.

“Time is free, but it’s priceless. You can’t own it, but you can use it. You can’t keep it, but you can spend it. Once you’ve lost it you can never get it back.”

Dancing circles

Originally uploaded by natalamc

It was 5th grade that I came to the realization that I could be considered by many as weird. This realization at first devastated me, as being part of the norm tends to be the safest way to live your pre-pubescent years.
The moment that I realized that I was not like any of my friends, or classmates came to fruition in one very vivid moment in music class. My music teacher was considered to be the coolest teacher, ever. He wore blue jeans and button down shirts to school, and he had long curly, unruly hair that he would sometimes tie back with a rubber band. Every one of my classmates looked forward to his class. We didn’t sing the typical songs, no, instead Mr.Casey had us singing “Proud Mary” as well as songs from Queen, Paula Abdul, and Tina Turner.
For me, this was an introduction into what it meant to be cool. Because, very clearly, I was not cool. All of the songs we would sing were at least somewhat familiar to my classmates, but for me, on the other hand they were completely unfamiliar. My tastes were much, well let’s just say, more refined.
It was one day in class that Mr.Casey went around the room and asked us who our favorite singer was, that all of my awkwardness with my peers would come to make complete sense. Being in 5th grade, I did not think to lie, and copy one of the more popular names going around the room… I could have easily blurted out “Michael Jackson” or “Madonna” but no, instead in my 5th grade brain, I believed that all of my classmates had surely heard of my favorite singer.
Connie Francis.
I said it and remember the raised eyebrow of Mr.Casey and a crooked smile. And him saying, with a chuckle “I think that is my Grandma’s favorite singer too!”
A few laughs followed, and we went on to my other classmates who loved Whitney Houston, Bon Jovi, and Prince.
And I sat there wondering why no one had ever heard of Connie Francis.
It did not occur to me that throw back singers to the 1950’s were not exactly on Z100’s most requested songs. And while my classmates knew every lyric to “Thriller” and “Opposites Attract”, I on the other hand could sing word for word “Lipstick on his collar” and “Everybody’s somebody’s fool”.
I went home that day, looking through my records. Yes, records. I had an old record player, at my Grandma’s house, which was where we were living at the time. I could not understand why Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, and The Dorsey Brothers were not popular with my friends.
And I would soon find out it didn’t just stop there. My favorite movies included “Hello Dolly” (so much so, that I wanted to be Barbra Streisand for Halloween one year), “An American in Paris” and “a Street Car Named Desire” . Not until that day in music class did I think that this might not be what the rest of my friends were watching.
We didn’t have TV, and the only time aside from old movies that I watched anything at all, was watching “Bob Ross” painting videos. My Grandma and I would watch him every day, and we’d paint.. happy little trees.
I wasn’t watching “Alf” or “The Wonder Years”. I was watching Bob Ross paint, and old black and whites, an the occasional musical.
This would remain to be my life through out my pre-teens and my teens, and even followed me into college.
On paper, and with out knowledge that I was a 5th grade girl, one might mistake me for a gay man or a 70 year old woman. But yet, there I was, an 11 year old girl, living in NY, loving the old Italian-American singers, and watching painting videos with my Grandmother. Even when I had the chance to be different, I never really was. There, even through my teens was this realization that all of it made me different.
When I was in middle school, it was the New Kids On The Block who were insanely popular. It was at this time in which I was feeling the biggest need to fit in. Middle School is hell enough, but for someone who could not tell you any of the New Kids names, it was even more so. The biggest question as a middle school girl, was “Who is your favorite New Kid”?” Girls lockers were plastered with pictures, and big hearts around faces, proclaiming their love for one of them. I decided I needed a favorite, and while assisting my friends in writing postcards to a radio station, in order to be in a drawing to have the New Kids come to your school, I looked over at one of girls post cards, and read “Danny”, and that would then be the one I “Liked the most”. This would have been fine, except as it turns out, Danny was the “ugly one” and the one no teenage girl liked. Just my luck. And when people would question this I would tell them that he was “under appreciated” and that he was “mysterious”. This got my strange looks and a few laughs, but seemed to detract attention away from the fact, I HAD NO CLUE who any of them were. And when on my 13th birthday I received a New Kids on the Block pillow case set? I stared at it blankly until my friend, Francesca piped up “Now you can sleep next to all of them every night!!!”. This, made absolutely no sense to me. Why would I want to rest my head on the faces on a boy band?
As I matured, I accepted my weirdness and my lack of knowledge of the popular culture, and thought of myself as unique, and happily pretentious when it came to the what good music and good entertainment truly was.
I lined my bedroom with pictures of dead composers, and records of the “Rat Pack” and “Paolo Conte”. I talked endlessly to elderly people, and spent most of my teen years volunteering in a nursing home, where I could sit down with any of the residents and chat about the good old days, and Jimmy Stewart, and Grace Kelly. I was what they would call me, an “old soul”, and I loved every moment of it. While my friends were roller skating and at the mall, I was listening to Bing Crosby on an old record player, in a nursing home room, with Joe, a 90 year old man with Alzheimer’s, except when it came to Bing, and Connie, that he remembered every detail of.
I once danced to old swing music, with a man in his 90’s named Paul, who once danced with Ginger Rogers. And, I thought this was far more intriguing then getting a chance to catch a glimpse of a pop icon at a rock concert.
And I suppose, that while part of me regrets missing the 80’s, and most of the 90’s, and all of it’s pop culture, the other part of me? It completely loves that I, as a generation X-er grew up in the 40’s and 50’s, and my old soul is forever grateful .

