Why am I writing this for the whole world to read?
Depression – suicide – anxiety – grief. They are all words that are used daily.
Most of us know someone who is suffering from depression in one form or another. Some of us have been the ones who have been left behind after a loved one killed themselves. That hole that is left – the guilt – the questions – the what ifs - haunt and hound us for the rest of our days.
We shy away or run away from those people who we perceive as having problems and are ‘always sad or down’. We fumble with our feelings – our arms hang limp at our sides because we don’t want to be drawn in or do the wrong thing. Doing the wrong thing is the bigger of those two – because most of us don’t know how to deal with someone who is suffering.
How do we deal with someone who cries freely in front of us? What do we do with someone who stands with shoulders slumped forward and eyes that betray pain and loss and angst? What do we do with someone who isn’t putting on a front or a good show for us? In the end it is just easier to run – to stay away – to not call – to not reach out.
In 1998 I had a complete and total mental breakdown. I didn’t know my own name let alone those of anyone around me. I cried continuously. I wrung my hands until they were raw. My mind was that of a child – afraid of everything. And I was suicidal.
Two people who loved me with all of their hearts took me to the hospital and watched as they put me into a psyche ward. They left crying.
Nine months later, when they let me go home, they knew they had done the right thing. Even though they have felt guilty about it since then – they know they did the right thing. And I have thanked them for it – repeatedly.
They saved my life. Without that intervention I would be dead.
So although we don’t know how to help and would rather someone else did? You might be saving a life if you just reach out – literally – and take that suffering person’s hand and just hold it. Most of the time words aren’t necessary. It’s knowing that someone is trying. To know that you aren’t a leper – that people don’t find you repulsive because you are depressed – that someone wants to help – even just to listen. That is what matters.
You don’t have to try to cheer the person up. It is more than likely that you won’t be able to. And the words “Call me if you need me” – yes – they are nice to hear. But I won’t be calling you. I can’t. So call me. Come see me. Come sit with me. Come bring me a cup of tea. But don’t ask me to call you if I’m really down. When I’m really down and I’m standing in front of the tub with my razorblade in my hand – I’m not picking up the phone to have a chat with you. But if the doorbell rings and rings and rings – I’ll have to put down that razor and come and answer it so I will have peace later to slash my wrists.
Intervention. It’s the new word these days isn’t it? But it works. Just intervening in my suicidal thoughts will distract me long enough for it not to happen at that moment. Forcing yourself into my world and insuring that I know you care? That’s what works.
Because when you’re depressed – you have yourself convinced that no one cares – because you don’t even care about yourself. So why would others? When you’re depressed the hole is deep and dark. Sometimes it’s quiet in there. Sometimes there’s so much noise from all the voices zipping around inside your head that you can barely hear.
Why would I want to kill myself you ask? Why would I kill myself when there are so many people who love me? What about those I’m going to hurt when they find out I couldn’t take it anymore and killed myself?
Let me tell you a secret about that.
A person who kills themselves doesn’t care about those he leaves behind. Well – they do down deep. But it’s not about the other people. It’s about them. Their life has reached the point where nothing can help. They can’t see any other way then to end it. It’s not about how much others will hurt. It’s about how much they hurt. It’s too much. Too much!! They are surrounded by darkness and it is sucking them downwards. They can look out and see the shadowy figures of their loved ones – but they are shadows – fleeting shadows. And the voices that call to them are muffled. But their own voice is clear and concise and inside their head they can hear the words “Just end it. It will be easier. Sure it will hurt for just a little bit – but then it will be gone – forever. Every single thing will be gone forever and you won’t have to struggle any more. You won’t have to hurt any more.”
So you see – your guilt and anguish and sadness over a suicide victim is something that is not important anymore when a person kills themselves. Of course they know it will hurt someone – but that hurt doesn’t even come close to the hurts they are feeling inside. And at that time – it never will.
However – did you notice that I said guilt first over anguish and sadness? We all feel guilt don’t we? And we should. Because I’m telling you that most suicides can be prevented. Simply by someone reaching out – physically – and touching that person who feels that way. Holding their hand and caring. Simple caring. It hardly takes more than that to bring someone back from the edge of escape.
But in this world – we don’t touch – we don’t show a lot of emotion. We like to watch it on tv or on the big screen. But we don’t want people to think we are weak or emotional. So we let those people who are suffering slip away because we don’t want to get involved. We’re too busy. It’s safer to let someone else do it. Send them to a professional. That’s what they are there for isn’t it?
