Car in the Garage

Sometimes it's hard to be completely honest and somethings are just easier than others to admit.   Even as I've poured the darkest parts of my heart into words, there's been deeper darkness still.  I think that hidden depth of despair is what I hold back. 

Surely if anyone knew the deepest darkness, they'd lock me away and throw away the key.  As hard as it might be, I'm going to share a part of that.

I had a moment of insane grief.  When doesn't matter, but I turned the radio on just before pulling the car into the garage.  Christian music was playing.

I instantly began thinking about how much I had once loved music and loved singing.  Music was one of my few momentary escapes as a child.  Music was where I developed enough confidence to get through high school.

As a child, I memorized happy songs that I sung to myself mentally as terrible things were happening to me.  Chaos and pain were replaced at crucial moments as I sang to myself louder than everything around me. 

During high school, a music teacher caught me singing to myself in a foyer when I thought nobody was listening.  I was naturally soft spoken and kept to myself.  Most people probably never heard a word from me.  The teacher said singing was my voice and he said I had the "voice of an angel."  It was his confidence in me which raised my own confidence.  From there I sang in the school choir and even sang in front of crowds.  In fact, I sang every chance I got. 

With somewhat of a dashed confidence, I joined the church choir at the same time I joined the church.  I faithfully made practices and happily sang on Sunday mornings for almost two years.  But the whole time, my confidence and joy in singing was gradually being sucked away from me.

As time went on, each week became a struggle for me.  The person sitting next to me was overly critical of my singing.  I didn't sing loud enough.  I didn't hit the right notes.  One thing after another, she criticized me.  She wore me down and broke me until I finally had to quit. 

I've not really let anyone hear me sing since then either.  In fact, the moment I open my mouth to sing along with music on the radio it's a fight to not hear her criticisms playing on repeat in my head.

I'm still not sure why she was so critical of me or why she went all out to suck the joy of singing away from me.  She scared me away from the one place in the church where I wanted to be.

Singing made me happy, helped me cope, connected me to the church.  I don't have that now and I think it adds to the darkness.  That's a lot to lose.  I grieve that loss and know that I can't recover from it.

The stolen joy, the overwhelming grief...that was all I could think about when I pulled my car in the garage and shut the door.  The music was louder than the engine and my pain was greater than any sense of what I was doing. 

I'm not sure how long I sat there, but it was obviously not long enough to do any permanent damage or I wouldn't be writing this now. 

I have been told I am going through a major depressive episode.  Yes, it would seem as though I am.