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sweettaylormd-blog · 4 years ago

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“Did I ruin things? Was it even me? Isn’t it always me? Was there even something there to ruin?”

It was a dark, rainy Monday morning as X sat at her desk and pondered these questions. Was there something wrong with her? Was she the one to subconsciously push everyone away because she feared commitment? Or did she just get involved with men whose plans didn’t align with hers?

She sat at her desk, tapping, fidgeting, checking her phone… Doing anything but work. She was distracted, distant, and confused. The anxiety crept in with her leg bouncing up and down, the pit in her stomach, and her inability to focus. She has been living the last few weeks on autopilot. Moving very quickly, surrounding herself with people and substances, and not taking a minute to process. But here she is, alone on a Monday morning, forcing herself to feel what she’s been trying to numb. The act of healing is a lonely one.

She had an innumerable amount of questions to ask herself, to ask him, to ask the universe. She was hell bent on getting answers but, first, she needed to figure out the questions.

She was never the type to harp on an old subject. She was accustomed to moving on very quickly in all aspects. Her life was a pattern of picking up a new toy, becoming excited, gradually getting bored, letting it go and finding something new to occupy her time. Very few things had the ability to hold her attention. She liked options, she liked freedom, she liked not being locked into one specific thing. She was extremely loyal to everyone in her life, she just feared attaching herself to something or someone else. She has given the same advice to her friends, her coworkers, or drunk girls at a random bar about to text their ex; and that is: “You must belong to no one but yourself.” She believed in that statement wholeheartedly and has stuck to it intensely over the last decade.

That’s why she was in a state of uncertainty when it came to him. She felt herself letting him in to so many dimensions of her life, ones that have been closed off for so long, but it came so natural. She was always reserved, closed off, aloof. She made herself available to know the darkest secrets of so many people, but hardly ever shared hers. She liked it that way. But he came along unexpectedly, and, with a minimal amount of time, had her opening up in more ways than one. Something about it just felt right, and that’s what scared her.

She felt the distance creeping in long before they discussed it. She felt the chill, the sudden change of wind. A woman always knows. She felt herself becoming a part of the past. A part of her is no longer alive - no longer alive in the life of someone. There was a lot of space. And she’s filled that space with things and people. But you can’t put a door in place of a dam and contain the river. And you can’t substitute salt for sugar and enjoy the cake. Some things are not meant to be replaced, they are just meant to be enjoyed while they last.

It’s not him, she thought, it’s the hurt that lingers in his wake. It’s the unresolved emotions that are erupting inside of her. It’s the past that she tried to bury pushing its way to the surface. She knows that this has nothing to do with him, and she doesn’t want that to become misconstrued. This has nothing to do with him. She knows that someone could never hold that much power over her. She knows that he never meant any harm.

There was one thing she knew for sure, and it was that the connection they shared was real, it was undeniable. They each could have perceived it differently, of course, and they did, but there was a powerful force of energy that was shared. One in which she doesn’t believe they’ll find in anyone else. The spiritual side of her would like to think they’ll always be connected in some way, regardless of which paths they choose to take.

She heard he was seeing someone new. Her gut feeling, coupled with the source, made her believe that this time it wasn’t a string of lies that she was used to being fed.

He assumed he was in a space to move on. It was inevitable for both of them.

Her mind wanders.

“Was there even anything to move on from?”

She had created this idea in her mind that was not parallel with his reality. They were going through the same motions, same conversations, same interactions; but the meaning behind all of it was completely different to both of them.

She sat with this information for a while, she dove deep into the depths of what she thought it meant. Until she realized that it has nothing to do with her – just like her issues have nothing to do with him. They are living the lives they have created, lives that are an aftershock of experiences and people and places who came before them. Unique experiences and perceptions alter one’s reality.

She couldn’t fault him for moving on, whatever that meant, because the idea crossed her mind and she unintentionally explored it. Someone unforeseen had kissed her, and while she didn’t initiate or expect it, she didn’t back away. She leaned forward, locking lips with this man, and felt nothing. It left a bitter taste in her mouth for days to follow. She knew she wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready to let go of the past, to let someone in, or to care. She wasn’t ready to fall into the same patterns that have preceded this one. She has played this game for far too long, different opponents and all, and she knew exactly how it ended.

