Onion Life

Or life as an onion. Either way, it describes me. A seedless bulb, wrapped in layers, resting in the dirt, considering the sky. It doesn’t have to be precise, just to get the point across. It also describes the heaviness I carry in my head. Most would call it depression. I just call it having an onion head. And the weight varies from day to day, week to week, situation to situation. Get me to a point where I’m feeling overwhelmed and fearing that the wheels are about to come off, and the weight gets heavy and over I fall. And once down, I stay awhile. Or some days, I wake up and it’s as if a thin, fine onion skin has covered my head, and I spend the morning wandering in a daze until I realize the skin can be easily peeled away. And, often, on those days, I’m okay with not seeing clearly, at having an altered point of view. I like the warm buzz, the feeling of swimming underwater in a gentle pool. Although awake, I am hidden. Don’t let anyone ever tell you depression doesn’t have an upside. It certainly does. It’s where I stumble on some really strong creative images and thoughts. I think it’s also some sort of self-protective mechanism. Growing up amidst chaos, a very logical option was shutting down, retreating. And after awhile, it gets real comfortable and safe. It still is. Give me a weekend where I can shut down, retreat, I’m in heaven.

Of course there is the downside, when my head is left underground for too long, it goes bad. I forget there is a sun, the sky. I focus only on the grinding dirt and become preoccupied with rot. I’ve suffered a rotten head a number of times in my life. The first that I really can identify was in my early twenties. That one hung around for years until I finally found help through therapy and by beginning to take acting classes. The therapy has been off and on through the years. The acting classes led to an unknown passion and the discovery of a form of writing that made sense – plays.

In 2001, as a long-term relationship came to an end and then my job did the same, I went down the old road again. And only a few years after, I lost my balance again and went down really hard. The onion in my head had simply grown too fat and round. There is no doubt that age and body chemistry play their part, but, it also had to do with being disobedient to God’s will, a true purpose, a path. I wanted! I had made Chicago home. I would not leave! So, God covered me with soil until I figured out the problem was me. So, I moved back to Atlanta. Through a lot of good work with a great counselor, some medication, help of family and a miraculous new network of friends, I have healed and even grown strong.

But I still have an onion head. I’m learning to see it as a blessing. In an immediate world, I walk a step behind, moving slowly. The light is different, the sounds not the same – I hear trains, my breath, the muffled murmur of eternity. I am God’s. Only he knows what to do with an onion head. My job is to keep upright, to maintain balance and to do my part in helping to create this onion life.