Painting in the sky.

Originally uploaded by natalamc

That relief I spoke of in my last post? It all makes sense now. So, about 6 weeks ago I was put on this medicine. The medicine is for a diabetic condition in my feet. The same medicine is used to treat some forms of epilepsy and severe bi-polar. The same medicine is also under a law suit, and being considered by the FDA to be taken off the market because it causes (in a lot of people) SEVERE depression. As in, a lot of people on this medicine have either committed suicide or have attempted it.

Suffice it to say, when I accidentally did not refill this prescription on Sunday of last week, I did not know I would unlock a lot of why I was feeling so down for the past several weeks. That day I felt relief (the day of my post) I had gone to the pharmacy to refill the prescription and when I looked at the bottle, a NEW warning pops up on the bottle about experiencing worsening feelings of sadness, depression of fear. That would have been much more helpful 6 weeks ago when I started taking it. Turns out, that relief was because I was off the medicine for 4 entire days.

I was so angry about it all yesterday. I try, as much as possible to keep things together, but now that I’m past it, and I know what was going on I can say that the last few weeks were miserable. And particularly the last 2 weeks, when things seemed to be particularly bad. As in I did not want to leave my house, and I would randomly start crying (which if you know me, I NEVER do). I was starting to feel kind of like a shell of myself. And I wasn’t telling many people (except my husband) because I really thought I was going crazy.

Granted, I think that there are certain things that came up in all of this that I should examine and look closely at.. Maybe some of it really does need to be dealt with, maybe I have buried some anger/sadness that I need to cognitively work through.

The Church stuff – I am still angry about. I do not see how I could not be. Yet, I also know there is just not much I can do. The truth will come out, and like most Churches that decided to cover up scandal, I’m guessing it will vanish, and be another on a casualties list of another religious institution gone wrong. But, I’m okay with moving on, and knowing that church, as a part of my life is now far behind me, and not part of who I am, or what makes me, me.

And all of those other things I thought about in the past few weeks – I’m guessing are not as severe as I had felt. Just because I “feel” something does not necessarily mean it is true.

I do know a few things after this.

1. I HATE having diabetes. I would do ANYTHING to not have it. I just ordered a book that talks about an alternative/natural way to cure diabetes. It is hardcore. As in I am not sure if I’ll ever enjoy food again. But I really could care less, because diabetes is not worth the taste of any food. ANY.
I contemplated becoming a diabetes evangelist, I could go door to door and tell people about diabetes, I could hand out little tracks and every thing. I would rid their houses of every thing that increases the risks of diabetes – no corn syrup, diet sodas, cigarettes, cake or white breads and pastas! I would then show them pictures of people with diabetes, young people, old people. And then the bills that come with it.
That is my plea to you. Especially if you have a history of diabetes, if are with any African decent, Hispanic or Italian (all are much more susceptible). If you carry any belly fat (I mean who doesn’t, but particularly if it is in your belly) The fat in the belly causes problems with your pancreas. If you smoke (causes insulin to die and raises blood sugar). And if you are an American – there is something like 3 million people that go un-diagnosed. And I can tell you, that nothing is worth having it.
There is my soap box on diabetes – and now I am stepping off.

