Singing a Sad Song.

Yes, I am a singer, but I did not write this. This was sent to me by a very talented singer/songwriter friend trying to cope with the frustrations of trying to juggle it all.

I’m an emotional eater as well – I struggle with depression and alcohol and anything that goes into a country song. Which is probably why I am a songwriter.

I’ve been struggling for 2 years to get back to where I was – and not so much struggling to get back to a weight as much as struggling to get back to me. In 2006, I found myself again. It was a journey I’d been on for a couple of years but couldn’t ever pull everything together. And then I did. I had a good therapist who recommended some life-changing books.

And I fell in love – with ME. Imagine that, I didn’t have to wallow in the low self-esteem I’d felt my whole life. I could actually love me. And it turned into this huge outpouring of spirit – I was writing 1-2 songs a week. I felt confident and balanced.

And then reality hits – my “goal” of being successful in the music business fell to a splattering thud after a colossal fall. I had been approached by an established record label – which turned into nothing. My original songs, which received so much critical acclaim, couldn’t sell enough CDs to cover my expenses. My new Austin booking agent “couldn’t find anyone interested in booking” me (I still say they didn’t do anything for 2 months). I started giving my CDs away for free – creating some buzz. I started writing more. I really tried to force my naturally melancholy side to persevere and stay positive.

I just became overwhelmed by it all. And ate. And drank. And here I am – back to my pre-2006 weight. And mentality. Depressed. Frustrated.

Don’t get me wrong – I am working to pull out of the muck. I also understand that buried within that muck is the treasure I need to find – those parts within myself still yearning to heal from past wounds/issues. But I still feel buried.

I say this because I find my biggest struggle – my biggest heartbreak is when I feel like no one wants to hear me. I worked so hard to find my voice – my inner spirit and way of expressing myself. I felt so good about that. And now I feel like no one wants to hear it.

I still have this side of me that feels compelled to put on that outer face that seems like I have all my shit together and that I’m doing great.

I struggle with being inspired. I think some of us struggle with the mundane in life – and boredom (or maybe that’s just the addict in me). Inspiration gets my momentum going. When I’m not inspired – fuck it. I don’t care about anything. It’s so frustrating. I feel like I’m continually beating my head against a wall trying to break my cycle. . . .

And of course it’s a catch 22. I gotta work the boring day job to make money cause music doesn’t pay shit. I gotta do laundry and cleaning… and then it’s 11pm and I’ve had no creative experience – or inspiration – AGAIN. Now where did I hide those cookies?

Ugh.