Shame on us. Shame on the world for running away from suffering - because every single one of us suffers in some way. And every single one of us knows that a touch or a word of caring – true caring – can help bring a ray of sunshine back into our sad world.
Depression is a spiralling hole down into the darkness. A little kindness and caring goes a long way in helping those people climb back out of that void. Reach out and hug someone who is hurting. Really hug them. Listen to them if they try to talk to you. Really listen to them. You can hear the words and see the anguish if you pay attention. Let them know that you care. Really care. And don’t worry about saying the ‘right words’ to them. There are no ‘right or wrong words’. It’s the caring that counts.
The show that we usually put on for others? It’s transparent to a person who is suffering. So make it real. It’s not hard people. It’s not rocket science either. You don’t have to be a ‘professional’ to help - in fact some ‘professionals’ make it worse.
Remember that song? “Reach out and touch somebody’s hand – make this world a better place if you can.” It works people. More than you’ll ever know if you don’t ever give it a try.
I hope my honesty can help others. By saying that I’ve been there and back and by letting them know the world can be a better and happier place for those of us who suffer from depression. Then I’ve reached out a hand and given someone hope – even a little bit – and I’ve let them know that they are not alone.
That is why I am willing to write about it and put it out there for the whole world to see. I am willing to open my heart and my arms and my ears and be there for others who need me. I'm willing to read the emails from those in the same boat and try and help. I'm very willing to try because even a little bit goes a long way.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
Let Me Tell You The Truth
As always – I am overwhelmed with the outpouring of friendship and caring that comes from the virtual world. Thank you all.
Now – please bear with me as I tell you some things you won’t want to read – but that I need to say – because I know there are others out there who are in the same boat and can’t find the damn paddles. The water is deep and there are creatures in it that you have never dreamed of – even in your darkest moments.
I’m going to backtrack a bit here and tell some things that I refused to put in print and out into the void when I was suffering the most.
Some of you might think I’m totally nuts but at least you’ll know I’m honest. Some of you will never understand because you have children that fill that void in your life and perhaps have never loved an animal. Some of you have never known the love of an animal – the love that is unconditional and unwavering. Your loss.
And most of you have never known the inside of a psyche ward and the confusion and emptiness that takes over your brain when you have a breakdown. Lucky for you. For those of us who have suffered mentally – depression – breakdowns – meltdowns - you know where I’m coming from and you don’t want to go back there either. If hearing of someone else’s spiral into the blackness sets you on that track once more – don’t read further. Just a warning.
Here goes. (taking a deep breath)
Right after my precious Dolly died I was totally suicidal.
I sat on the bottom steps with my head in my hands – sobbing. The Man sat beside me with his arms around me – crying into my hair. I screamed – I sobbed – I tore at my face – I pulled out my hair – I threw anything I could get my hands on. And then I told him I just wanted to die so that I could go and be with my Dolly.
And I meant every single word of it.
He said – “What about me?”
I said – “I know – but I can’t help it. I just want to die. I just want to hold Dolly again and be with her. She was my baby.”
I immediately went and turned off and unplugged all the phones in the house. They stayed that way for 6 weeks. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. If my brother called – he left a message and I would call him back. I didn’t tell him or anyone how I was feeling. Just The Man. And I didn’t tell him about it for a couple of weeks.
In order to help me keep my mind from going right around the bend – The Man kept my mp3 player loaded with audio books so that I could keep my mind occupied instead of crying nonstop. It was that sort of thing (amid some others) that put me in the psyche ward the first time. I listened to those audio books the entire time The Man was not in the house. They helped.
But! During that time I started developing a plan – or to be more honest – two plans. I knew exactly how I was going to do it when I couldn’t take it any longer. I kept these secrets close while I worked on my knitting and dealt with the upcoming shows. I kept them close while I made sure I had all the necessary requirements in order to fulfill those plans.
One night – unable to deal with my anguish – I blurted out my secret to The Man. He stood staring at me – holding me at arms length – staring at my face where the evidence of my anguish was marked by the dark circles under my eyes – before the tears started down his cheeks.
“No Aims. You mustn’t! You mustn’t. What will I do?”
I told him I planned to fill our lovely clawfoot tub with nice hot water – get in – and slit my wrists. I could envision it all – the pain just seeping out into the water – the sinking down into the deep warm depths and giving in. I kept in mind that slashing my wrists would have to be done under the water so he wouldn’t have to clean blood off of the walls. I could listen to music while I did that and that it might hurt a bit but would soon be over. I didn’t want to be naked when they found me either so I kept that in mind as well. Plan 1.
