This book is my story. So, it's not very pretty. It's kinda ugly actually. This is about my recovery process, and how I'm defeating my anxiety and depression.
There's some poems, letters to myself, life stories, songs, depressing stories, inspiratio...
So, many of you know that I have a thing with music. Music has been a source of comfort to me for many years. That ukulele, was my baby.
I took care of it, put it in its case every night, cleaned it with a wet wipe every day. I made sure to tune it at least three times a day. I also made sure that almost NO ONE touched it. I loved that thing like someone would love their own child.
I would write and play songs that described how I felt. It was my way of expressing my feelings WITHOUT cutting or having a panic attack. Even before I was diagnosed, music was always there.
I've been playing ukulele for almost three years now, and I've had my own ukulele for two.
It was an Ellen model, an electric ukulele. It was such a BEAUTY! When I got it for Christmas last year, I cried. I cried because of how beautiful it was.
Look at it.
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The head of the ukulele broke off today.
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It's also called the headstock. It broke CLEAN OFF, to the point of no return. (I accidentally fell off my bed and landed on it when it was in its case. hOW DOES THAT HAPPEN??)
When I heard the crack, I knew deep down what happened. I ran down the stairs, crying. I cried for a solid HOUR.
I almost cried as much as when my first boyfriend broke up with me, which was a lot.
I called my friend, and cried. I watched YouTube, and cried. I tried to stop crying, and I cried.
In basic terms, I cried.
HOWEVER!
My dad was actually nice enough to buy me a cheaper ukulele! It's nowhere NEAR as amazing as my baby, but it will get me by until this upcoming Christmas.
I will always miss my baby, and all of the good memories that were made.
Playing All Star by Smash Mouth...
Learning entire musicals...
Serenading the love of my life...
Learning every song known to man...
Writing my own songs...
Playing my own songs...
And the comfort I felt of being able to play an emotional song when I was upset, and feel understood and accomplished. It was NOTHING like what I felt when I just SANG a song.
Anyways, rest in pieces, my beautiful ukulele. You will love heaven, and you will probably be best buds with all of the other broken instruments up there.
Now that I realize it, we are all a little broken...
Maybe I'm not alone after all.
Anyways...
Rest in piece Rosemarie, you will be missed, always.
