The Year of Celebration

I have been in hiding. I spent years on this blog revealing my truth, but then I became trapped. I somehow began to believe that I couldn’t share my reality anymore and that belief imprisoned me. It imprisoned me at a time when my mind had become a madman and was living to torture me. Haunted by the continuous splatter of sounds that were crunched, smashed, thrown together and weaved with a poisonous thread; a ricochet of memories, feelings, thoughts and voices. A downright cacophony of crazy.  Photo: Nicola Muirhead So, I shared. Six weeks ago, I took to social media and finally expressed how the last 18 months of my life had truly been in a post called “The Street Fight”:  “It’s been several months since I’ve posted. In the mental health narrative, we love stories of rebirth, renewal and redemption. We watch the phoenix burn and we are inspired when we see that phoenix rise from the ashes, but we rarely bear witness to what happens in between. Brene Br...

Power. After a year’s unintended break, I am drawn back to The Year of Celebration . Today, on my late father’s birthday, I pored through emails, articles, photographs, essays, newspaper clippings and videos. I feasted on his life. The portion I spent with him and the portion before me. I don’t reserve that purely for his birthday of course, but on March 4 th I always celebrate him, because often I just can’t. Sometimes, even now, the pain is too great and to remember him is to remember that he’s gone. And when I lost him, I did everything I could to lose myself. I learn ed many things from my dad. He was my greatest teacher, both in life and in death. His life story rivalled the best of any Shakespearean drama, but if I could condense it into one soundbite, his birthday sums it up: March Forth. It’s not just a date in the calendar, it’s a direction – to do something, to go somewhere. My grief and depression following his death was the launch pad for The Year of Celebration...

I have gratitude today. I try to have it everyday, but let's be honest, it can be damn hard when you're in the throes of a major depression so sometimes I just forget. I find writing a gratitude list can help (to be fair I often count my blessings in my mind rather than a piece of paper, which might not be as effective, but it certainly still does something). Today I am thankful to and for Sarah Frick. Despite the fact that we have only met twice (through her lovely husband John who often comes down to Bermuda for deep sea fishing) and the wide expanse of the Atlantic Ocean separates us, I consider her a soul sister. The reason I do is because I have been deeply inspired by Sarah's faith, hope and 'grace' over the last couple of years. Sarah writes a blog called Love Letters to Grace, which began following the loss of her days-old daughter Clara Grace. Sarah has chronicled her life since that time in the most beautiful, devoted way, by sharing those feelings with ...