Plan 2 was a little harder but still easily done. We have a big eyehook in the ceiling of our bedroom. It holds body weight quite easily. We have a couch almost directly below it – almost. I planned on tying my housecoat sash around my neck and through the eyehook and jumping off the couch. It would work. Less messy. Job done.
Never once did I think about taking all the pills in the house. That’s harder to do and you can easily have your stomach pumped. Then you have to face it all over again. No.
Never once did I think I should tell all of you. Or my doctor. No way. I would have ended up in the psyche ward for sure. Tied down. No – instead I pretended – in comments – in posts. I did a good job for most of the time. Few of you knew where my mind was really at.
When I told The Man, he left me a note to leave my cell phone on and keep it on me. He called me every hour to ‘just chat’. Just check. He raced home every single night instead of staying late as he always did to put in some extra overtime so we could have lots of time away.
I lived in my own personal little hell of loneliness and despair. Struck down and done in by the loss of my precious precious Dolly.
Please know how hard this is to write - so that is enough for today.
Now – please bear with me as I tell you some things you won’t want to read – but that I need to say – because I know there are others out there who are in the same boat and can’t find the damn paddles. The water is deep and there are creatures in it that you have never dreamed of – even in your darkest moments.
I’m going to backtrack a bit here and tell some things that I refused to put in print and out into the void when I was suffering the most.
Some of you might think I’m totally nuts but at least you’ll know I’m honest. Some of you will never understand because you have children that fill that void in your life and perhaps have never loved an animal. Some of you have never known the love of an animal – the love that is unconditional and unwavering. Your loss.
And most of you have never known the inside of a psyche ward and the confusion and emptiness that takes over your brain when you have a breakdown. Lucky for you. For those of us who have suffered mentally – depression – breakdowns – meltdowns - you know where I’m coming from and you don’t want to go back there either. If hearing of someone else’s spiral into the blackness sets you on that track once more – don’t read further. Just a warning.
Here goes. (taking a deep breath)
Right after my precious Dolly died I was totally suicidal.
I sat on the bottom steps with my head in my hands – sobbing. The Man sat beside me with his arms around me – crying into my hair. I screamed – I sobbed – I tore at my face – I pulled out my hair – I threw anything I could get my hands on. And then I told him I just wanted to die so that I could go and be with my Dolly.
And I meant every single word of it.
He said – “What about me?”
I said – “I know – but I can’t help it. I just want to die. I just want to hold Dolly again and be with her. She was my baby.”
I immediately went and turned off and unplugged all the phones in the house. They stayed that way for 6 weeks. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. If my brother called – he left a message and I would call him back. I didn’t tell him or anyone how I was feeling. Just The Man. And I didn’t tell him about it for a couple of weeks.
In order to help me keep my mind from going right around the bend – The Man kept my mp3 player loaded with audio books so that I could keep my mind occupied instead of crying nonstop. It was that sort of thing (amid some others) that put me in the psyche ward the first time. I listened to those audio books the entire time The Man was not in the house. They helped.
But! During that time I started developing a plan – or to be more honest – two plans. I knew exactly how I was going to do it when I couldn’t take it any longer. I kept these secrets close while I worked on my knitting and dealt with the upcoming shows. I kept them close while I made sure I had all the necessary requirements in order to fulfill those plans.
One night – unable to deal with my anguish – I blurted out my secret to The Man. He stood staring at me – holding me at arms length – staring at my face where the evidence of my anguish was marked by the dark circles under my eyes – before the tears started down his cheeks.
“No Aims. You mustn’t! You mustn’t. What will I do?”
I told him I planned to fill our lovely clawfoot tub with nice hot water – get in – and slit my wrists. I could envision it all – the pain just seeping out into the water – the sinking down into the deep warm depths and giving in. I kept in mind that slashing my wrists would have to be done under the water so he wouldn’t have to clean blood off of the walls. I could listen to music while I did that and that it might hurt a bit but would soon be over. I didn’t want to be naked when they found me either so I kept that in mind as well. Plan 1.
Plan 2 was a little harder but still easily done. We have a big eyehook in the ceiling of our bedroom. It holds body weight quite easily. We have a couch almost directly below it – almost. I planned on tying my housecoat sash around my neck and through the eyehook and jumping off the couch. It would work. Less messy. Job done.
Never once did I think about taking all the pills in the house. That’s harder to do and you can easily have your stomach pumped. Then you have to face it all over again. No.
