My, my, my Solange. Just how did you jump into my soul, pull out the essence of me and recreate it into this beautiful song that then speaks life into me? How did you manage to convey every feeling I have had for the last ten years of my life into such a simple, beautiful masterpiece? How did you know that I had tried ALL those things— EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM—and still feel lost, oppressed, and disheartened.
How, Solange? How?
I tried to drink it away
I tried to put one in the air
I tried to dance it away
I tried to change it with my hair
Before I recognized my depression for what it was, I quite literally tried to do ALL of these things. I became a party animal trying to escape my emotions of inadequacy. I would drink heavily, smoke heavily (even though I swore I never would because of my Great Grandmother’s addiction to cigarettes), club almost fucking nightly, and I colored my hair like a chameleon. These were my college days, and I had just written off my behaviors as trying to find myself… Hindsight is, in fact, 20/20. I see now this is when my self-medication and self destruction began.
I ran my credit card bill up
Thought a new dress would make it better
I tried to work it away
But that just made me even sadder
When I dropped out of school, I started working. But my spending was excessive and frivolous. I had to support my new drinking and smoking habit. Plus I wanted to stunt like all of the rest of the people on social media. I wanted to attention. I wanted to feel good about myself. Well, suffice it to say that wasn’t exactly how my life played out. When being a socialite (and still not having any friends) wore off, I threw myself into my job, working fifty plus hours a week as if making money would solve all of my problems. I ended up getting burnt out and having a mental breakdown. Hospitalized and all.
I tried to keep myself busy
I ran around in circles
Think I made myself dizzy
I slept it away, I sexed it away
I read it away
I thought I was getting better when I got out of the hospital. I tried not to isolate or spend excessive time at work. Basically, I became a busy body, doing everything I could to get out of the house under the guise of working through my depression. But honestly, I realize now I was still running. Going to museums and art shows wasn’t dealing with my emotional health so it definitely wasn’t doing anything for my mental health— Just giving me more information to process until I couldn’t even think about how I FELT. I realized I was exhausted, so I started sleeping more. With more sleep comes isolation. I became numb to life. And I hated it. So I threw myself into reckless fucking (friends and strangers) and into romance novels where there was usually, almost always a happy ending. I can admit that I am still obsessed with reading a good book.
But back to the purpose of this post… This first verse, quite literally, detailed most of my adult life. And now, I’m trying to get out of this stagnant void and break the cycle. I actually think I’m doing well, but who knows. We shall see, hmmmm.
♥The Buxom Bruja