I havenāt done this in a while...Ā
Iāve been okay. I mean I have the best friends in the entire world watching my back. I have a support system that some people dream about when dealing with grief. I really donāt know if I would have survived the last 8 months without them. In fact, I can 100% say Iād probably be in a psych ward to this day if I didnāt have them. Because I guarantee my suicide attempt wouldnāt work, Nate said it was too hard for me to do. I believe him... he is the strongest person I know and he did it the worst way possible.Ā
With that said... I have bad insomnia a lot of the time. I lay in bed for hours scouring the internet for something to get my mind as far away as possible. Every time I look at the clock and see itās 4 in the morning I think..Ā āJust 10 more hours until I can go to work.ā Right now work is the only thing keeping my mind grounded. Itās the only thing that is tangible, set schedule, canāt back out now because I want to be reliable. Itās not that I truly care about a pizza chain, anyone could do what I do. I have PTSD. Going means that Iām not breaking my promise of showing up to work. Covering for people means that I help them not break their promise to the store by no one being there. Being at work means I donāt have to be in my actual reality for long periods of time.Ā
When I finally sleep... I never want to wake up. Itās always a few hours, never a long sleep. But Iāll stay in bed for 14 hours straight looking at nothing and call myselfĀ āwell restedā. I have depression. That means if my mind doesnāt want me to live today, I pretend the day doesnāt exist. I hate my depression more than my PTSD. I know my depression, Iāve had it for a lot longer. I know when I need to call my best friend and tell her to get me out of bed. I know when I need someone to help me. Lately, itās been a lot. Iāve exhausted my friends, havenāt given back enough energy to them. Honestly, I donāt know how. My therapist said I need to write a list of things I feel like Iām fucking up. Start low priority and work my way up to the things that are the hardest. So I did that, well started it. Eight months since you left, and my life still feels like itās in chaos.Ā
So I ramble, at 4 in the morning, because smoking weed doesnāt help much anymore. At least not this back ally shit Iāve been getting recently. Iāve contemplated taking the drugs the psychiatrist wanted to give me. Every time it ends the same way. I canāt take them, not even the sleeping ones. Iād be asleep for weeks with one pill, even a fraction of it and Iām down for days. My therapist saidĀ āIt feels like youāre starting back at square one... but youāre not... are you?... Are you screaming out to him wanting to know why? Are you still thinking 24/7 about the reasons he gave you?ā.... No.... Iām not doing that anymore... I have accepted his answers in the notes he left me. I understand it back and forth, because Iāve picked it apart more times then I can truly even remember.Ā
But some nights, at 4 in the morning, I grip my chest because my heart hurts so bad. My eyes will be swollen shut from the tears that wonāt stop. I start looking into alternative tissues because I am probably killing the environment with how many I am using. But I take a selfie, put on some war paint, looks that hot mess kinda cute. Something I would have sent you. Like the ones you would send me. Sometimes the crying stops for 5-10 minutes at a time when I do that. My heart doesnāt feel like itās twisting in itself. Itās like the eye of the storm. You grab some more supplies (tissues, water, snacks, my cat) bunker down and get ready for the next wave.Ā āItās better this way, itās better to suffer these nights then die.ā You say that over, and over, and over, and over again. Hoping one day you might lie to yourself so much you think itās true. The reality is... I can push people away... I can lie to them and they would think nothing was wrong... I can do exactly what you did. Scary part is Iād pull it off too. Something inside of me doesnāt want to stop fighting though... And I think that makes me stronger than you. I never saw myself as the stronger one... I was always so emotionally weak, flimsy on decisions and scared of the future. You knew, you knew your future, who you are, what you wanted. So when you wanted death... you set the date and got it. The only selfish act youāve ever done was the most permanent. I am selfish, I always have been more than you. So I want to keep life, to see what happens in it like a movie. I am not selfish enough to make Amanda go through what I am going through. It wouldnāt be peace for me, if I killed myself. No one would be able to sayĀ āsheās not in pain anymore, sheās in a better place.ā Because even though yes, Iād be with you, that is so much better. My soul would still ache for what I did to them. I feel you, because I know yours does too. I just always had more compassion and empathy then you... empaths... sigh... I am actively living with the thought of wanting to die.Ā
Your body starts to exhaust itself around 6-7 in the morning. Iāll finally sleep, not because I am choosing to, but because I had to. I donāt see a future where this doesnāt repeat. Even when I am living with my best friend, in the house we built that is the safest place in the world for me. I will still, be here, at 5 in the morning writing. No matter where I was, how far I have come, or will go, these nights negate it all if I donāt survive them. Sometimes I wonder what itās like to not have to fight a few times a week to keep living. I wonder what those people have in their life that causes them emotional harm. I wonder if I could help them so they get a peace they didnāt know was right outside their window.Ā
I know not everything would be solved if you were here. But I miss you like hell. Your best friend misses you, our cats, your mother.... we wonāt ever stop missing you. I guess Iāll end this one here, I am sure I have rambled enough for one post. Now to try very hard not to look at photos, song playlists, old posts and writings... I doubt Iāll succeed at that. But Iām trying.