2. (I still have a list of things I know now)
I have AWESOME friends that chat with my online. With out knowing that I wasn’t doing so well, 2 of my friends in particular helped me A LOT. And I watched A LOT of TV episodes and was able to zone out and focus on that, instead of the depression.
My friend L even had MAJOR drama in her life (her ex boyfriend being an ASS), and I was able to (I hope) help her through that. I mean, I know she didn’t have drama just to help me out, but if you knew L, you might think that she is just that kind of friend who would do that if you needed it.
And my friend M who one night talked to me for like 5 hours, 5! This was while my husband was in Canada, and M has no idea how much I needed to just talk to someone. I think that some friends, have a 6th sense about these sorts of things. And what makes a friend, not just a friend, but a soul friend. I may not believe in god, but I do believe that I am tremendously lucky to have M in my life now (a new friend of sorts) although it feels as though we have been friends forever.

3. My husband is the WORLDS BEST HUSBAND. My husband sees all of it – the good the bad, the really, really, really bad. And I don’t know what I would do if it wasn’t just okay to cry in a puddle in his arms, for seemingly NO reason, at all. Regardless of how I am feeling he tries to put a smile on my face, and this is how the world should operate. Imagine if our goals in life were to put smiles on other peoples faces?

4. I miss creativity, and starting today, I am going to make efforts to immerse myself in creativity once again.

5. I LOVE to work out. Seriously, I know it might sound ridiculous, but when I go to the gym, I leave feeling amazing. I feel proud of myself, I feel like I am being taken care of, that people really care about how I’m doing, what I’m doing, how I’m feeling. I love the feeling of moving my body and feeling alive. I love for a part of the day, that I don’t feel my weight, I don’t feel that I am obese, I feel like someone who is working hard to become healthy. This is why, I am making a commitment to find time and energy to go to the gym EVERY day. Because there is no medicine that can make me feel that good.

6. Despite how I might have felt for the past 6 weeks – my life is truly wonderful.

Sunny side of life

Originally uploaded by natalamc

Today, was the first time in a long time I felt some relief from the funk I’ve been in. I’m not even sure what brought it on, although I did talk a lot of stuff out, and wrote a lot of stuff out. It’s not just been the past that has been on mind, although that has been a big part of it. And I think in part, because sometimes I’m an optimist to a fault, and thought that somehow by now justice and truth would have prevailed.
But as I was reminded (thanks Matt) sometimes we aren’t going to be there to see the justice part.
Partly, I think I’ve been angry about what it (being the Church/the job) took away from me…relationships, friends, trust, and something in my creative soul.
But this morning, after thinking about it, I decided that, even after all of this I would rather know the truth. The truth has been hard to carry around, but it is the truth. And, when I was there, a part of it, oblivious to the truth, blindly accepting lies of those who were a part of it all, that was misery, I just didn’t know.
I lost a lot, I lost a lot of people I thought cared about me, I lost a lot of what I thought was important to me. But today, I am glad it is all lost, because it was not real, it was all a deception. And as a good friend pointed out to me, because it was all lies, it was never there to be lost. And with it behind me, I can move on, maybe a little more cautiously than I have before, but non the less, move on, and know that I might not be around to see it, but justice and truth will prevail. I guess I’m a sucker for comic books, the ones that end with the bad guy getting caught. Where are the superhero’s when you need them?

In other, and very good news… My husband and I booked a vacation the the Mayan Riveria for our 5 year wedding anniversary. This will be my FIRST time out of the country, and will be our first real vacation since the honeymoon. We’ve refrained from any really big trips, mainly due to my health, but since things are looking better and better on that front, we decided to go for it. Which, could explain why I am starting to feel a lot better today – thinking about relaxing on a beach, reading books…. at a private resort, sounds completely perfect right now… And is only 2 months away.

Curl

Originally uploaded by natalamc

For reasons that I’m not quite sure of, the past few days have been rough for me. I think this might be in part because of a new medication that I am on, but non the less, it’s made me stop and think about a lot of things.

