Selkie: My Memoir

Selkie: My Memoir

Just 8 months ago, I wanted to die and I had a plan to do it. I have suffered a progressively worsening suicidal ideation since postpartum depression 25 years ago.

I went for help and I got it.

4 years ago, I began my memoir. And when I got out of the hospital in February of 2022, I began a modern medical breakthrough therapy that put my long-standing treatment resistant depressive illness to bed. No more wanting to die way more wanting to live out loud as much as humanly possible.

In May of 2022, the stars aligned and I was connected to a literary mentor in London who was looking for stories that needed to be told in the form of a book.

I have worked feverishly since that time to bring my memoir to a place where I can submit a sample of my writing to literary agents in order to be published and get the word out as to what someone can recover from and find joy, in spite of it all.

I lost my father and best friend at age 7, my family pretty much fell apart, I coped through alcohol and anorexia and spending. I’ve had breast cancer I’ve had a miscarriage, I’ve had two marriages over half my life come to an end. And through it all, I have had an ass kicking take no names depressive illness.

Today, I received the final edit from my friend Susan in London who has been my mentor. And I’m going to sharepart of her note to mehere because this is where my gratitude lies today. For the work I’ve done, for the gift of the universe to match me up with this person, and all of the people who I know will be helped when they read my story.

The current working title is Selkie: A Memoir of Overcoming. The images shown here came from that hospital stay and are dated February 27th 2022. On one side, was the coloring sheet provided to those of us there to heal. And it was when I turned it over, and drew that sketch, that I truly think I pushed off the bottom for the last time.

Here’s part of the message I received today from Susan, who I lovingly call S.

“I want you to know that I feel inspired just thinking of your story to this point – not only what you’ve contended with in the course of life, but the talent and dedication you have shown me in the course of our working together. So many people make commitments, and they don’t keep them – they don’t do the things they said they would do, at the time they said they’d do them. You do. You’re standing really tall.

It’s quite emotional to be at this point! Thank you so much for working with me, and being ever-responsive to my feedback and editorial suggestions all along. You’re a highly capable writer, and time is going to show that to the world.

S”

And for all of these things- past, present, future – my life, my pain, my joy – every bit of it has been useful and purposeful and helpful and has made me who I am today and for all of that I am eternally grateful.

If anyone who reads this is suffering from a treatment resistant depressive illness, please message me and I’m happy to share what I have found to work for me. Never give up. Always go for help. You’re here for a reason even if you don’t know it. I do.

MY LIFE STORY, from beginning to end

MY LIFE STORY, from beginning to end

In the year 2050, I became this meme on Spacebook.  Here’s why.

Age 0. I was born.

Age 7. My dad died. His heart stopped. My heart broke. My family broke.

Age 8-17. Survival mode training 101, Part 1. 

Just add tequila.

Age 18-25. Survival mode training 101, Part 2. 

Had husband. Had miscarriage. Had lots of tequila.

Age 25-41. Got rid of tequila. Got new husband.

I got a  starter survival toolbox.  Some items included: 1-family of choice, 1-Blue Book, 1-Higher Power.

Read some tools, practiced some tools, lost some tools, misused some tools, lacked some tools.

Age 42-55. Put main toolbox in the garage. Got some tools out on occasion. Usually between kid’s events, bouts with cancer, mother’s funeral and Modern Family episodes.

Added second toolbox. Included brightly colored paint, some joy, furniture, brushes. Kept this one in the house.

Age 55. Life and my immediate family, as I knew it for 26 years, blew up all over the living room. 

Main toolbox found, under the rubble. Second toolbox proved to be a lifesaver.

Age 56-60. Did not die. Learned how to live. Took a minute. Got out the main toolbox. Added more books, more family of choice. Upgraded Higher Power. Added the Stuff that Dreams Are Made Of to my second toolbox. Used frequently.

Age 60-62. Got a wake-up call that I am gonna die. Don’t know how long I have. Estimate just under 30 years.

Found open door to a road less traveled. Walked through the door. Drove down the road. Led me to the beach. Brought both toolboxes. Put in the front seat for safety, like eggs and bread.

The main toolbox got upgrade. New Red Book added. New family adopted. Higher Power got another upgrade.  

Realized Higher Power has their shit together. And I am not far behind.

(Coming up)

Age 62-64 Continued using toolboxes. Got rid of tools that no longer worked. Upgraded to new and improved tools as more was revealed. Leaned into love. Burned fear in effigy. Surprised myself.

Age 64-90 Continued waking up with direct access to salt water and sunshine. Adapted toolbox and lifestyle to fit each other. Continued to upgrade and maintain Higher Power connection. Like electricity. Paying the bill by fully expressing my gifts and sharing. Wrote one kickass book. Or twelve. Won award for most fun grandmother in the history of time. Lost award for most humble grandmother of all time.

Let myself be love. 

Let myself be loved. 

Let myself be.