No One Is Alone

No one here to guide you.
Now you're on your own.

Only me beside you.
Still you're not alone.

No one is alone.

Truly,

No one is alone.

Sometimes people leave you,
Halfway through the wood.

Others may deceive you
You decide what's good.

You decide alone.
But no one is alone.

People make mistakes

Fathers ... mothers ...

People make mistakes ...

... holding to their own.

Thinking they're alone...

Honor their mistakes
Everybody makes
One another's
terrible mistakes.

Witches can be right.
Giants can be good.
You decide what's right.
You decide what's good.

Just remember--

Someone is on your side
Someone else is not.
While you're seeing your side,
Maybe you forgot?
They are not alone.

No one is alone.

Hard to see the light now,
Just don't let it go
Things will turn out right, now.
We can make it so...

Someone is on your side.

No one is

Alone.

I saw Bernadette Peters today on my way to my parked car, after going into midtown to get my comicbooks. She was behind her sunglasses (they must make them especially to hide behind, and so, cost a fortune) but she was talking on her phone as they all seem to do and only her speaking voice made me look up. She was fascinating enough to look at, but only in a split second did I realize who she was ... and then she was gone.

So I Tweeted about seeing her, and I gushed a little over her, and then I went to Amazon.com and downloaded her Sondheim, Etc. Live at Carnegie Hall.

And I said "when I want a great effing cry" I would then listen to it. But who buys a song and doesn't listen to it straightway?

So for the last half hour I've been listening to it over and over, letting a tear or two trickle down. Then I started hearing the actual words, and I realized I had to come here and type them out. And then while doing so, had a GREAT EFFING CRY.

These lyrics made me think of so many people, bloggers and face-to-face people who have been around, and now are not. Left me when I was only halfway through the wood. My heroes who are scattered around the country. And my parents.

I stopped taking my meds Friday morning. I tell you this because when I'm not on the meds, it's easier for me to cry. I ran out of them and the doctor's secretary said I had to come in and see him again before he would renew my refills. And I thought--"You know what? No."

And I think of Ned and the solidarity I had with him when we took meds, and how now here I am, leaving him halfway through the woods. It's not airtight, but it seems to fit peripherally. But Ned will take his meds whether I do or not, if he believes they have a good effect. And I think for him they do.

And I think the meds have/had a good effect on me. I think I may have achieved a pretty busy part time theripst's gig because I wasn't as scared of my potential clients as I used to be when I was a 'travelling therapist/counseling supervisor,' and left that job conveniently when I let my car get impounded, and subsequently unable to survive off Starbucks money, got my ass evicted from NYC.

I have had the benefits from the meds. Now I am hoping that I'm somehow better. That I can use reason to override my anxiety, the way I urge and encourage my clients who don't want medication. My fears were neurotic, not based on truth. I have more evidence and reinforcing beliefs to support that now. And experience to know that I Am Good Enough. I will make that work for me when I need it. I will let Dr. Feelgood prescribe for other patients and blackmail THEM into seeing him again when their meds are running out. If I really, really REALLY need those meds again, I will go straight to a psychiatrist, do not pass go, do not collect $200.

Grizzbabe, Ned, and like the letter 'Y'--sometimes Scott, you are the blogfriends who have stuck with me. (Eliel, you are my FRIENDfriend, so don't hate on my moment here.) I love you. I am not alone.

As a parting detail, here are other songs that make me cry;

"The Rainbow Connection" from The Muppet Movie
&
"Pure Imagination" from Willy Wonka.

Okay. And maybe now that I'm off my meds I'll post more.

And if I do, and you guys see me going back to bad--or getting worse--please tell me. Please don't let me get kicked out of New York again. There's no George I'm going back to.

I know you'll have my back, though. Because I'm not alone.

No one is alone.

PS, and you, Steven. I forgot, so silent you are. But speaking up in times of great need. Thank you too.