She used to view love as a game. A game in which someone has the upper hand, where it’s a constant back-and-forth competition. She doesn’t think she has ever been in love, in fact, she knows she hasn’t. Being in love is unfamiliar to her, but the idea of love is definitely not. She feels deeply, she experiences life very passionately, she loves with her entire heart. And, proving her point again, it’s not about being in love with another person. This has nothing to do with anyone but herself. Her passion, her emotions, her strength, her love – has everything to do with her loving herself and the life she’s creating. She romanticizes the world around her so deeply with her rose colored glasses. She knows that the life she wants is reachable and she doesn’t underestimate her power to grab hold of everything she wants.

She has always been this confident and secure. It’s rooted deep in her core. She knows every inch of herself, every dark corner, every bit of light. She’s a project that she’s been working on for decades. She became infatuated with learning about her behaviors, diving into her trauma, pulling everything to the surface and navigating how to become better. That’s why his words were a punch in the gut, almost like he didn’t realize how forceful, how powerful, how divine her energy was.

He said, “I don’t want to sour you.”

Sour.

Sour

The intentions of that sentence were pure, there was no doubt about that, but he knew her better than to think anything could shake the solid foundation she spent years building.

But sour wasn’t unfamiliar to her. It was sewn into her past. She experienced the highs that tasted as sweet as the first lick of your favorite ice cream on a hot summer day, but that usually came with an aftershock that left an acidic taste in her mouth. It was sharp, it was powerful, it was painful. It was sour.

She knew sour like the back of her hand. She knew the discomfort, she knew the uneasiness, she knew the grief. Oh, she knew sour. She took it in, she grappled with it, she learned every part of it, but she never let it change her.

“You must belong to no one but yourself.”

She remained optimistic, she remained whole and complete, she remained pure despite the poison that she was usually left with.

And that was never going to change.

But this was different. He was different. There was no poison. There was no bitter taste. Sour didn’t exist here. He did nothing hurtful, nor did she. This is the first time a situation has ended, or changed, rather, where there is no resentment or anger. No hostile actions fueled by animosity and rage that one would come to later regret. It was calm. It was two people coming to a mutual understanding while still keeping a solid friendship intact. The people looking in from the outside were much more toxic than the two of them. But they weren’t the type to entertain the drama of people beneath them. She was figuring out how to continue on this changed path. The adoration for this person was still there, it just had to be executed in a different manner. She had asked for honesty and respect, and he showed her both of those things in tremendous depths. They were both very honest but yet very sensitive with their approach to one another. Anyone could sense that they could never be malicious toward each other. She had always known that not everyone will reciprocate your exact energy, and she was okay with that as long as it’s done respectfully; and in the case of these two people, there was never anything less.

She has been toying with the idea of questions and answers, as if she could ever get an answer that she would be satisfied with. How can she heal from an answer given by a person whose perception was different? She once heard you must respect the time it takes to heal. Respect. Not acknowledge, not understand, but respect. And so, as if there were ever an alternative, she will lay herself at the mercy of time, it’s cruelty only appearing in the form of the inevitable, but its tenderness bearing all possibilities. And, while she just spent hours writing about how she came to terms with the actions of other people having little to nothing to do with her, the answer to that undefeatable, reoccurring question of “is it me?” is yes. She is unapologetically the center of her world, so, yes, this is all about her. It’s about her ability to understand, and respect, the different viewpoints of others. It’s about how she gracefully takes each experience and applies it to the world around her. It’s about how she can use these lessons to impact the next wave of people she will surround herself with. It’s about taking the broken glass and making art. It’s about solving the riddles of life.

Because she’s smart enough to know things run their course and eventually the earth tilts,

and seasons change,

and new life grows.

And that all of this only ever existed in her head.

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sweettaylormd-blog · 5 years ago

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“There’s water in the flowers, let’s grow.”

Have you ever felt like your thoughts were taking up too much space in your head? To the point where you can’t even complete a thought because there is a whirlwind of a mess inside your mind? I’ve felt that way since Malcolm’s passing.

