I’ve been sitting in the deep end
Confiding into my demons that I’ve neglected healing
I’ve been chasing this version of me that I’ve been hating
Years wasted mistakes I feared that I’m making and it’s a
Hard swallow that lingers and stings
When you’re screaming out but nothing’s leaving your teeth
And the bottle’s heavier the more that I drink
I tried everything on my knees…
I’ve been giving so many second chances
Circumstances, relationships that are damaged
And now I’m making, my mask can’t carry this weight
I’ve been so ashamed, okay not being okay
And it’s a hard swallow that lingers and stings
When you overlook flowers to dwell on the weeds
And I can’t point my fingers when my fingers aren’t clean
It’s on me, there’s just one thing I need
Somebody take me to church
Somebody take me to church, I need to find peace
Accepting my wrongdoings are part of what’s me
If you’re up there, send a sign to see
I lost myself, I need something to believe
Somebody take me to church
~Coey Redd
This song was frequently featured on a playlist I titled simply, It Hurts. My favorite line, in that song, is the one I put in bold. And it’s a hard swallow, that lingers and stings, when you overlook flowers just to dwell on the weeds. I’ve got another playlist titled, Bad Days. There’s one titled Cornhole Nights. One called Faves. One called For My Babies. To name just a fraction of my many playlists! I’m not exaggerating, when I say, music is my way of bookmarking throughout my life’s story. There are lyrics that often express so perfectly exactly what I can’t, or shouldn’t. It’s therapy, for me, to get in my car and crank my music up loud. It’s a very big part of how I heal, but not only that. Music is for celebrating, for motivation, for pretty much any and every occasion imaginable, really. I made a little sign that says, Some days I want the music, some days I need the lyrics, and it’s absolutely accurate.
I watched my Apple Music 2025 replay, and it’s so interesting. Looking back to last year’s, and comparing it to this one. My song choices have documented this journey I’ve been on. It defines so clearly my ups and downs, as I’ve walked through the past couple of years. Something as “mundane” as my music review, at the end of the year, truly has shown me just how far I’ve come. I went from being inside the darkest place, only finding sporadic and limited moments that didn’t hurt, to where I’m at now. There were not so bad days, and sometimes days I could even call good. I’d begin to feel like maybe the worst ones were behind me, only to once again wind up back inside the oppressive darkness I’d briefly escaped. For awhile, I honestly didn’t think there was any reason to keep fighting to get out. I was critically low on hope needed to fuel the determination to continue. It seemed that everything that had mattered had either been taken, or it was only a matter of time until what was left would be. The frustration that comes, feeling entirely powerless against forces much stronger than I was, it left me nearly empty. Void of any emotions at all. I grew to be somewhat reckless, as it just didn’t seem to make a difference whether I did or didn’t do things. What was going to happen, was. I had no control over my own life, and no one could take things from me if there was nothing left to take. It was within that radical “indifference” that I discovered it was, in fact, possible for even more profound damage and hurt to find me. I nearly walked away from Adam, in the midst of that indifference. I’d given up on not only myself and the possibility for a meaningful future, but on our ability to build the fire necessary to sustain our marriage and our family. It was from there, that I made the decision to stop overlooking flowers to dwell on the weeds. Somewhere deep inside me, I found the strength to hold on, when letting go was somehow more comforting than the thought of spending another day with this death grip on something already collapsing. Every single thing depended on what it was that both Adam and I did next. I was done being sorry and miserable. I was not going to continue taking responsibility for choices that were never my own, or for what resulted from them. As for the parts and pieces that were mine and our burden, we’d done enough apologizing for our mistakes. I would no longer allow anyone to dictate when, if, and how I’d get up off my knees. I’m not ashamed of the person I was, nor am. Not anymore. I’m not proud of every single choice I’ve made in life, but I do know exactly where my heart was and is. My motives have never been ugly. My intentions have always been well meaning. My mistakes and my failures are not born of selfish desires, fulfilled by the price of causing irreparable harm to those closest to me. I’m better than that. I’ll not stay down, riddled by guilt and shame, while any other person casts stones at me or my family. I will hold my head up, do my very best to keep far away from those who cannot be trusted, and I’m finished with being afraid of anything they might still manage to throw in my direction. Each step forward is another step out and away from the horrible place I spent so long in. Being happy doesn’t mean I’m never sad. Healing doesn’t mean there won’t be scars. But, I am happy and healing. I understand things will forever look different, but different does not have to mean worse. I’m better, in spite of everything.
I have a few friends, from where I had worked. I’m especially close with one of them, Brittany. On Christmas, we each shared some photos, and wished each other Merry Christmas. That evening, she had sent me a text asking if she could call me. I told her, of course! She was upset and crying, when I answered her phone call. Her family’s as far from perfect as anyone else’s, and there’d been some unexpected drama, on a day supposed to have been a fun and relaxing one, for her, with them. She was hurt and disappointed, frustrated and feeling alone. So, she called me. I listened, offered my best advice, and then said some silly things that made us both giggle. We updated each other on all the latest gossip, and made plans to get together for lunch, on Monday. Before we hung up, she told me love you! I hear those words often, from Adam, my kids, and my family, but it hits different coming from a relatively new friend. I matter to a friend. I’m someone that somebody can count on. Somebody who’s only known me as this version of myself, in the time since who I used to be was dismantled. I’m not just putting myself back together, I am. I am a whole person. I’m not merely my broken pieces. I’ve stitched together the parts I salvaged from before, but with new pieces sewn into the me that people like my friend Brittany know. And, ya know what? I’m enough. Here’s somebody who values who I am, today. Not someone who’s waiting for me to be more like the person I was, but who sees and knows, and can even love this me. I’m giving myself permission to love me, too.
I really and truly am genuinely content in my own skin again, thanks to my family and friends like Brittany. ♥️
Chronicles in Submission 