Grey Scales

It's been a dense few days; I wouldn't even know where to begin, to be honest.

As most of the world has heard, Amy Winehouse passed away a few days ago. The autopsy results have yet to be released, so we're better off not jumping to conclusions or passing judgement because it is what it is. Obviously, I didn't know Amy personally, but her passing has left a dark void in my life. I first stumbled upon Mark Ronson via some site aimed at young teen girls, and while enjoying his fresh sound, I stumbled upon Amy. 'Rehab' had just been released and was increasing in popularity. It filled the air every time a radio was turned on, and was often revisited on my iPod nano. That summer we moved, and I spent a lot of that next year in hospitals for a rather tame bout with cancer. It wasn't life threatening, but it still was a lot. It was a lot to hear, a lot to go through and even more to think about. As usual, I didn't have many close friends, so I ended up confiding in my math teacher at the time. I never intended to tell anyone about it, but the tears just came out pouring when she sternly asked about my absences. It's so strange how, in my head, I was fine. I was chill. Okay, I had cancer but it wasn't going to kill me. I wasn't going to need chemo. I wasn't going to lose my hair. No biggie. 

I was so unbelievably wrong.

I ended up bursting into tear right before math class one Wednesday because I didn't know how to deal with what I was going through. I didn't know how to ask for help. Logically speaking, you won't ask for help when you can't even realize you need it. You'll keep going, coping with whatever mechanisms you choose, until one day it comes down crashing around you. 

Then you will hit rock bottom. There is no avoiding this. You will find yourself down there, and it nothing more than a matter of time. Sometimes people will want to help you, other times, they won't. Whether they are scared themselves, or they couldn't see the signs, or maybe you put up too many walls... You'll be alone. Only you can help yourself out of it. Luckily, it doesn't take much. All you have to do is ask.

As a young woman growing up, I identified with a lot with Amy. If you set aside the root, pain is pain. She was in pain, it was very clear from her music. She created something beautiful out of it. I wasn't so crafty. I don't even know why I'm writing this piece. I know that had if I were to read something like this when I was out of it, it wouldn't have changed anything for me. I don't know know if it will change anything for you. No one can help you if you don't let them. It's as simple as that.

Reach out. I did, and it helped.

S.