Knocked Out No Longer

Back Again

August 27, 2015May 15, 2017by KimLeave a Comment

I’m moving soon. I realize I’ve declared an intention of moving before and not followed through with it, but this is a move that is 100% for me and nobody else. It’s a move to reflect the changing of life seasons, a move of growth, and a move of necessity.

In 2006, I visited Fayetteville, Arkansas for the first time on a campus tour during Thanksgiving break. I think I fell in love with the town just in the drive up there. There are all sorts of winding road for the last hour of the drive, and during that time of year, all the hills are covered in red, orange, and yellow trees. For a girl who had been stuck in Texas for five years, the idea of living somewhere where seasons existed was a dream. The University of Arkansas was the only school I even applied to when it came to college, mostly because I’ve got a major stubborn streak and was determined to only go there for school.

Fayetteville was a town I chose just for me. It’s the town where I first began to come into my own. I experienced so many firsts, both good and bad, but every first is interwoven with growth. I think there are some places that are somehow tailored to fit a person’s personality, and Fayetteville is one of those towns for me.

After my divorce, I moved back to Texas for a month before spending most of 2014 in Germany. I remember crying as I drove away from Fayetteville, not because of the divorce or some of the broken relationships tied into that, but because I was leaving a place that truly felt like home. I’ve visited a few times since then, and that strange combination of peace and excitement washes over me during every drive up there.

I’ve now been back in Tyler for ten long months. Ten months of adjusting. Ten months of struggle. Ten months of fighting that depression-monster again. However, it’s also been ten months of learning who I am. Ten months of finding what truly makes me heart happy. Ten months of growing into the person I want to be. It’s been a strange ten months, but I think that it’s a chapter in my life that needs to end as soon as possible. It’s necessary for the growth of the character, but you struggle through every word.

I’m taking control of my story. In just about two months, I’ll be moving back to Fayetteville. This week, I started back to school in the form of one online class, and in the spring, I’ll be back to going to school full time. It’s going to be a struggle. I’ve never been very good with going to class or studying or even really staying disciplined enough to complete many things, but I’ve got a long-term goal this time. I got accepted into the English department, studying a combination of creative writing and journalism, which is a perfect fit for me. Hopefully I’ll be able to translate that degree into a job in the editing/writing/publishing industry back in Frankfurt in a couple years.

To say I’m nervous would be an understatement. I’m scared of so many things. I’m scared that I won’t do as well in my classes as I hope. I’m worried that school will wear on my psyche again. More than anything, I’m terrified that the depression that has been consistently lurking in the semi-shadows these past few months will step out and try to take over my life again. However, I think that this is the best time in my life to do this, to take these chances. I’ve got nothing tying me down, no reason to keep me where I am. In any case, moving back to Fayetteville is a temporary step in the grand process of moving back to Germany. And anything that can allow me to live in Germany for more of a full-time experience has to be worth the effort.

Old Main at the University of Arkansas, Fayetteville, Arkansas - May 2015 — Old Main at the University of Arkansas, Fayetteville, Arkansas – May 2015

Relationships

Only One Love Song

August 14, 2015May 15, 2017by KimLeave a Comment

I’ve been lucky enough to see Damien Rice live..twice.

The first time I saw him was in October of last year. It was the second-to-last stop on the US leg of his first tour in nine years. It was such a big deal that a friend and I flew to Brooklyn 14 hours after I flew back to the states after my stint in Germany. It was an incredible trip and an even more incredible show (Glen Hansard even made a special appearance!). I had always known he was talented, always known that he was a very special musician, and seeing him live solidified that knowledge.

In October, I was still blissfully happy in a long-distance relationship that had started several months previously. We had reconnected after over a decade of not living in the same city, him being in Alaska and my home changing multiple times. Hours and hours of skype were part of every week, and my twenty-fifth birthday was spent in Anchorage with him. It was a relationship different than any I had ever experienced before. The communication was unreal. I grew to understand and know him better than almost anybody I’ve ever known. So at this concert, surrounded by songs that I thought were all about love, I thought they resonated with me.