I used to write, a lot. It helped me cope with stress, but also intensified my happiness. At some points, it was helpful to others to know that what they are feeling is not abnormal, or weird, or different. But after Malcolm’s passing, my mind shut down. For the first time in my life, I truly understood the meaning of anxiety and being overwhelmed even by the simplest tasks. A task as simple as completing a thought. I felt like I was drowning and I felt this way for a very long time.

It’s difficult to be depressed when you are so self aware. All of my life, I have been an advocate of creating your own reality and your thoughts becoming things. I believe that if you want something bad enough, and you put in the time, effort, and work - you could do anything. Having faith, believing in a higher power, being one with the universe, whatever you want to call it - it’s real. That’s why being in such a deep depression, for me, was so hard. I was very aware that if I had changed my thought process, if I had changed my daily routine, that I would change my state of mind. However, my body and mind felt numb. I’ve referred to it as being in a coma. You can hear people talking to you, you know that they are there, but you can’t physically do anything about. I knew the right steps to take to pull myself out of this space, but I could not physically do it at the time. It took me awhile, but day by day I started to heal. I’ve learned that grief is not a straightforward path. There are good days and bad. You could be having an excellent day and then a memory punches you right in the gut and knocks the wind right out of you. I’m learning to just accept it. All you can do is accept the good and the bad and everything in between. Malcolm taught me that feeling every emotion is important and to embrace them all equally. This chapter of life without him here has been all about growth. Growing out of a depression, growing to cope with emotions, growing to appreciate everything and everyone in my life because you never know when it will all be gone.

I have a note written in my phone from my second trip to Pittsburgh. I wanted to write about it, but again, mind numbing experiences made me incapable. I couldn’t form sentences about what Pittsburgh meant to me, so I wrote words. The note says, “Awakening. Spiritual. Peaceful. Self aware. Understanding. In touch with your soul.” Pittsburgh was beautiful and the energy I felt was so real, so raw, so intense. It was so beautiful, yet so emotional. It’s similar to ripping open a healing wound just to watch it heal again, and I was okay with that. I was okay with that because it meant I already healed, or at least was in the process. The difference between a new wound healing and a reopened wound healing is that you know how to heal, you know it WILL heal, and you have braced yourself for the steps that follow. Like I said, it’s very weird to be in a very good head space, but also in a dark place.

Visiting Pittsburgh was one of the greatest things I’ve ever done. I grew up seeing the city in Malcolm’s videos, hearing him speak so highly about it, and hearing that it’s a great city for ten years. Great is an understatement. I love Pittsburgh with my whole heart and soul. But walking those streets, all I heard was Malcolm’s voice in my head. I pictured him at all of the places I passed by. I used to tell him that the first time I would visit Pittsburgh, I wanted him to show me around and hook me up with all the good spots. Some places were an obvious go-to such as Blue Slide Park, Primanti’s, Jerry’s Record Store, Allderdice, and Frick Park Market. I got to share stories with Maggie and John, the owners of Frick Park Market. They told me stories about Malcolm from when he was about 15 years old up until he passed. They told me the story about him shooting the video in their store. I was able to tell them how I became a fan and how, eventually, Malcolm and I got to know each other. They told me that every fan they have met resembled Malcolm because they are all so nice, kind, and respectful. Although I am biased, I have to agree. My heart is so full of love for the macheads. A lot of us met when we were preteens and watched each other grow, graduate, start families, start jobs, move out of state, etc. Some people we have met recently but felt like we’ve known forever. The most important thing, though, is that we created these relationships with people all over the world that are genuinely concerned about our mental health, about our lives, about us. We bonded over Malcolm, but it became so much more. We have people in our lives that actually care, and that is amazing.

It’s such a beautiful thing that everyone has their own experiences with Malcolm, however, everyone shares the same opinion. He is the nicest, kindest, sweetest soul who has a heart of gold. I remember him saying that if he met someone just a couple of times, he felt as if they were best friends. That was the exact energy Malcolm sent out. He and I were able to have some really good conversations and got to see each other a handful of times - but every interaction was important and meaningful. He took the time to ask questions, to go out of his way, to make you feel important. There will never be anyone in this world to compare to him and I am so blessed, so thankful, and so happy that I got to witness his career from the beginning and be alive at the same time as him.

