The Transformation (Actually Coping)

Surviving that abusive relationship, and growing into this new Harvey I felt liberated yet again. I made new actual friends that weren't part of my family (blood related or extended) and they kept me pretty busy and distracted from the terror and trauma so recently endured. I was not at all complaining. I had Rosalyn, who was always happy and positive and welcoming. Shanti, who kept me connected to my craft and music in general. And, Mike, who was my very first gay male friend who was overall all of those things and even more. He was not just my friend but also my mentor. He grew up with access to a gay community so he had no problem helping me navigate through that part of my life and frankly helping me find who that person was or wanted to be. They were like the three kings, or queens rather.

I had roommates for the first time. I was brand new. I didn't think too much about dating cause I just wanted to have fun and not be hurt ever again. I owe a lot of who I am today to them because they in a way saved me. I still tell them every chance I get to this day as they have become part of my circle, my family. My support system was naturally building and working for me before I even knew it. These were such happy days for me. I had a fantastic career working in non-profit in the mental health sector (go figure).

At this point in time, I completely embraced my art. Music. Writing. I was growing so much and expelling what little experiences I had at the root through my creativity and it was beautiful. Creating music became exactly what it was always meant to be for me, cathartic. Every facet of it was like a pill. Writing was like my anti-depressant. Singing was like my anti-anxiety. Playing was like my mood stabilizer. I could go on and on. Needless to say, I finally found the remedy. Thinking back it's really been the only thing to keep me sane and that deep mysterious and indescribable feeling suppressed. Thank god for music and words. I cringe and cry just thinking about someone who has to endure depression that doesn't have a creative bone in their body. I would actually like to believe that there is no such person.

In due time, I got comfortable enough again to "date." Not many of those relationships lasted long but when significant ones passed I allowed myself to endure the pain but only allotted myself so much time. In a round about estimation, my sadness only lasted about a week. That was right about on the border of when I would start to feel that deep familiar feeling and as long as I didn't get there it was easy to snap right back. I actually had a pretty good handle on it if I say so myself, ask Mike he'll tell you. From love's embrace to heartache, I anticipated it all so that I could put it in a little capsule and put it away. That capsule was a song. My song.

Til next time,

Harvey.