Saturday, August 6, 2011


Sometimes I feel as though my life is on fast forwards.

As though someone, somewhere, has DVR'd my goings on or programmed me into the Sims and has set my entire life onto super-restless fast. And in doing so allowed every moment, every breath, to blur together in one fuzzy smudge of a brush stroke on the canvas of my life—that terrifies me.

Not a lot of people know this, except for my family and closest friends, but I've struggled with depression for a number of years. Since I was about fifteen. Depression caused by my unrelenting anxiety and fear.

God it is hard to admit that. That I'm afraid. Of everything.

My depression is something I hate. I really don't have any reason to be depressed, I've got a great family, good friends, and am blessed in ways that words could never measure. And yet I am. It is beyond frustrating. I cannot stand how my anxiety, fear, and subsequent depression have taken moments from me. Have bound me so tightly in the recesses of my own mind I fail those I care about.

I've missed events and parties because I was so anxious I became physically ill. I've retreated so far into the caverns of my own mind, and in doing so abandoned those I loved when they needed me. Most notably, for those of you on the blogsphere my periods of absence and posts that are broken trains of thought.

Other things too though, that aren't visible through the words here. I've read, and reread emails from my blogger friends, unable to type a response for fear someone will see through my words and recognize me for the coward I am. I've read and reread manuscripts that I was asked to beta, adding notes and critiques each time, but am unable to put them into the computer for fear my fellow writer will feel it is not enough, think that what I suggest is naive, has no worth because of my age or a plethora of other reasons that cause me to second guess myself. And so instead of sending out those betas, I tuck them away in my desk and read them on days where I can't find the strength or story to lift my pen and feel as though there is no hope of publication. Rereading them gives me hope, because my brave friends have the kind of gumption and bravery I do not. Friends I let down because despite my admiration for them and their kindness and understanding, I was afaid what I had to say was more insignificant than saying nothing at all. So I chose silence.

And so I apologize to those friends. To Jade, Mariah, K.M., Sara, and my InkSlingers, Bethany M., Bethany R., Ella and Aaron. I may have failed myself but that is nothing compared to how I have failed you.

I've tried to write this a thousand times. After I dropped of the face of the blogsphere last fall, and my reappearence this spring that has since been sporadic at best.

But the thing is, I'm here to stay. I will not let my fear win. I will not allow myself to become a synical old woman whose outlook on life is nothing but negative. Who goes to the same dead end job every day, despite the fact that she went to the college of her dreams, and who remains in the same abusive relationship because she is afraid to be alone. Change is scary, and she is miserable because she is afraid. I have seen her, and she is never happy, rarely smiles, and I will not become her.

I've realized no matter what, change happens. And most of the time it is scary.

I am coming to terms with that fear. I am going to fight tooth and nail to change. to change my fear into courage, my procrastination into productivity and my stagnation into action.

For as hard as it was to type all of this, it finally feels good to get it off my chest and allow myself to breathe. I cannot make up for the time my fear took from me, nor will any amends I attempt to make make up for how I have failed my friends. But I will try, because I am done with feeling terrified all the time.

This is my apology to you, whoever may still read this blog, and my friends, who I've failed. I am trying to be better, and it may take time—no it will take time everything does, who am I kidding?—but I am trying. And that has to count for something. At least I hope it does.


K. M. Walton said...

Hayley, how you feel is real, HOWEVER, you, my brave friend, have courage. Proven, real courage. I'd like you to take yourself back into the mindset of the Hayley who boldly asked the boy from French class to the prom. That girl - YOU - is brave and confident. That moment - your moment - is real and tangible. Don't forget that.

And I am in no way trying to diminish your feelings of failure, but you have not failed me in any way. On the contrary, you fine young woman, you have brought me happiness in your genuine and enthusiastic comments on
my blog.

Keep heading into the light, Hayley.

Hayley Lovell said...

K.M.- I had forgotten that, thank you for reminding me and for your kind words. I really appreciate it Kate.

K. M. Walton said...

Hey...I've passed along the Liebster blog award to you. Check out my blog : )