Thinking back on 10 years worth of memories with Malcolm, Most Dope, and the macheads make me so happy and so nostalgic, but’s heartbreaking knowing that we can never have those times back. My emotions fluctuate constantly, but right now, in this moment, I am happy. This new album makes me happy and gives me some sense of closure. It’s helping me grow. I keep it on repeat and I haven’t heard anything else since Friday. There’s so many layers to this record and I learn something new each time I play it. I wanted to share my top three favorite tracks, but in all honesty, it changes every day and it’s so hard to pick just three. Malcolm was headed in such a beautiful direction musically, professionally, and personally. He was making the music he always wanted to make. He was finding himself as a person, and, more importantly, loving who that person was. My heart hurts not being able to see what was next. I always imagined all of us being in our fifties and sixties, going to Malcolm’s jazz concerts, and talking about all the memories we shared. But life had different plans, I guess. One thing I know for sure is that even though he is not physically here, we will all keep his legacy alive and never let his name go unheard. It’s our responsibility to share our stories about him, share his music, and to simply be as kind and generous and loving as he was. There will never be another Mac Miller.

“There’s water in the flowers, let’s grow.”

#mac miller #macheads #most dope #malcolm mccormick #malcolm james mccormick

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sweettaylormd-blog · 6 years ago

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Dear Malcolm

Dear Malcolm,

It’s a rainy, chilly (for July) day here in New York. I’m in my bed, on my computer, with my candles lit and listening to your music. Of course, as I am typing this, REMember started playing. You send me a lot of signs and I am so thankful for that. I see them all, some are more obvious than others but I am always looking. I am always talking out loud to you and it’s nice to feel your energy around, especially when I am feeling sad and broken. I’ve been sad, torn down, and broken ever since you left. My thoughts have been jumbled in my head and some days I can’t even think straight. I have felt almost every single emotion that is known to human kind. I have been angry, depressed, broken, happy, successful, heartbroken, strong, brave, scared, tired... but I always come back to one emotion: sad. It’s hard to celebrate the strengths and successes in life when a huge, essential, necessary piece has been ripped away in a blink of an eye. You are that piece, Malcolm. It hurts because I can hear your voice telling me not to be sad. I can hear your voice telling me to keep thriving and keep growing and keep being so strong - but sometimes it’s just so damn hard. I try my best to keep from drowning because I hear your voice saying, “keep swimming.”

During the first few months after you left, I was angry. I was furious that you weren’t here anymore. I kept thinking there was something I could have done, something I could have said, anything that would have kept you here. As time passed, I outgrew the anger. What was the one and only thing I ever wanted for you? For you to be at peace, for you to be happy, for you to be free in every sense of the word. That is what you are now. You are peaceful, you are no longer fighting any demons you may have faced along the way. You fought a battle in your head, with your demons, and whatever else may have crossed you. You fought so long, so hard, and you did a great job; but the fight is over and now you get to float in peace with a clear mind. This does not make me any less devastated, any less heartbroken, or hurt any less; but it does give me some kind of comfort knowing you are okay and resting.

I have changed a lot in the last ten, almost eleven, months that you have been gone. I think I became a way better person. When you left, I realized the world wasn’t ready to lose someone so pure, so beautiful, so kind, so selfless. You were, you ARE, a light that brightens up so many lives, you are the love that the world is in desperate need of, you are happiness. I read something that said, “be the things that you miss most about the people who are gone.” Those are the things I miss the most about you, so I am trying my hardest to spread the love you had, to check in on people, to make somebody laugh on a bad day, to be that light that you taught me how to be. In the last ten years, you have taught me so much and I am forever grateful for you.

I am grateful that I got to see you in your truest form, performing, almost twenty times. I am grateful that I got to experience the very beginning of your career, I am grateful that I got to know you and you got to know me. I am grateful for your entire family being there for me while they are grieving - the selflessness is hereditary, I see. I am grateful for the laughs we shared, the memories we made, and the friends that turned into family because of you. I am eternally grateful. I will never let your name go unheard. I will make sure everybody knows the impact you had on this world. Although my heart will never stop aching, I will keep your legacy going forever. You are a legend.

I love you best friend, forever. Thank you for everything.

God Speed.

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