Never once did I think I should tell all of you. Or my doctor. No way. I would have ended up in the psyche ward for sure. Tied down. No – instead I pretended – in comments – in posts. I did a good job for most of the time. Few of you knew where my mind was really at.
When I told The Man, he left me a note to leave my cell phone on and keep it on me. He called me every hour to ‘just chat’. Just check. He raced home every single night instead of staying late as he always did to put in some extra overtime so we could have lots of time away.
I lived in my own personal little hell of loneliness and despair. Struck down and done in by the loss of my precious precious Dolly.
Please know how hard this is to write - so that is enough for today.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Now - Once More - With Feeling......
Okay – I admit it. I’m back.
I’ve been lurking around a few places – a few – not many – so if you’ve seen me in your sitemeter – thanks for not saying anything.
Having been away now for almost 6 weeks - I’ve been sitting on the seesaw – wondering if I should continue or just throw in the towel. The towel has won so many times and in the three days that I’ve actually been home I’ve thrown it in the wash each day to see if the outcome changes when it comes out of the dryer.
I guess what it comes to is this.
I promised to tell about New Orleans and I promised to finish ‘The Man Tales'.
I always try to keep my promises.
So I will continue.
For a while.
But not today.
Today I’m just saying – I’m back.
I’m still grieving. And perhaps I always will. Today I wrote my best friend in the world and told her I felt like Ms. Bojangles. Another 20 years and perhaps my grieving will be done. But I don’t think or feel that is so.
As with the rest of the world – I feel the weight of depression that is taking over us all.
Now I have battled mental depression before and succeeded. I succeeded so well that I didn’t think I would ever be back here again. But I am the first to admit it and point the finger in my direction. I knew all along, underneath my smiling face – that there would be something that would set me off. You would think it would be something else than what did – but there you go. It’s happened – I admit it. I’m depressed.
However – I know how to work at it. To overcome it. And I have started on that particular journey once again.
But if I seem down and sombre – well – I am.
Overlook it. I’ll try for others – I will. Will I try for me? Honestly? I don’t know.
So for now. I’m back.
I’ll tell you all about New Orleans, then I’ll do a recap on ‘The Man Tales’ so far and then I’ll finish the story.
Oh! One other thing. For quite a while now I’ve been unable to respond to comments left here. I just couldn’t. But hopefully I’ll be able to do so again. I know it means quite a lot to some of you.
Okay – stay tuned.
I’ve been lurking around a few places – a few – not many – so if you’ve seen me in your sitemeter – thanks for not saying anything.
Having been away now for almost 6 weeks - I’ve been sitting on the seesaw – wondering if I should continue or just throw in the towel. The towel has won so many times and in the three days that I’ve actually been home I’ve thrown it in the wash each day to see if the outcome changes when it comes out of the dryer.
I guess what it comes to is this.
I promised to tell about New Orleans and I promised to finish ‘The Man Tales'.
I always try to keep my promises.
So I will continue.
For a while.
But not today.
Today I’m just saying – I’m back.
I’m still grieving. And perhaps I always will. Today I wrote my best friend in the world and told her I felt like Ms. Bojangles. Another 20 years and perhaps my grieving will be done. But I don’t think or feel that is so.
As with the rest of the world – I feel the weight of depression that is taking over us all.
Now I have battled mental depression before and succeeded. I succeeded so well that I didn’t think I would ever be back here again. But I am the first to admit it and point the finger in my direction. I knew all along, underneath my smiling face – that there would be something that would set me off. You would think it would be something else than what did – but there you go. It’s happened – I admit it. I’m depressed.
However – I know how to work at it. To overcome it. And I have started on that particular journey once again.
But if I seem down and sombre – well – I am.
Overlook it. I’ll try for others – I will. Will I try for me? Honestly? I don’t know.
So for now. I’m back.
I’ll tell you all about New Orleans, then I’ll do a recap on ‘The Man Tales’ so far and then I’ll finish the story.
Oh! One other thing. For quite a while now I’ve been unable to respond to comments left here. I just couldn’t. But hopefully I’ll be able to do so again. I know it means quite a lot to some of you.
Okay – stay tuned.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
I'm Walking to New Orleans
A Happy Holiday Season to Everyone!
See you - um - let's say - about - January 15th, 2009!
While everyone is eating their turkey dinner - think of me. I'll be eating alligator sausage - and loving it!
Friday, November 28, 2008
It's Show Time!