The relationship ended about a month later for a multitude of reasons, and I think I’m just now finally able to look back on everything with a sense of thankfulness for the good moments that did happen. Of course, there are still twinges of loss, but overall, I’m glad everything happened the way it did. Since then, any sort of romantic life I might have had has been in a very strange place. I don’t mean for all of my posts lately to be about relationships and romance, but for someone who’s spent the majority of her last nine years (excluding this past year) in a relationship, the mental adjusting to single-hood is a difficult one.

Back on Damien-topic. The second time I got to see him was two days ago. I’m still on a concert high. Not only was I in a different emotional place, his raw emotion and connection to his songs was much more evident this time around. It was otherworldly. I brought a friend with me, and she and I sat in our chair in the second row enraptured the entire time. It was one of those shows where you just watch in awe of the artist on the stage. I’m fairly certain we both had slightly teary eyes the whole way through, and there were moments that his lyrics hit me and brought back memories from the past few years in vivid color. Memories of not feeling loved, memories of loneliness, betrayal, anger, sadness, but also memories of hope and learning to figure out what I want from life.

If you aren’t familiar with his back story, Rice had a very tumultuous relationship with someone that used to play with him. It was a very passionate relationship, but major ups and downs came with the passion. Many of his songs are about that relationship, and most of them are not favorable. At one point in the show, he started talking about how he was asked about all of the love songs he had written. He mentioned that he went through the songs he wrote and noted that there was only one song really about love: “I Don’t Want To Change You“. The lyrics are a complete surrender, a total giving up of the selfishness many people tend to bring to the table in relationships without realizing it.

In this past year, I’ve learned to really appreciate lyrics more than ever before. Being able to hear the background stories of some of his songs and seeing the different emotions tied into each song was key to bringing those lyrics even more to life. I feel like I’ve grown into a completely different person than even who I was a year ago. I’m constantly working on letting go of the cynical bitterness I feel like I’ve been using as a shield to protect myself from getting hurt and getting back to a place where I can unselfishly love people no matter how they might have treated me in the past. I’ve particularly been struggling with that the past month or two. These songs, this show, this phenomenal musician..they were a perfectly timed reminder to get back to the goal of forgiveness and love that I set for myself months ago.

Damien Rice at the South Side Ballroom, Dallas, TX - August 201 — Damien Rice at the South Side Ballroom, Dallas, TX – August 2015

listening to: Damien Rice

Reflections

Goodbye, 25.

August 8, 2015May 15, 2017by KimLeave a Comment

Goodbye to insecurities.

Hello to recognizing the good in you.

Goodbye to feeling inadequate.

Hello to cultivating strengths.

Goodbye to dreading singlehood.

Hello to embracing a life wholly yours.

Goodbye to that gut-wrenching sense of heartbreak.

Hello to knowing it was meant to be for the moment, nothing more.

Goodbye to resentment and anger.

Hello to a renewed sense of patience and an attempt at better understanding.

Goodbye to misplaced trust.

Hello to learning to separate vulnerability in writing and vulnerability in everyday life.

Goodbye to a stormy past.

Hello to an unknown future full of chances.

Goodbye, 25. You’ve been a wild ride.

Hello, 26. We’ve got adventures ahead of us.

mental health

Weakness or Strength

August 7, 2015May 15, 2017by KimLeave a Comment

I’ve been starting a lot of posts lately without finishing them. One of the main themes I’ve been trying to figure out how to begin addressing again is depression. Mostly, my depression and how there can be periods of breakthrough, relief, and healing, but it isn’t something I believe I’ll completely be over.

I used to think that depression was something that made a person weak. I was so determined to appear strong, to appear like I had my life together, that I refused to accept that depression might be the cause of my panic attacks, sobbing at the slightest provocation, and the general emptiness I felt in life. This went on for years. It’s only after I finally faced the fact that I was living with depression did I realize that being willing to admit that and begin the journey toward a fulfilling life again was something that made a person strong. So strong. Stronger than anyone can realize without being in that same position.

