Free It's All About Him by Denise Jackson Page A

shower and relax on the bus until time for the show.
    Afterward, they often had pizza and beer brought to the bus. They’d debrief on the particulars of the show as they headed off to the next city, laughing at funny things that had happened, from missed notes, forgotten lyrics, or other train wrecks, to crazy things that extreme fans would do.
    When they went out to eat, one of the band members had the habit of getting into the restaurant first, ordering his food first, and expecting to get his order first so he could eat first. (Maybe he had issues about being a youngest child and had grown up hungry or something.) Alan would always quietly take the waiter aside, slip him some cash, and tell him to mess up this person’s order or to bring it out long after everyone else had been served. The guy never could quite figure out why, for years on the road, he was always served last. (Eventually Alan told him what he’d been doing, and the band all had a big laugh.)
    Aside from the camaraderie and acclaim on the road, Alan could also look forward to coming back to a real home done up in real style. This, too, was a reminder that he’d achieved his dreams, that his long-sought success and status were now a reality. All was well . . . at least as far as he was concerned.

Chapter 10
SPOTLIGHTS AND SHADOWS

    I tried to stay on the straight and narrow
But I’ve walked a crooked path
and I’ve felt worthy of forgiveness
and deservin’ heaven’s wrath
Right on the money and off by a mile
Ahead of my time and way out of style
    Harry Allen and Gary Cotton, “Life or Love”
    O f course I was happy about Alan’s career success. It was our dream come true. I laughed at his funny stories and was thrilled to hear his descriptions of packed arenas and cheering crowds.
    But his retelling of the stories wasn’t the same as living them. I had had lots of pictures in my mind of what success would look and feel like. And in all of them, I had envisioned that I’d be right by Alan’s side, or at least cheering from backstage, while we enjoyed the new adventures of his musical career. Instead, I was lost, confused, and at home with a baby who would not stop crying.
    In an attempt to make me feel better, Alan encouraged me to go get a new engagement ring. I couldn’t help but feel how different things were now than in the early days of our relationship. Years ago he had carefully saved, plotted, chosen, wrapped, and surprised me with my first small ring . . . and now he wasn’t able to even go with me to pick out a new one. We could afford a much bigger diamond—but the price was a lot less of my husband.
    I invited my friend Ame to come from Newnan to Nashville for a ring-designing visit. She tried her best to make it fun and to add some excitement to our outing to the jewelers. I chose a gorgeous two-and-a-half-carat marquis diamond with triangular diamonds on each side. As proud as I was of my new ring, I would have given it—or anything else—to feel relieved of my melancholy.
    Coming Out of the Blues
    I knew about postpartum depression, but having a label for it didn’t help. I was overwhelmed, with the feeling of a gray curtain draped over me. I could not just “get a grip” and feel better. I could go through the motions, but I could not imagine this dark fog ever lifting. What made it worse was that friends would tell me I had everything and should be the happiest woman in the world. Regardless of how I “should” feel, I felt alone, inadequate, and overwhelmed.
    After confiding in a few close friends, I decided to see my doctor. He helped me deal with some of the anxiety and post- partum issues, and prescribed medication that eventually cleared the clouds of depression. With my brain chemistry in balance, I was finally able to deal with basic things like furniture, and I was able to enjoy some of the fruits of the success we had sought for so