Aims and her brother are currently displaying their wares at the Festival of Crafts in Calgary, Alberta, Canada. The show runs from November 27th until November 30th. Come and visit!
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Not Goodbye - Not Yet
Another week has gone by and I am getting nowhere with my grief. I think I've forgotten how to deal with it and it seems out of control. Memories flood my waking hours and my tears have yet to wash them clean and put them someplace safe. They hover around me, sometimes buffeting me with their softness - sometimes treading on me with harsh footsteps.
I tried to participate in the Candle Ceremony at the Rainbow Bridge on Monday. I lit my candles and followed along and dissolved like the wax into a little puddle. It felt too much like saying goodbye and I just can't do that yet. I hope Dolly and Deeb saw my candle burning for them - my love shining through the night to reach out to them. Can you see how it hurts?
My two craft shows loom ever nearer. We begin our odyssey on the 26th when my brother and I set up our booth for the first 4 day show and we finish on the 7th of December after another 4 day show. I don't know how I will do it but I will know on the 8th if I will ever do it again.
We go to see Sarah Brightman on the 8th of December. I know I will cry throughout her performance as she always brings back memories of Cid battling his way through the crowds when he took me to see her for the first time. He died two months later - one of the best now gone.
The Man has surprised me with a holiday. I don't know about his timing but he put in for his accumulated overtime and we leave on the 9th of December for 5 weeks. We are towing our little 13 foot trailer and heading to the Big Easy. New Orleans!
So let me see. I finish my last show on the 7th of December. That means probably getting home around 1am after tearing down a booth and packing it up and driving for 2 hours. Fall into bed and hopefully sleep. Get up and unpack and put away anything from the show then pack for a 5 week holiday. Then get ready to drive an hour and half and go to a concert. Right. Get back home again around 1am and fall back into bed and then get up and hook up the trailer and leave. Unbelievable timing on The Man's part. Exhaustion sounds like a good word to put in here.
I have to say though that he has promised to get the trailer packed and get the house ready. All I have to do is get myself packed. He has also planned the whole trip this time and already has tickets to two basketball games. The New Orleans Hornets versus the Lakers and the Spurs! (gulp - more crowds)He's also signed us up for an art tour while we are there and we are hoping to arrive in time for a tour of 7 houses in the Garden District. Something is happening every day in New Orleans during the month of December. It will be fun and exciting - I know it! (and hopefully there won't be any snow)
For those of you who have followed this blog for some time - you will know that all of the above is going to bring me almost to my knees with anxiety and stress. I don't do crowds very well - nor can I leave my house very well. However. The shows are being done with my brother - another port in the storm of my life - and we are taking our little house behind us and I am going with The Man - my biggest safety net in the whole world. I'm going to be in tears leaving the barn behind and my everyday memories of Dolly. But perhaps it will help in the long run. I think I'll probably spend the drive sleeping and trying to recuperate from the two shows - all the knitting I've done - and life.
If I don't get any posts done before the shows and before I leave - I'll see you some time in January. The Man Tales will continue when I return.
Christmas in New Orleans. Wow!
I tried to participate in the Candle Ceremony at the Rainbow Bridge on Monday. I lit my candles and followed along and dissolved like the wax into a little puddle. It felt too much like saying goodbye and I just can't do that yet. I hope Dolly and Deeb saw my candle burning for them - my love shining through the night to reach out to them. Can you see how it hurts?
My two craft shows loom ever nearer. We begin our odyssey on the 26th when my brother and I set up our booth for the first 4 day show and we finish on the 7th of December after another 4 day show. I don't know how I will do it but I will know on the 8th if I will ever do it again.
We go to see Sarah Brightman on the 8th of December. I know I will cry throughout her performance as she always brings back memories of Cid battling his way through the crowds when he took me to see her for the first time. He died two months later - one of the best now gone.
The Man has surprised me with a holiday. I don't know about his timing but he put in for his accumulated overtime and we leave on the 9th of December for 5 weeks. We are towing our little 13 foot trailer and heading to the Big Easy. New Orleans!
So let me see. I finish my last show on the 7th of December. That means probably getting home around 1am after tearing down a booth and packing it up and driving for 2 hours. Fall into bed and hopefully sleep. Get up and unpack and put away anything from the show then pack for a 5 week holiday. Then get ready to drive an hour and half and go to a concert. Right. Get back home again around 1am and fall back into bed and then get up and hook up the trailer and leave. Unbelievable timing on The Man's part. Exhaustion sounds like a good word to put in here.
