Inside the Rebellion of Saints

this is for all the kids who glow in the dark. I'm the narrator and this is just the prologue.

Posts tagged inspiration

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The Happy-Sads

official-gerardway:

I was having a conversation with someone important to me a few months ago and they said something I had never heard before.

We were talking about depression. More specifically- the flash-flood of bulletproof mania, and it’s inevitable descent into lengthy, paralyzing anguish- our shared condition. 

“The Happy-Sads.” they said. “That’s what my doctor calls them”.

 I rested in the hum-quiet lapse that happens every so often on the phone. 

It seemed such a simple way to put it, but it summed it all up. I hear these little pieces all the time- I think we all do- someone says something, a turn of phrase, or a sentence fragment- and it sticks. It resonates. It becomes a short story or the subject of a comic, a song title- sometimes more.

The Happy-Sads.

It felt like something larger and smaller at the same time- it made sense of everything, boiling it down to a simple phrase- and I laid down under it’s gravity. 

I remember being a boy, and the times where everything was quiet. Those were the briefest moments, and you had to catch them like comets. Then came chaos and noise- reckless, indestructible enthusiasm. That part lasted longer than the quiet, but not nearly as long as the empty.

I think it was easier for those older than me to say I was simply shy, and I wasn’t to hear the word “introverted” until I got to high school, and I didn’t hear anyone seriously talk about “depression” until I was in college- and even then it was just something you could “will away”. No one’s son or daughter was “crazy” or a “manic-depressive”. Labels. From youth to adulthood I would bounce back and forth from “very artistic” to “quiet”.

If my depression was robbing the bank, then my anxiety was waiting in the get-away car outside, masked and armed. There would be stretches that would go on for weeks where I thought I was going to Hell. These would segue into stretches where, knowing that everyone was going to die eventually and I would lose everyone I knew, I couldn’t spend more than 2 minutes in school before going home in hysterics.  I just didn’t want to lose a single moment with people I loved- moments I could never get back.

My anxiety found different ways of manifesting itself- more subdued versions as I got older, but the back and forth, the up and down, stayed the same. You couldn’t wind a watch to it, but you could see it just over the hill, and you’d wait for it to hit.

Years of it.

Then I learned to use it, to tap into it, but I was hiding, not facing.

Being a singer in a band allowed me to tap into 2 very extreme emotions, and ones I knew very well- violent happiness and theatrical despair. This worked for me for years. And the more I could use them every night, the less I had to deal with them during the day, or night afterwards. Zeroes in a bunk, zeroes in the morning, drinking coffee, watching mile-markers. 

Zeroes. Years of them.

I then decided to deal with it.

I had another conversation, again with someone important to me, but this person was life-threateningly ill. They said to me one thing that was the most important.

 “Everything is temporary. When you’re happy- it’s temporary. Sad? Temporary. Job? Temporary. Bought a house? It’s only yours until you no longer need it. “

There were two ways to look at it- happy or sad. But everything was temporary.

In your worst moments, where you are staring into the blackest hole, the razor-lined mouth of a vicious, rabid animal- when you aren’t good enough, pretty enough, thin enough, smart enough- when the worst thing inside you chooses to attack- it is temporary. Likewise, when you are in those moments of pure joy, surrounded by your loved ones, high scoring skee-ball, holding your best friends hand at a concert- it is also temporary.

And that is ok. 

It is life, and living, or the closest thing to it- but more than that there is help.

I go to therapy- my doctor and I don’t use labels, because she believes that every single person is a different case. What one person has more of, another has less of.

And in the differences, we are all the same- imbalanced, and some of us need an assist. I grew up in an era that came off the tail end of damning the notion of mental treatment, so it was a dirty phrase. Unfortunately it still is today. The labels linger, the stigma exists, and all of it keeps help further away.

This is the part where I get serious and say that if you suffer from severe depression, you should seek treatment. If no one takes you seriously- find someone that will. Knowing what I know now, I wouldn’t fear a single repercussion for taking my mental health seriously and in my hands. Nothing would stop me. Not a label, or a joke- nothing.

I hope you find comfort in this. I hope you know that a lot of people, including myself, battle the beast all the time, and we win. I have finally gotten myself to a place where I no longer face the extremes, but it takes work, every week- I get up, and I make sure I am at my session- even the days where I don’t want to be there. I would imagine you’d feel the same way sometimes, and that is ok. Maybe it’s even hard for you to take the first steps- and that’s ok too. 
I know you can.

^^^ this might be the most perfect and beautiful way I’ve ever read depression described. 

I became a My Chem fan later in life (as in just a year ago) but I really fell in love with their music at a dark point in my life. Gerard has been such an inspiration. He’s truly such a beautiful soul with a heart for those who really suffer with this. If I could ever meet him I’d give him a big hug and thank him for encouraging all of us who have ever lived life in the dark. Keep doing what you’re doing, Mr. Way! You are a light in the darkness. 

