My Blogs Have Been Getting Bleak.

My blogs have been getting bleak. Real bleak. I seem to have come to an impasse and I don’t know what to do next. There’s a quote from one of my favorite books, Clear Your Clutter with Feng Shui, that says, “…many types of depression are caused by a higher part of your consciousness stopping you doing what you have been doing because it is time for you to do something else.” I like the fact that Karen Kingston says “many types of depression” as opposed to depression in general, because god knows I have some serious chemical depression going on that can’t be cured with feng shui. But I’m also open to this idea she presents when it comes to those components of my depression that are circumstantial.

A year ago, I started writing this blog, and it’s been good for me. But the blog was never the endgame. I always knew I’d want more: maybe a YouTube channel, or maybe getting back to songwriting. But every time I try to even think about doing either of these things, it feels like my brain explodes. I cry a lot, get mad, take Klonopin, and end up staring lazily at the YouTubes. So I know it’s time to take on something else. I know I’m tired of just sending blogs into the void. And I know it’s making me depressed. I just don’t know what my next move is. I don’t know how to get started.

I heard a reference in a YouTube video to something U.S. Navy Vice Admiral James Stockdale once said: “You must never confuse faith that you will prevail in the end—which you can never afford to lose—with the discipline to confront the most brutal facts of your current reality, whatever they might be.” And I realized that I used to have the ability to do that. I just naturally had this belief in myself, that things may be hard now, but I would prevail in the end. This was especially true when it came to my career. The whole time I was performing in theater and training in opera, I held this utter conviction that I was going to succeed. I worked tirelessly to improve my skills, but I never expected or intended to fail. I knew the odds were not good. I’d heard all the advice about having a backup plan. But I also had constant encouragement from teachers and directors and voice coaches telling me that I was the exception to the rule, that I was going to make it. And I did work- I did long runs of musicals and plays many, many times, and I did plenty of opera concerts in NY and Boston.

But somewhere around turning age 39, I started losing faith. I had left theater behind years ago in order to pursue opera seriously- singing Wagner, no less- and I just couldn’t catch a break. I didn’t realize my voice was so heavy until I was already 31, so I had to learn all new music and train in a new way. I didn’t get a lot of auditions (partly due to my age) and the few I could get didn’t go well (even when I performed well, it didn’t lead to a job). Despite practicing alone in my apartment, traveling to NY every few weeks for a lesson and a coaching, and making new contacts in Boston, I eventually lost faith. I started crying every time I’d try to sing. I started judging myself every time I opened my mouth. And I started having suicidal thoughts while forcing my way through scales and arias. My mental health was already in a downward spiral as medication after medication failed to help me, and the conflation of circumstances broke me. I no longer believed that things would work out for me in the end. And I haven’t believed it since.

But maybe now, if I can just believe that I will overcome whatever obstacles I encounter despite the brutal reality of my life, maybe I can get somewhere. I’m not saying opera is necessarily in the cards for me. I’m 41 and that ship has probably sailed. But there are plenty of other ships out there. There are books to be written, videos to be produced, music to be composed. If I can just pick one thing that I really, truly want, and then find that unerring faith that I will in some way succeed, there’s hope. Right now there’s no hope, and I’m having a hard time getting through the day. But if any part of my depression is my higher self telling me to do something else, I’m all ears. If I can tune in and figure out what my next endeavor should be, I think I can get that faith back again. I think if I can commit to something new, I might be able to believe I will endure the struggles and come out the other side.