The Door Girl, Part 30

She mailed me her journal after my stay at the psych ward. Maybe it was to help me understand. Maybe it was to remind me that she was still alive despite the absence of me. Maybe it was to hurt me. I don’t know why she sent it, but as I read the entries, my heart ached for her. My mother was not a monster, but she was mentally ill. My mother did the best she could and the best she could was all she had to give.

July 2, 1974

The thing is, I’m happiest when I’m not me. When I escape and hide behind whatever I can. I guess I never learned that lesson—to be a big girl and face my problems. I think what gets people is the monotony of the everyday. I wake up, make coffee, take care of my child, set my timer for fifteen minute increments just to make it through to bedtime. And during those fifteen minute increments, I feel lost. I don’t know what to do with myself that has any value. And so I sleep. I get high. I drink. I break things. And after, I feel so bad that Junie has witnessed yet another breakdown, but I can’t help the madness. It’s clawing at me to get out and all I know to do is shatter glass.

Getting Naked and How!

Last night, my very dear friend treated me to a Sarah McLachlan concert for an early birthday present.  I have loved Sarah since I was about sixteen.  I remember hearing her on an alternative radio station in Lansing and struggling to hear the name of this amazing artist whose voice had just captivated me.

Last night, however, was the very first time I heard her perform live.  Her voice sounded exactly as it did on the discs at home...even more lovely.  

About halfway in to the concert, she performed her song, "Fallen."  I absolutely love this song.  If you haven't heard it, click on the link and give it a listen.  It's a song about making mistakes and the hard realization that we are, indeed, fallen.  For anyone who has ever wanted a do-over or looked back on poor choices and felt pure contrition, this song cuts to the core.  

The air outside was cool, the trees were lush green and there was a full orchestra filling up all of that beautiful space.  As she sang, "Though I've tried, I've fallen/I have sunk so low/I messed up/Better I should know/So don't you come 'round here/And tell me I told you so," hands were raised above heads.  Faces were lifted and clearly contemplative.  For those four minutes, the scales fell off our eyes and we were all raw in our humanness.  We weren't in church, but it was a spiritual experience.  

By the artist allowing herself to be naked in her lyrics, we all were as well.  There are those profound moments in life when I think, "Damn.  It feels good to be human."  No facades.  No questions.  Just acceptance and gratitude.  What a gift to offer others peace through your song.

And we all have a song of some sort, don't we?  It might not sound the same and the words might be different.  Instead of spellbinding notes, it may be gritty.  It might not come out in music, but in authenticity within our relationships.  The songs are all individual, but at the core, we are all wonderfully human, broken.  

What are some works of art, music, film, etc. that have moved you deeply and pulled you out of the mundane?  That have stripped you of your niceties?

I'll leave you with a great quote taken from a video titled, "The Power of Art" loaned to me from a friend: "Great art has dreadful manners.  The greatest paintings grab you in a headlock, rough up your composure, and then proceed in short order to re-arrange your reality." -Simon Schama