It’s Never Too Late To Reminisce, Dedicated to my friend blahpolar
It had been almost six years since I logged into my WordPress account, but one of the first people I knew I wanted to check on was my old blogging buddy, @blahpolar. We used to banter back and forth about music, psych hospitals, meds, whatever. She was one of my first followers here and one of my good friends although we never met in person. I was so saddened to find out tonight that she had passed away several years ago. My heart actually hurt, because when I decided to return to writing here, I was very excited to reconnect with her and see how she was doing.
When I was afraid to go to the hospital, she provided me encouragement and support. She encouraged me when I was battling writer’s block completely doped up on Seroquel. We supported one another, but life got busy and I stopped writing, hence, stopped logging into a place where I found a tremendous amount of comfort in 2014-2015. I found such support here at such a very dark time in my life, and had I not, I believe, I could have ended up just as my friend did, gone way too soon.
Depression is a vicious beast, that far too many medical providers do not fully understand. I work as a nurse in a primary care office now, and I work closely with many high risk patients, many patients that suffer the way I had and the way my friend, @blahpolar had, and I try my damndest to advocate for each and every one of the patients with whom I work. But there is so much work to be done. The stigmas of mental illness continue to permeate our society, and now to further complicate matters, Covid has shut down all in person support groups, IOP programs, therapy sessions and personal contact. When someone is in a crisis situation, the last thing they are going to do is pick up a phone or join a Zoom call. I know when I was at my deepest point of depression, I would not have. For God’s sake, I could not even get in the shower or change my clothes.
I am going to miss my friend now that I am back, and I feel so terribly that she was suffering so silently. Depression is good at making us think we are imposing our sadness on others, when really, so many of us would be willing to listen, especially in this community, but the voice of depression drowns out any sense of reason. I do know one thing, however, that is a blessing and it’s the fact that thanks to the internet, her talent, her kindness and her beautiful supportive words to others will live on forever. If I want to remember one of our conversations, it’s memorialized on my posts or on hers.
To my friend, I must apologize for I am so sorry I did not get to say goodbye, and I am sorry, I did not reciprocate the support you provided me when I needed it most, because I was not here at the time. I can tell you this, though, I’ve been receiving signs from the universe that it was time to put my words to the keys again, and seeing your comments and words to me, while I revisited them tonight in my sadness, reinforced how important writing is for me and the need for me to continue. As Emily Dickinson once wrote, “Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.”
After viewing everyone’s comments on your page, it’s obvious you have been sadly missed and deeply loved, and always will be. I pray you are finally at peace and jamming out to Rage Against the Machine in your Rage Against the Latrines t-shirt once more.