Re-reading ‘Digging Up Mother’

I had another breakdown last night, after having had many over the past three months. I felt so lost. I decided to re-read ‘Digging Up Mother’ by Doug Stanhope today. I’d not read it since it first came out. But I remember it helped me when I felt lost back then too.

So many years have passed since I first read it, and though I’ve made progress in a lot of ways with my depression since then, it’s also a bit disheartening to realise how in other ways my life has remained stalled.

But I want to do better, or at least keep trying, I don’t want to be in self-sabotage mode again, I do want to do better now.

At the end of last year, and at the beginning of this year, I was doing well, at least in terms of my returning to making music I was excited about. It seems the past three months I’ve felt overwhelmed with what feel like new – social – challenges in life, and I think this has been why I’ve sort of lost my way again.

I hope the past three months have helped me to grow in some ways though. I’m not just saying that for the sake of platitudes, I really do think that some of the things that happened forced me to confront the low feelings of self-worth I’ve had since my accident. I think this confrontation has helped me to become a little better at trying to value myself again.

These past three months, I wish I could’ve been there more for my parents, as they’ve both been enduring their own health challenges, and I also wish I could’ve done better with completing my music projects and my dad’s documentary. But I do feel I have grown from the experiences I’ve had, so I hope it’s not been all bad. I really do want to do better.

Starting to re-read ‘Digging Up Mother’ today, it felt like coming home to something. The last time I read it, I remember it being such a journey. It’d been time spent with someone I could consider a friend when I’d keep away from people, it’d been time spent with someone who could make me laugh when not much could, it’d been time spent with someone I wanted to learn from, when there no longer seemed much point in learning anything about life anymore.

I remember thinking that the experience of reading the book had made living long enough to read it seem worth it. I remember not being sure I would be around by the time it came out. I wasn’t even hanging around specifically for it, each day feeling too much of a torture to hang around for just a book. It just so happened that I kept chickening out of ending my life enough times that I ended up still here for the book’s release.

So it felt like coming home, starting to re-read ‘Digging Up Mother’ again today. It felt like coming home to something good. I hope that as I continue re-reading the book, I’m reminded of how full life can be, and of what’s important. I know that’ll include me doing better at completing my projects and doing better at being there for my parents.