I was thinking about truth, this started in thinking about photography and how I am so quick to run something through my photo editor. The truth of the photo is still there, but perhaps not exactly the way the photo came out. I like to think I only edit the photo, to let the person seeing it look through my eyes at what I might have seen. But sometimes, I enhance it, I saturate the colors, I darken the background, I clean up the spots.

I was wondering how often we do this in our lives. Attempt to make things seem just a little better than they are. Maybe this isn’t always a bad thing, maybe sometimes it even helps. But what happens when you photo shop a little too much of life? You know those pictures that people turn one thing into a completely different thing? Aside from asking myself, “what’s the point?”, I wonder why we do this to photos, and why we do this in life.

We got together with good friends over the weekend, friends who know all of the details about what happened in my last job. We talked about why people (that being us) somehow can find themselves in such a horrible situation, and not be able to tell anyone the truth. I always used to think the truth, no matter what, eventually comes out. That justice wins, every time. But I’m not so sure anymore about that. Maybe it’s our need to try desperately to filter every thing through an editor first. Maybe we just don’t want to see the entire truth. Maybe it’s just that ugly and painful to really think about the truth. The thing I do know, about my photo editor.. .You can always go back. You can always undo the process, and all the edits. You can press the “reset” button, and see it for what it is.

Sometimes, I wish we had that button in life. I wish that we could press re-set and get a second chance. In the case of my previous job, I wish justice would just win, and that the truth would come out, but it’s not my truth to tell, it’s just a truth that has a heavy burden on my soul.
I suppose that I still have a small amount of hope that justice will still win, that truth will still come out, and that the people hiding in the corners of deception would come to understand that the re-set button is there to press.

Light and Dark

Originally uploaded by natalamc

Now I see it all
Perhaps in hindsight
Where the realization comes
I was a part of it
Because I believed in justice
Your institution
Promised love and peace
But returned void
You never gave a damn
Selfish and motivated by corruption
You let it all be.
You protect it all
As if it is sacred
But far from it
It is the furthest from sacred
There in that stone building
Lies, pain, suffering
And you sit idly by
Pretending as if it was not there
There in that stone building
The one with the wooden pews
The one where I was in love with the light
How it came through the stained glass
Deception is beautiful
Among the beams of light
Deception was buried deep
And I played your fool
I went along
I poured out my soul
And it all is void
You left me out in the cold
Closed your doors
Because I knew the truth
You turned your head
Because of what I could do
The scandal consumes you
And the truth will set you free
Yet the truth is beyond your reach
Because deception is the only thing you know.
It is the institution.
It is the way it is supposed to be
Because it’s all running on empty fumes
It’s all running on lies
And in that stone building
It is no different
Lies on top of lies
Deceptions, cover more deceptions
And the sheep sit
In those wooden pews
Being lead to the slaughter.
They bask in the glow of the stained glass light
They sing praises
Eyes closed
If only they knew
What they were closing their eyes to.
Evil has a way of looking beautiful.
In that stone building
They pretend to love
They act the part
They pass peace to one another
And in that building,
There is no such thing
No love
No peace.
Only lies, deceptions, and pain.
Yet they do not know.
They pass to one another with out a thought.
They are like sheep being lead to the slaughter.
They go willingly, with out questions.
They go closing their eyes
With cheer upon their faces.
They fall one by one
Not knowing any better
They fall into the dark pits
And maybe
This institution
This stone building
With it’s light pouring in the stained glass windows
Has been mistaken
For something that it’s not
Maybe this
Stone building
Is hell.

Jay Brannan

Originally uploaded by natalamc

Last night my a few of my friends and I went to a Jay Brannan concert. Jay is an indie-folk artist, a one man show with a gorgeous voice and a lot to say.

I love folk music because it feels as though in one song you know the artist. Each song was a story, a letter, a connection. My husband remarked on the way home that he has a much easier time relating to people who have gone through hard things. We’ve been through a lot of hard things together, things that I’m not sure I’d want to go through again. And when I hear someone who can put their experiences, good, bad, tragic to music, something about that is magical. Something about it brings an element of peace to the world.

I thought about this during the concert last night, and what I would do with my stories and music, how I could bring peace to the unresolved things of my life by adding a melody.

