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Writer's pictureDru Morrison

My dear friend.

I can't begin to tell you why I'm doing it like this. For some reason, I feel that there's a weight to this gesture; a post that is open for anyone to read, but that can really be understood by me and you. It's a kind of secret that everyone knows about, which I think is often exactly what anxiety, depression and all emotions are; they're secrets. We can tell each other that we're happy or sad, but only we know how that feels. With that being said, do not for a second undermine what it means to speak of one's emotions. Yes, only I can feel these things, but when we put them into words, we are not making others feel what we feel. Sharing our emotions with others achieves something else; trust, or the exposure of oneself to another that is based on comfort, self-awareness, and love.


What I just witnessed was far braver than you will ever give yourself credit for. Don't dwell on this fact and make it another part of your quiver, another arrow for your mind to deploy when the habits of your unconscious reveals itself and poses a rhetorical question that will always be answered with stilted breathing, body pains and increased heart-rates. But I don't want to analyze you right now, or give you advice. So what can I do except go through what I've just seen through my own means, my own histories, my own reactions and how I've come to cope and understand with the things you are dealing with.

Where can I possibly start other than how little I feel next to you? Each and everyone of us have a model of perfection. Often times, when things got off the rails and my mind begins to eat itself, I wished that I were you. But, what we often do is forget the caveat's of this thinking. Firstly, there's nothing wrong with this thinking and, I believe, it's one of the fundamental things that makes us humans. We can objectify ourselves to a point where we can create ourselves using images of others. We can experiment with ourselves in our minds. We can create scenarios and come to conclusions using others as templates. This can help us achieve great things. It's a wonderful phenomenon, but it can also lead to very strange, often emotionally overwhelming places. As much as we can objectify ourselves to achieve something, we can similarly objectify ourselves as a place for judgement, over-analysis and hatred.


After a wonderful night of singing and dancing, I remember grabbing your sweaty head in the backstage. You were surrounded by people all wanting you at that moment, but it was me and you, and I remember coming close to you. I recall our foreheads touching and I said "Don't you ever tell me that you never achieved anything." I remember you smiling back, but the smile had layers to it.

I wonder know if I should of said such a thing considering how it's things like that that might contribute to a certain train of thought; one of shame and guilt. I can see it circling your head right now, "Why am I still so unhappy when I've achieved so much?" and "I'm not allowed to be like this considering where I am and what I've done." I know how badly you wanted children and I suspect that you thought, on occasion, that everything would just be better, you would have a purpose, if you had a child to take care of. I also suspect that after realizing this wasn't the case, you sunk deeper and deeper.


This is my biggest fear. I far too often think about this. I think about everything I want to achieve and as things start getting exciting as I plan my way to where I want to be, the voice comes, telling me that "you still won't be happy". If only I could focus on the process, the small moments leading up, with patience, acceptance and compassion. I want these things so bad I become impatient, and judge myself as being indecisive, not talented enough, unassertive. And then I think that it wouldn't matter either way. It won't make me happy in the end. I've dug another hole for myself to climb out of. But the hole's have been getting increasingly shallow with every trip back up. I watch my breath. Things refocus.


You let me into something here and it's been so long since we've had a face-to-face. I don't want to Skype. I want you, us, in front of each other. I want to meet your kids for the first time. I nearly cried when you picked up your child for the camera.


The conversation with the mother in this video was devastating, in a good way. I've had many a conversation like this with my mom. They never get easier in terms of what they reveal, but they've gotten easier to begin.


I've yet to respond to your message since you sent me the video and am getting worried that your mind might be going off to places I wish it wouldn't. So I'll end it here.


I love you, and want to say thank you to the people helping you, and to the people who gave you the strength and opportunity to speak like this. The people behind this video have given me something so precious; you, your words and your wonderful flaws.

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