To all my followers, if you are struggling with depression know that you are NOT alone. There’s a hope and a way out. Keep running!

Filed under gerard way inspiration killjoy happy-sads blog hero my chemical romance depression life help

1 note &

My grandfather passed away over ten years ago now but I still very much feel his presence. My grandmother passed this spring & it’s still very very unreal to me. However my mom was using a cook book we inherited from her and found tucked in it a little note from my grandfather: “I love you very very much…try to keep upbeat and try to concentrate on our future and more happy times…” even though he missed much of my life he still inspires me every day.

My grandfather passed away over ten years ago now but I still very much feel his presence. My grandmother passed this spring & it’s still very very unreal to me. However my mom was using a cook book we inherited from her and found tucked in it a little note from my grandfather: “I love you very very much…try to keep upbeat and try to concentrate on our future and more happy times…” even though he missed much of my life he still inspires me every day.

Filed under love romance inspiration true love grandparents joy treasures generation

3 notes &

On February 25th 2004 the love of my life was born.

Her name is Maggie. 

She is my sister, my best friend, my joy, my heart, my inspiration, the apple of my eye.

She saves my life every day with her smile and her spunk.

I cannot imagine life without her.

She is my greatest joy and my greatest blessing.

I honestly doubt I could ever love anyone or anything more than this child. 

Filed under sister baby baby sister christmas santa elf love family joy blessing kisses kiss friend heart inspiration life personal me

418,860 notes &

winstonsface:

breezylovesbbycakes:


Wilder was initially hesitant, but finally accepted the role under one condition:
When I make my first entrance, I’d like to come out of the door carrying a cane and then walk toward the crowd with a limp. After the crowd sees Willy Wonka is a cripple, they all whisper to themselves and then become deathly quiet. As I walk toward them, my cane sinks into one of the cobblestones I’m walking on and stands straight up, by itself… but I keep on walking, until I realize that I no longer have my cane. I start to fall forward, and just before I hit the ground, I do a beautiful forward somersault and bounce back up, to great applause.
When Stuart asked why, Wilder replied, “because from that time on, no one will know if I’m lying or telling the truth.”

this used to be on my blog ALL the time omg

He will always be my favorite actor

winstonsface:

breezylovesbbycakes:

Wilder was initially hesitant, but finally accepted the role under one condition:

When I make my first entrance, I’d like to come out of the door carrying a cane and then walk toward the crowd with a limp. After the crowd sees Willy Wonka is a cripple, they all whisper to themselves and then become deathly quiet. As I walk toward them, my cane sinks into one of the cobblestones I’m walking on and stands straight up, by itself… but I keep on walking, until I realize that I no longer have my cane. I start to fall forward, and just before I hit the ground, I do a beautiful forward somersault and bounce back up, to great applause.

When Stuart asked why, Wilder replied, “because from that time on, no one will know if I’m lying or telling the truth.”

this used to be on my blog ALL the time omg

He will always be my favorite actor

(Source: thepriest, via sassysaffron)

Filed under Willie Wonka classic film movie willie wonka and the chocolate factory gene wilder amazing wonka childhood inspiration love