I have to say though that he has promised to get the trailer packed and get the house ready. All I have to do is get myself packed. He has also planned the whole trip this time and already has tickets to two basketball games. The New Orleans Hornets versus the Lakers and the Spurs! (gulp - more crowds)He's also signed us up for an art tour while we are there and we are hoping to arrive in time for a tour of 7 houses in the Garden District. Something is happening every day in New Orleans during the month of December. It will be fun and exciting - I know it! (and hopefully there won't be any snow)
For those of you who have followed this blog for some time - you will know that all of the above is going to bring me almost to my knees with anxiety and stress. I don't do crowds very well - nor can I leave my house very well. However. The shows are being done with my brother - another port in the storm of my life - and we are taking our little house behind us and I am going with The Man - my biggest safety net in the whole world. I'm going to be in tears leaving the barn behind and my everyday memories of Dolly. But perhaps it will help in the long run. I think I'll probably spend the drive sleeping and trying to recuperate from the two shows - all the knitting I've done - and life.
If I don't get any posts done before the shows and before I leave - I'll see you some time in January. The Man Tales will continue when I return.
Christmas in New Orleans. Wow!
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
The Concert
For those of you who have asked about the concert and our week away. Here is the story.
We arrived at the concert at BC Place in Vancouver and I was overwhelmed by the masses of people. I don’t do crowds well at all, but The Man had his arm around me and held me close as we wove our way through the people rubbernecking and oohing and aahing over the t-shirts and memorabilia on display near the entrance.
First of all – our tickets cost $225.00 for the two of us and they were in the nosebleed section. Never having been to the BC Place – The Man decided to ask at information where our seats were. The man behind the counter took our tickets – looked at them and then turned around and picked up some others and handed them to us. He said – these are right over there – enjoy.
He had traded our seats in the nosebleeds for seats that were 20 rows away from center stage! They cost $225.00 each! We were astounded!
As we sat in our seats stunned by our sudden fortune – a mother and daughter team came along and sat beside us. Their conversation went along the lines of what great seats they were. It turned out that the daughter had gone to the information desk and asked if they could trade in their tickets on an upgrade! And the same man had given them the seats right next to us. So someone had upgraded their tickets and the four of us got lucky!
The concert started soon after that and a man named Gordie Brown came on stage for the warmup. He was funny and great and we all got into the spirit of the thing. He was an impressionist who sang like other performers and he did it all with such humour he had us all laughing and clapping along with him.
While he performed – two girls came in and sat directly behind The Man and myself. The one girl was on her cellphone and yelling into it that she was at the concert and held it out for whomever to listen! I thought – okay – she’s all excited – I’ll let it go.
Then Celine came on stage and the crowd went insane! She started by singing ‘I drove all night’ and the girl behind The Man sang along at the top of her voice! I could feel the tension in my back and in my mind building and I was gripping the arm of the seat. I always seem to sit in front of someone who talks through everything! When Celine launched into her second song and the girl behind started to sing along again – well I had had it! I turned around with a huge smile on my face and tapped her on the knee and she leaned forward – singing at the top of her voice.
“I paid to listen to Celine Dion” I said with a sweet smile on my face.
“So did I!” she yelled in between singing – she didn’t even take a breath to say it!
“Yes!” I said – the smile leaving my face. “Not to you.”
And that was it. She shut up and never said another word.
People around leaned forward and flashed me grateful smiles. I told the girl sitting beside me what I had said and she laughed with delight and told her mother who also burst out laughing!
We didn’t have our camera with us, but my new-found friend next to me did.
(and no - unfortunately Andrea Bocelli was not actually singing along with her in person - but it looked great!)“Make sure you get a picture of her shoes,” I said very quietly as she snapped away.
“You’re right! They’re fantastic aren’t they?”
Then she asked for my email address during a ‘scene change’ and I handed it over! She sent me 41 pictures of the concert and I have a new found friend!
So – here are some of the pics she sent me. The show was incredible! Celine’s voice was incredible! And I only cried right at the end when she sang the Titanic song. I couldn’t help it! I didn’t know until we got back to the trailer that I had smudged my mascara onto my cheek – but I didn’t care.
Thank you Kris for sending me these and thank you for not talking or singing all through the performance.
I really believe that if you pay to see a movie or listen to a performer – then that is what you should get. If that girl behind us could sing like Celine – well then I would have been happy to pay to listen to her perform. But believe me – she couldn’t. And when it comes to telling people to be quiet at something like this – then I’ll do it! It’s my right to get what I paid for.
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