We chase misprinted lies
We face the path of time
And yet I fight, and yet I fight
This battle all alone
No one to cry to
No place to call home

Ooh
Ooh-ooh
Ooh
Ooh-ooh

My gift of self is raped
My privacy is raked
And yet I find, and yet I find
Repeating in my head
If I can’t be my own
I’d feel better dead

You know, Layne Staley was probably battling something much worse than me when he wrote the lyrics to this song. Supposedly this song is Staley in a “nutshell”, his problems with fame, and “modern life”. Well I’m not famous but I sure do have a problem with modern life.

It’s interesting that a guy addicted to heroin making music in the 90’s could write lyrics I relate to now in 2024, as someone who’s never done a hard drug in their life. In a weird way these words describe what it’s like to battle mental illness.

“And yet I fight, and yet I fight, this battle all alone.” I think for Staley his lonely battle was with addiction, for me my lonely battle is with anxiety, panic, depression, whatever you want to call it. No one to cry to, no place to call home. I think the latter part of that is a more recent thing, until 18 months ago(or so) I had someone to cry to and a place to call home.

I’m always thinking about how I don’t enjoy being alone in life because sometimes things get real dark for me, and it’s nice to have someone who lifts that weight a bit. My horoscope today said “Why do you expect other people to complete you?” and while I can’t answer the horoscope, I did think about that question. I think the answer is simple, I don’t feel complete on my own, and I don’t feel like I can complete myself. Now just because I say that doesn’t make it true, but currently as I sit here it’s how I feel.

As far as home goes, I guess where you live doesn’t always feel like home. Home is as much a feeling as it is a place, but currently, I don’t feel like I’m home, and I don’t have a place that does feel that way. I haven’t in almost a year. Before I sold my house it felt like home, until the day I put Presley down, when I went back after the appointment it no longer felt like home, suddenly it just felt like a box to sleep in. I haven’t felt home since that day, the last time I felt like I was home was February 27th, 2023.

Since then I’ve had this overwhelming feeling of unease, it’s almost constant. Some days it comes in waves so heavy I feel stuck, like I can’t move. Even on days when it eases up a bit, it’s still there in the background, haunting me.

This is where I begin to feel like I can’t be my own. These feelings that exist in my head and in my body have been controlling me, controlling how I live. I know what I lost that day can’t be replaced, but how do I get back to a point where I’m still able to live without that thing? Because what I’ve been doing since that day can hardly be considered living. I went almost 3 months without a day off after, and from there I ended up in a spiral of agoraphobia that has more or less kept me in the house for 6 months.

Today I started therapy again, in the hopes that this is the road out. That I can start being my own again. The thoughts of hopelessness and giving up have been overwhelming, they create conflict in my head. I think feeling hopeless and suicidal is a tricky thing for people to understand at times. I don’t want to die let me be clear about that. I don’t want to die at all, in fact, my panic attacks get so bad because it feels like I’m dying causing me to freak out. However, I don’t want to continue living this way, I don’t want to feel the way I do, and I’m not sure what the answer to changing that is, which leads me to the conflicted feelings. I think Staley saying “if I can’t be my own, I’d feel better dead.” is less about his mortality and more about getting to a place where you feel like you are your self, like you’re living for you. Not being judged for how you live, being allowed to be yourself. A life where you can’t be yourself doesn’t seem like a life worth living. I guess maybe Staley and I were in similar nutshells…

Where the skies are gold not gray,

J.