0 notes &

"The Hound of Heaven" By Francis Thompson

I FLED Him, down the nights and down the days;  I fled Him, down the arches of the years;I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways    Of my own mind; and in the mist of tearsI hid from Him, and under running laughter.        5      Up vistaed hopes I sped;      And shot, precipitated,Adown Titanic glooms of chasmèd fears,  From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.      But with unhurrying chase,       10      And unperturbèd pace,Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,      They beat—and a Voice beat      More instant than the Feet—‘All things betray thee, who betrayest Me.’       15           I pleaded, outlaw-wise,By many a hearted casement, curtained red,  Trellised with intertwining charities;(For, though I knew His love Who followèd,        Yet was I sore adread       20Lest, having Him, I must have naught beside).But, if one little casement parted wide,  The gust of His approach would clash it to.  Fear wist not to evade, as Love wist to pursue.Across the margent of the world I fled,       25  And troubled the gold gateways of the stars,  Smiting for shelter on their clangèd bars;        Fretted to dulcet jarsAnd silvern chatter the pale ports o’ the moon.I said to Dawn: Be sudden—to Eve: Be soon;       30  With thy young skiey blossoms heap me over        From this tremendous Lover—Float thy vague veil about me, lest He see!  I tempted all His servitors, but to findMy own betrayal in their constancy,       35In faith to Him their fickleness to me,  Their traitorous trueness, and their loyal deceit.To all swift things for swiftness did I sue;  Clung to the whistling mane of every wind.      But whether they swept, smoothly fleet,       40    The long savannahs of the blue;        Or whether, Thunder-driven,    They clanged his chariot ’thwart a heaven,Plashy with flying lightnings round the spurn o’ their feet:—  Fear wist not to evade as Love wist to pursue.       45      Still with unhurrying chase,      And unperturbèd pace,    Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,      Came on the following Feet,      And a Voice above their beat—       50    ‘Naught shelters thee, who wilt not shelter Me.’ I sought no more that after which I strayed  In face of man or maid;But still within the little children’s eyes  Seems something, something that replies,       55They at least are for me, surely for me!I turned me to them very wistfully;But just as their young eyes grew sudden fair  With dawning answers there,Their angel plucked them from me by the hair.       60‘Come then, ye other children, Nature’s—shareWith me’ (said I) ‘your delicate fellowship;  Let me greet you lip to lip,  Let me twine with you caresses,    Wantoning       65  With our Lady-Mother’s vagrant tresses,    Banqueting  With her in her wind-walled palace,  Underneath her azured daïs,  Quaffing, as your taintless way is,       70    From a chaliceLucent-weeping out of the dayspring.’    So it was done:I in their delicate fellowship was one—Drew the bolt of Nature’s secrecies.       75  I knew all the swift importings  On the wilful face of skies;  I knew how the clouds arise  Spumèd of the wild sea-snortings;    All that’s born or dies       80  Rose and drooped with; made them shapersOf mine own moods, or wailful or divine;  With them joyed and was bereaven.  I was heavy with the even,  When she lit her glimmering tapers       85  Round the day’s dead sanctities.  I laughed in the morning’s eyes.I triumphed and I saddened with all weather,  Heaven and I wept together,And its sweet tears were salt with mortal mine;       90Against the red throb of its sunset-heart    I laid my own to beat,    And share commingling heat;But not by that, by that, was eased my human smart.In vain my tears were wet on Heaven’s grey cheek.       95For ah! we know not what each other says,  These things and I; in sound I speak—Their sound is but their stir, they speak by silences.Nature, poor stepdame, cannot slake my drouth;  Let her, if she would owe me,      100Drop yon blue bosom-veil of sky, and show me  The breasts o’ her tenderness:Never did any milk of hers once bless    My thirsting mouth.    Nigh and nigh draws the chase,      105    With unperturbèd pace,  Deliberate speed, majestic instancy;    And past those noisèd Feet    A voice comes yet more fleet—  ‘Lo! naught contents thee, who content’st not Me!’      110Naked I wait Thy love’s uplifted stroke!My harness piece by piece Thou hast hewn from me,    And smitten me to my knee;  I am defenceless utterly.  I slept, methinks, and woke,      115And, slowly gazing, find me stripped in sleep.In the rash lustihead of my young powers,  I shook the pillaring hoursAnd pulled my life upon me; grimed with smears,I stand amid the dust o’ the mounded years—      120My mangled youth lies dead beneath the heap.My days have crackled and gone up in smoke,Have puffed and burst as sun-starts on a stream.  Yea, faileth now even dreamThe dreamer, and the lute the lutanist;      125Even the linked fantasies, in whose blossomy twistI swung the earth a trinket at my wrist,Are yielding; cords of all too weak accountFor earth with heavy griefs so overplussed.  Ah! is Thy love indeed      130A weed, albeit an amaranthine weed,Suffering no flowers except its own to mount?  Ah! must—  Designer infinite!—Ah! must Thou char the wood ere Thou canst limn with it?      135My freshness spent its wavering shower i’ the dust;And now my heart is as a broken fount,Wherein tear-drippings stagnate, spilt down ever  From the dank thoughts that shiverUpon the sighful branches of my mind.      140  Such is; what is to be?The pulp so bitter, how shall taste the rind?I dimly guess what Time in mists confounds;Yet ever and anon a trumpet soundsFrom the hid battlements of Eternity;      145Those shaken mists a space unsettle, thenRound the half-glimpsèd turrets slowly wash again.  But not ere him who summoneth  I first have seen, enwoundWith glooming robes purpureal, cypress-crowned;      150His name I know, and what his trumpet saith.Whether man’s heart or life it be which yields  Thee harvest, must Thy harvest-fields  Be dunged with rotten death?       Now of that long pursuit      155    Comes on at hand the bruit;  That Voice is round me like a bursting sea:    ‘And is thy earth so marred,    Shattered in shard on shard?  Lo, all things fly thee, for thou fliest Me!      160  Strange, piteous, futile thing!Wherefore should any set thee love apart?Seeing none but I makes much of naught’ (He said),‘And human love needs human meriting:  How hast thou merited—      165Of all man’s clotted clay the dingiest clot?  Alack, thou knowest notHow little worthy of any love thou art!Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee,  Save Me, save only Me?      170All which I took from thee I did but take,  Not for thy harms,But just that thou might’st seek it in My arms.  All which thy child’s mistakeFancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home:      175  Rise, clasp My hand, and come!’  Halts by me that footfall:  Is my gloom, after all,Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?  ‘Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,      180  I am He Whom thou seekest!Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest Me.’

Filed under Christian poem faith the hound of heaven inspire francis thompson God love Savior Catholic inspiration beautiful victorian hope voice heart stars moon love