I’ve been really wrestling with my creativity (as mentioned in the last post). A friend of mine today told me I seemed to have experienced some “post traumatic stress” with the whole church scandal fiasco. I told her with my creativity, it almost feels sensual, in that I am vulnerable and exposed. I have felt for a long time that I gave my creativity away to the wrong person (this being the church and place I worked). Like a bad relationship, they used me, hurt me, and had no need for me. And I was left, with my heart on my sleeve, exposed, with nothing left. And like a bad relationship there was never an apology, or a thank you, or a “I’m sorry it didn’t work out”. There was just silence. As if I never happened. As if for that period of time meant nothing to the other person in the relationship. I think at the bottom of this, that is the thing that hurts the most, and why when I pick up my violin, or a pen, or a book, or a brush, is that I feel as though I was just not good enough. I know, logically that this is not the truth. But I can’t seem to get over it, or give that creativity to anyone else, because I’m so afraid of giving it away for nothing, and for someone who just really doesn’t give a damn about me again.
And like any bad relationship, where the other person did all the hurting, and the cheating, I need to realize that they were not worth it, and they weren’t worth taking anything from me at all. Why do I need to be in pain for the mistakes that were very much not mine? And why have I let them/it take much more from me than they were worth? The whole thing was like finding out the person you loved was not the person you thought, at all. Part of me blames myself for that, that I did not see all the horrific things that were going on, that I turned a blind eye to most of it, that I thought the better of some very evil people. And yet now, I sit thinking about what it would sound like as a song. A song that just closed the entire thing and let me move on to better things, and someone who is much more deserving of who I am.

Thanks Jay… your music opened up a part of my heart last night.

In focus.

Originally uploaded by natalamc

It’s been a while since I’ve had the urge to write anything. In fact, when it comes to certain kinds of creativity, I haven’t had much ambition at all. Photography has been my outlet, and my therapy for months now. Before photography, I was in love with playing my violin, writing, reading, art, creating various things. I worked in a job that used all of the creative things I loved, I worked really hard at the job. I could go into all of it – but let’s just say it all fell apart – in a huge, horrible kind of way. People who I thought were friends, no longer were. People who I though I could trust, were the most horrible people I’ve ever met, and I didn’t know the extent of it till after I left the place. Every thing was shaken up for me. Unfortunately I worked for a church, and like most of them, it was corrupt and filled with really bad stuff that was being – is still being covered up. It’s sick. But somehow my creative self, it has had a really hard time jumping into anything creative (outside of photography) since then. Every time I pick up the violin, or a book, or a pen, or art supplies, I think of all I wasted being in that place, and how it used me. I’ve been really trying to get back to all of it, really trying to just separate it all out. But in the meantime, I am so glad for photography and what it has done for me. How it has provided a creative outlet for me to dive into, that has no negative feelings, no bad vibes, no terrible people attached to it.
When I focus on taking a photo, the rest of the world seems to fade, and all I am left with is the beauty before me.

Mystery

Originally uploaded by natalamc

Years ago my Dad found this violin case among my Grandfathers belongings. Inside was this violin. Completely useless as a violin anymore. And was called by a violin maker “good for a flower pot”. My Grandfather was not a violinist, and yet here is what looks like at one time would have been a great violin. The only salvageable part, a chin rest, with an Italian village etched into it (which I use).
Playing the violin, I know that anyone who cares about playing developes a real love for their instrument, it becomes part of your body. It becomes like a person, it’s own separate personality. When I look at this violin, I can’t help but wonder who played it, what was played on that fingerboard and why it was tucked away in a closet, kept, though completely useless and broken.
I see a lot of beauty in it, a tremendous beauty, because all things, even though useless to many and broken have stories, and they are in themselves, beautiful.

Love Thursday

Originally uploaded by natalamc

Yesterday was a really hard day. Like one of those days in which so many tears are shed you are pretty sure that it is impossible to shed anymore.
I was grasping onto things to find hope and love in and was reminded of the past week and Jen’s journey and Odette, and meeting this woman filled with smiles, despite adversity in the absolute worst forms.
Sometimes finding love and hope is hard, and we have to just wait for it. Maybe it will come out of nowhere and be dangling above us just waiting for us to grab hold of it.