I think the most frustrating thing about living with depression as a constant ghost is facing the fact that it can come back with a vengeance. This is where I’ve been the past few months. There have been glimmers of hope, moments of knowing that being in this depressive state isn’t a permanent curse. I am always so hard on myself. I expect so much more. I hold myself to the standard that I should only struggle with a certain issue once in life before growing and becoming better. But I’ve found myself retreating into my shell and feeling angry, worthless, and empty again.

I’ve caught myself thinking “You’re so much better than this. Stop being that weak excuse of a human. Stop wallowing. Stop being worthless. Stop.” The thoughts come much more often that I’m willing to count. I’ve viewed it as a weakness.

However, I’ve realized that this is an incredible double standard. Reflecting over conversations I’ve had with a couple close friends who truly understand the feeling of hopelessness that comes with true depression, I’ve marveled over how strong they are. How impressed I’ve been that they have felt the same way that I have, and continue to fight every day for the side of hope and healing. How extraordinary they are as humans. It’s made me wonder why I can see their bravery and strength, but only my shortcomings.

This fall into the pit of depression has been different than previous ones. I think it’s mostly been brought on by the fact that I am nowhere where I want to be in terms of my career, geographical location, or physical appearance. However, I’ve been trying to remind myself that I’ve made so much progress in the past few years. I’ve come so far. My depression doesn’t make me weak.

Living in spite of my depression makes me strong.

Frankfurt HBF, Frankfurt, Germany - September 2014 — Frankfurt HBF, Frankfurt, Germany – September 2014

listening to: Florence + The Machine

Reflections

To the Could-Have-Been..

August 6, 2015May 15, 2017by Kim1 Comment

As mentioned a few days ago, I’ve started the second round of a writing course that’s already proven to be transformative in my life. Many posts I wrote several months ago were inspired by the last round I participated in (here, here, and here), and I’m so excited to see how much this round changes and grows my writing.

There’s been one prompt that has really struck a chord with me so far. In life, there are many moments that you can look back on and realize that the decision made at the time had the power to completely change the course of your life. I was encouraged to write a letter to a person that I could have been by now, or that I think I should have been. The idea is to dig deep and really grow to appreciate the person that you are now and celebrate the decisions that you’ve made to lead you to your current state.

This seems to be a pretty regular theme with my writing, but I’ve been pondering what my life would have been if I had stayed in Arkansas, if I had stayed married, if I had never decided to do a 180° turn in my life. I don’t have to think about it much at all to know that I made the right decision, but sometimes I wonder if it would have been easier on the surface if I had stayed in that life. When I saw this prompt, it was the opportunity I needed to reaffirm my decisions on the major life changes I’ve made in the past two years.

To the could-have-been,

Thank goodness you aren’t the should-have-been. Every day, I’m glad more and more that your existence ended on a dreary October day in 2013.

You gave up easily. Outside forces fought to keep you living, but if you would have stayed, it would have been the type of life only sustained by life support, constantly pumped full of drugs to keep the heart beating. Thank you for fighting to get free from that half-life.

On the outside, you had it all: a husband, a new house, a puppy…by now, you’d probably have a child too. Under the surface, the person who was fighting to be free- the person who has transformed and turned into the person penning this letter- that person knew it was wrong, that you were heading to a destiny all wrong.

Looking at the surface of my life now, it might seem like more struggles. I’m constantly fighting debt, I am stuck living with my parents, and I have to rely on the generosity of others for transportation. That all may sound a little overwhelming, which it can be at times, but it’s well worth it to be free. Free from the constant drowning feeling I only now understand as the deepest levels of depression. Free from a shallow life focused on trying to achieve happiness through material junk. And most importantly, free from a relationship that should have been a supportive partnership, but instead was an oppressive that stripped me (you, us?) from the excitement that a life full of growth can provide.

So, you tragic could-have-been, I’m more that just happy that you dissolved from reality that day. If you had continued to exist for much longer, I’m not sure you or I would be here today.

listening to: Florence + The Machine

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