The painful visuals have been rushing in like it was yesterday. It actually feels like yesterday, but to be exact... it was 6 months ago. I have been going through the motions these last six months, but to be honest I feel like I’ve lost any semblance of time. I have a hard time connecting to the space around me. I have an even harder time connecting to the people around me. My body is numb and I can’t seem to shake it. I guess the dissociativeness is not a surprising sign of PTSD, but it definitely doesn’t make it any easier knowing that. I guess what I’m saying is time is just a bookmark, but moments can be seared and blurred into your neurons... and sometimes those neurons will dance around in your head even when you don’t want them to. Here’s the beginning of that dance:
Michael and I had been gone for vacation, a trip to Bermuda for a family wedding. It was wonderful, but I remember laying in the hotel bed saying to Michael that for as nice as it was to get away, that I was excited to get back to you and our friends. I missed you. Somehow over the course of the last 3 years you became an extension to our relationship, and I wouldn’t have traded it for anything. We got you some souvenir Bermudian sauces and made our trip home. We didn’t hear from you or see you the first two days home, but we had figured you may have been hanging out with your lady.
Right around now (as I write this) was the last time we would see you. I forget so many things in my life, but this is one that’s not going anywhere... along with the next two days of memories. It was Thursday evening. Dark out (as it was October), cold, and wet. Michael and I had our hands stuffed with “back from vacation” groceries and it was raining. We closed the trunk and the dogs ran towards us in the parking lot, I was so excited to see them. We walked towards the door (basically our own personal front door as only 3 of us use it) and you were standing inside, waiting for Sage and Turk to go to the bathroom, avoiding the rain. It was freezing out, but you were in shorts and the short sleeve hoodie I had recently bought you. (for the record I wasn’t sure of the whole short sleeve hoodie phase thing, but I know you were so proud of your physical progress and wanted to show it off so I didn’t ask questions) You opened the door for us and set the stage. In the exact same spot you and I had our first conversation, little did I know we’d now be having our last.
Once we got out of the rain and I got a good look at you I remember seeing your bloodshot eyes and unhesitantly, yet concerningly saying “Em you look like shit.” Your first reply was “Yeah, I haven’t slept in days.” as you scratched the side of your head and avoided eye contact. As excited as we were to see you, you didn’t seem the same... which was alarming. Not your normal self, but we knew all the stress that was on your table. Your Colorado job interview was tomorrow morning (Friday). Both Michael and I were dreading it. We didn’t want you to go and we had told you that, but as your best friends we didn’t push it because that's not what a supportive friend does, right?
I figured your dissociativeness was in part because you were physically drained from your lack of food and working out from reversing out of your recent body building show. It was the first time either Michael or I felt genuinely disconnected from you. We kept chatting for a couple minutes, but through your words you weren’t mentally present, it was obvious. We told you to “come pop over”... words we’ve said countless times seeing as you basically lived in our apartment with us. “The boys” were in the hallway with us sitting patiently in front of our apartment, noses to the door, wagging their tail as we talked. Clear as day and in your exact voice from that night I’ve replayed the following words in my head about a thousand times...
Em: “I’m actually going to get to bed, I’m exhausted. Come on boys” (he motioned them to come.)
Me: “I totally understand. You definitely need some rest.” I giggled as the boys were being stubborn and didn't want to leave my side.
Em: “Boys” you said a little louder and more sternly, standing at your door.
Michael: “Well come over tomorrow!” (Michael went in our apartment to put groceries away)
Me: “Yeah, please. Come over tomorrow, we’ll catch up.” we both stood in the hall near our doors with a silent pause. I felt it. It was as if you wanted to rush back into your place, but you also didn’t want to leave.
Em: “Yeah, we’ll catch up tomorrow.” you said with a slight smirk on your face, still avoiding eye contact.
I remember standing in the hall watching the boys hesitantly head back in, and standing there watching you slug back in too... as if I was frozen and everything was in slow motion. I remember standing in the hall for another second after that. I remember my apartment door closing behind me, and me standing in my own hallway for another second, heavy groceries still in hand, lost in space, not computing, not knowing.... yet knowing... that something was off.
Although we just got groceries we wanted to run up to Boaz before they closed... we were cutting it very close, it was nearly 8. We rushed to put the groceries away and rush back out, but I said to Michael “something’s not right. Em seems really down. We need to text him.” so on the way to Boaz I asked Michael if I could text you from his phone since Michael was driving. I reached out, pointing out that something was off. You reassured us that you were okay, sobriety wasn't at risk, and that you were just going through a rough spot.
Me: Understandably. Just know that we’re there for you through thick and thin. We all have times like that and they’re never fun, but you're right... you’ll get through it. You’ll come out better on the other side. You always have.”
You: I agree. It just sucks going through it that's for damn sure.
You took your life the next morning.
tangentwithtanner
janainaart
discoholicmusic
blakekathryn
andulkaphoto
snowghoul
turnnoffyourmind
germansingergirl
