Maybe it has something to do with readjusting to my internal chemistry? Maybe it’s the lunar cycles? Maybe it’s just the fact that Hubs has his own anxiety cycle that spirals out of control annually and puts me on edge? Whatever it is, Chester Bennington’s death has significantly shocked my system. It was triggering in a way that I didn’t expect, really shook me up, and I’m not entirely sure why.
I shared an article on my Facebook page last weekend in which the author speaks about losing hope in the midst of her own battle with mental illness. It’s a great article that was worth the share, but that’s not my issue. I’ve already accepted that my illness is here to stay, the reality that even with the best coping mechanisms, the right balance of chemicals in my head, and a happy home it could still rear its ugly head and send me into a dark place at random. Hopefully nothing so dark that I contemplate taking my own life again, but it is a possibility. I have this disorder, it’s a part of me, and it does increase the risk of suicide. All the hope in the world won’t change the facts, so I don’t feel defeated or afraid.
I think the biggest part of it is the fact that Linkin Park reached the pique of their popularity the same time I was attempting to cling to my fragile identity. Chester’s voice through his lyrics was my voice until I opened up and learned how to use my own. In a way, even though I don’t need his music to speak for me anymore, it feels like I’ve lost a little part of myself. A piece of my mosaic, chameleon soul and that’s rough. I didn’t need the music to create the emotional storm in my head, or to create a facade of feelings for me to adopt, but it was like a lens or an interpreter. I already had the feelings but I didn’t know how to express them after being invalidated and projected upon my entire childhood.
Music was the first thing to validate my emotional experiences. Linkin Park and a handful of other bands specifically, and I think I formed a deeper attachment to their music because of it. An attachment that should have been formed with a parent or peer, designed to wane as I grew as a person and developed into myself. Which it did. The more confident I grew in my own voice, the less I resonated with Linkin Park’s recent lyrics, my attachment slowly fading in preparation for the next phase of my personal growth. Even still, as much as the attachment faded over the years I struggle a lot with my abandonment/attachment issues. Having one, even a small one, suddenly ripped away from me has taken me some unexpected emotional places over the past week.
None of them as dark as those places that bring out the desire to end it all, but it still hurts.