The Road Home

So two weeks ago, I found myself in a very dark place, at that point where my psychic pain exceeded my ability to cope with it. I could write lots and lots and lots about how I got there, what’s going on in my head, what’s happened since then, and all that. I’ve written a lot of it already, and I don’t know whether or not I’ll ever publish it. All I know is that I’m very thankful that the small part of me that still wanted to live won out over the large part of me that didn’t want to live. I sought treatment, got it, and was overwhelmed by the love of family and friends.

Since 2009, I’ve been a member of the Huntsville Master Chorale. In the rational part of my brain that kept working on Monday the 20th, I thought to send our director, Dr. Erin Colwitz, an email to let me know that I’d be missing practice. [This same rational part of the brain is what also made me go home, get my medication, check my mail, and deposit my paycheck before I went to the hospital.] The next night, Dr. Colwitz apparently gathered some recording equipment, and they put this together with no notice.

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I am overwhelmed.