Fear-Crossed Lovers

poem, poetry, fear-crossed lovers, souls, love


Which is Worse, Nonexistence or Simply Existing?

The death of a former colleague reminds me how inconsequential my life is.

It had been years since I thought about this former colleague. I was an intern and she wasn’t in the office every day, but we were friendly. I remember she had cancer and wrote a book about it. Last week, while browsing the blog of my former employer, I saw she passed away in January.

Her death affects me in no way, but that didn’t stop an unidentifiable twinge when I found out. Maybe it reminded me of how inconsequential my life is. Between Twitter and the news sites I follow, every day I see someone has died. I keep scrolling or read something else. Compare this to the devastation felt when a loved one dies. Then there’s the gray area my former colleague was in. I’d met her, I knew her, but her life had no substantial consequence on mine. Nor does her death.

That’s how it goes for most people we cross paths with. You see them on a regular basis and then you don’t, for whatever reason. And despite not thinking of them again, we believe in our hearts they’re still existing in some space.

There are people from my past I text several times a year. For example, the one person in the world I know who will find a certain meme hilarious. How would I feel if he died? Damn, that’s crazy. He hasn’t been married that long. Then I’d text Laura, You remember… Is that how he would remember me? Most likely, and that’s scary. I want to make an impact on everyone I meet, but if my life gets less than a minute of remembrance, how well did I do? (These thoughts are making me lightheaded).

We matter to someone. Hopefully. But to the person who stumbles upon news of my death while watching the news, I’m practically nonexistent. And to the people I once called friends (is that a stretch? Acquaintances?) for a short while, I simply existed. I’m not sure which is worse.


P.S. Another athlete came forward about dealing with mental illness. Kevin Love detailed what it was like having a panic attack during an NBA game.

Thank You Bloggers

Bloggers are awesome.

My favorite part about creating Depressed House Husband has been connecting with readers and writers. Not just on my own site. I love checking the blogs I follow and discovering new people. Engaging in comment conversations.

I’m not on Facebook or Instagram, and Twitter likes don’t move me, but I swell when I see a like on my posts. Because everything I share here is true and authentic.

In addition to the entire blogging community, a special thanks to everyone who shares their story of mental illness. It was hard seeing anything clearly at my lowest point, but knowing there were others suffering as I was would have been huge. Your stories help me and so many others in ways that experts can’t. All of you are a big reason why I wanted to start blogging.

Thanks again! I’m honored to join such a wonderful group of people. Some of my favorites I’ve found in my month of blogging:

A Writer’s Soul

A Pause, Not an End

Running With Your Heart

Defining Yellow


Fractured Faith Blog

Football & Friends

I wasn’t awkward during the Super Bowl.

I’ve watched less and less football over the years. I usually don’t watch unless it’s the Titans or Vols. That said, I had no interest in watching the Super Bowl, but I’m glad I did.

A friend invited me to watch the game at his house and I spent the morning talking myself out of going. We hadn’t had a good morning and deciding not to go would have been easier. I wouldn’t have to think about going all day. I tried every excuse. I don’t care about the game. It starts so early. I don’t want to drive there. I don’t want to drive home. I don’t deserve to have fun. I’ll get pissed when the Patriots win.

I’m so glad I went. It was the first time in a year I hung out with two of my best friends. I wasn’t even awkward.

It was like we’d been talking every day for the past year. And the Patriots lost!

One other thing. I’m going to start drawing the featured images for my blog posts. Other than a select few, I hate searching for images. I can’t draw, but this seems like a fun idea at the moment.

As you’ve no doubt seen, I attempted a football helmet for this one. Going back to my last post, now I’m thinking about Hannah’s nickname for Clay.