I admit I don't often preface my writings, but I feel I need to do so in this case. What you are about to read was written 10 years ago, at the lowest point in my life. Even now I still struggle with stress issues and what I will politely call melancholy, though it really has a rather unromantic sounding and very real medical name.
At this moment which you are about to read, I truly and completely was broken and had lost pieces of myself I wasn't sure I would ever regain. It rambles, yes, but this was truly me, sitting in front of a screen and trying vainly to make sense of the mess I was inside.
I never published this, as it is a very real look into a dark and bleak time. In my life I have always tried to present myself with just the sunny bits showing, leaving the ugliness inside and covered up. But we cannot live like that for always. Life is full of both the good parts and the bad. It's a balancing act that sometimes feels like it is tipped for the worst and will never recover, but that is just how depressive conditions tend to see things.
This one is going to be a two-parter. Part one, which you are about to read, is the bleakness. Part two, which will come in a day or so, will be how I am today, a decade later. This week's theme, surprising, given the subject matter, is ALIVE. It is my hope that by the time this week's theme is drawn again sometime in the future, that I can revisit this. With a lot of work and some good kharma on my side, I have high hopes (and fingers crossed) that maybe next time I will truly be as sunny as I like people to believe I always am.
Not all wounds are visible. Sometimes I wish they were… if someone were to see me walking around with the gaping hole where my heart once was, they could not possibly fail to acknowledge my pain was real… that my grief, was a blackness that overwhelmed me, often without warning.
I feel as if I was stumbling through my days in a fog. I can't remember what I ate (or if I ate), I double and triple check myself to be sure that I have not somehow forgotten to put on a shirt or socks or some other necessary garment, because I can't stop recognizing that a large part of me is now missing. I wander into stores in a daze and wander out again with a cartload of groceries, not even certain what I just purchased or if I even remembered to buy the necessities (cat food, deodorant)… I have no idea of how long I had been in there, just wandering the aisles. I couldn't even remember when the last time was that I eaten a piece of fruit or something that was more healthy than bad.
It seems like its been years that I have been like this… This has been a very lousy year for me, and I, for one, am more than happy to see 2012 go and never rear its ugly head again. I have always considered myself fairly even-keeled, but this year really kicked me in the teeth.
I guess it really started just over a year ago. I got married; something that is supposed to be the happiest day of a girl’s life… and it was. But I had a lot of s
tress planning things out, and my load at work was increasing as well. I was in the ER the day before the wedding, and went back in the following weekend for stress-related issues. By the time Christmas rolled around I was a mess…. I was working insane hours and got to a point where I was crying from exhaustion and flying off the handle over any little thing because I JUST COULD NOT HANDLE ONE MORE THING ON ME RIGHT THEN.
We hired a co-worker and things eased up, but my stress levels were still a mess… so much so that my doctor put me on medications to help take the load off as my body was incapable, at that time, of regulating itself. I started easing up, stopped being so much of a witch, and, by summer I began to feel as if I was finally regaining some control over my life again….
….and then my brother died. The person who has known me the longest and, up to this point, best in this life. The one person who fills nearly every childhood memory I have..... and who I had grown to consider my best friend now that we were adults.
I admit I held it together for as long as I had to - and when I finally allowed myself to fall to pieces, all these months later, I did so with pretty spectacular results. I ended a friendship that had gone on for the majority of my life. I finally put my foot down to the people making so many demands on me and said “enough” (though I feel hideous for both actions). I spend my days feeling like I was falling to pieces all over again… and that’s probably not even close to being an accurate description of my state of mind.
I am a walking war zone…. there are days spent without bombs thrown by either side; I can look past the ruins and see the beauty that still exists around me. Other days the bombardment starts again and the world is nothing but loud noises, smoke and devastation. Steam rises from craters where once green meadows lay.
Maybe I am made up of glass.... so clear that you can see the fractures that run right through me. If you were to tap me would I ring hollowly, like a bell? Am I so delicate that the slightest wind would fracture me into a thousand pieces? Like Humpty Dumpty, there would be no putting my life together again into what it was before, because that girl is gone... just as the person who had always been there in my life is gone. Gone to a place that I am unable to follow at this time. I know that I will be with him again, but that does not make this broken thing that was my heart beat any easier.
I wonder some days if I should go into counseling…. But then, what would they tell me that I don’t already know?
I wonder if I should speak to my doctor about going back on the stress meds…. I sigh, and realize that I probably should. Anything is better than the wreck and ruin that I am now. I hate medications, but I have to admit that I am foundering a lot right now, and need something to help clear my head. I am sure that the holiday season isn't helping, since this was our favorite time of the year.... and I know that time will help heal the pains that I feel, but there will always be a scar where that missing piece once fit.
What a mess life can become when you least expect it. I should be happy, thrilling to the marriage that should still be in its honeymoon stage. Instead I find myself constantly in the dumps; crying hysterically in the car on my way home (I wonder what must go through the minds of the drivers around me who probably can’t help but notice the girl falling to pieces in the car alongside of them). The girl who freaks out with the least provocation. Who can’t seem to handle the least of tasks without feeling defeated… who can’t help but wonder if everyone around her is sick of watching her not regaining control and let all this go… the girl who wonders why the whole world isn't flooded by all the tears that she's shed.
I try to be kind to myself right now.... to allow myself the comfort that I don't want to trouble others for. I know that life will go on, and that while I am going to be in pain for a long time, that I will one day build a bridge over the hole that will remain. It still doesn't help me to stop missing you.... and missing the girl that I was when you were here.
I don't think I ever told you thank you enough for all you did for me... for all the times you listened... for all the times you cared. I miss you so much... even all the little things that used to annoy me I would gladly put up with again. But wishing isn't going to change things. Wishing will not bring back our weekly dinners.... or your "surprise" birthday parties for me where you would fill the house with all of your friends.... or the even less of a surprise parties where you'd give me a list of who all to invite for your own birthday. It would not bring back long talks... or the new closeness we started right before you went away. It will not bring back any of the countless things we shared over the course of our lives.
Beautifully wriiten.
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