9 Months & Counting

December 12, 2014  11:37 PM

I’m hurt.  I am genuinely hurt. Words cannot describe how I feel or how hurt I am. I miss my best friend I truly do. The days are grower colder and the nights are getting longer, but the love for my friend will never freeze or become tarnish. I find myself randomly going about my day and all of a sudden in a blink of an eye a hollow tear will fall gracefully from my eye and sweep the dust particles away on my face. I weep and weep and weep, weeping that she will come back, praying that she will come back, and seeking that what she did was not true. Inevitable. My love for her is still whole, but a part of my heart died the day she took her own life. And so I sit and ponder, to wonder where was I in her deepest hour of need. Why was I not there to comfort and hold her beautiful hand? She’s not around to hold mine and so I too have thought about letting go. I think about the afterlife. Life after death. The palace of everlasting dreams and a painless retreat. I want to be there with her. To see her beautiful face as she grace the center stage and braces the coming storm with her powerful words. She was and is a fighter. She did not lose her battle to depression and bipolar. No. She fought the treason all the way to end. I am walking on a cold and shallow Earth; I am not the same anymore because she is no longer here to gallop through the field of bright yellow sunflowers in summer or roll around in the white powdery fluffy snow this winter. She is gone. They say ‘spirits leave the body after death and surround loved ones near and far’.  And she is with me. She is with us. I know because she shows herself in the little things. But I want to see her, that smile, those eyes, the nose, those fingernails. I need to hear voice. I need to hear her say ‘I love you babygirl’. I want to hug her and squeeze the air out of her chest and hear her yell , ‘Stoppp, you are crushing me’ and then kiss my nose. I am losing track of the number of tears I have shed because I miss her so much. But I have not and will not lose track of the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, and months she has left this blue and green Earth.

9 months & counting I am still hopeless, confused, depressed, sad, angry, miserable, numb, angry, and weak.

9 months & counting I still write your name in the upper right hand corner of my class notes.

9 months & counting I cry at 5:14 PM, the time I received the news that you were gone and I fell to my knees in disbelief and bawled like a newborn baby.

9 months & counting I hear your voice in the wind and turn my head sharply hoping to see your full figure staring right back at me.

9 months & counting continuing to find the peace to bear with the sadden news.

9 months & counting know that you are loved and will always be loved by me, your family, friends, your peers and classmates.

9 months & counting I will always love you.

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Is It ‘Bad’ That I’ve Lost Hope…Again?

December 6, 2014  6:02 PM

Well, it’s December and I can happily say that I successfully completed my Fall Semester at my University.  It was a fairly ‘easy’ transition semester for me as I had to take a medical leave of absence last Spring. I came back to school with high expectations for myself: to remain positive, continue to take my meds, see my psychiatrist and therapist regularly, and try my ultimate best to reconnect with others to the best of my ability. And, surprisingly I did. I’ve had one of the best semesters of my college career. Not a lot of my friends from last semester reached out to me and it’s partly my fault since well I did not reach out to them too, especially the ones I know I hurt the most. I heard through the grapevine from peers that well “I was just too crazy to be around and they needed space”. Which of course I will not fight and did not take to heart but I was and still am hurt that they could not approach me as an individual. But I moved on and my two best friends took me under their wings and made my transition back to school the best; comforting and supportive.

I did have a couple of bipolar episodes this semester including one a couple of days ago. I am much more aware of my manic – depressive episodes now than ever before. I am so open to let others know now that ‘hey, I simply do not want to be bothered today…I am not myself’. Of course, I would only tell this to a selective group of people who understood what it is I am going through. I’ve had nights I cried myself to sleep…and there would be reason behind it;  just tears  falling and I wasn’t sure if it was the depression, my meds, me thinking about my friend who passed, I just could not pin point why I was crying.

I’ve had some weird moments where I felt as though I was not myself. I felt like I was walking on Earth but felt lost on the inside; I did not know where I was going. There were a couple of nights this semester I would walk out of my bed at like 3:00 AM and roam the city streets by my campus and sit on the tracks and wait patiently for the next train to pass through the town. In the back of my mind, I would sit and ponder ‘am I going to move when the train comes or sit and let it run over my lifeless body’ there was so much going on through my head that I just could not think straight. And so I moved…and let the train pass through and not drag my body along with it. I would push and force myself off the tracks and sit in the bushes and cry my life away.

In the bushes, I would sit in silence and run my fingers through the cold mulch.  I would think about the lives I would have damaged and hurt if I took the risk and let the train run me over. What good would that have been huh? I’ve already lost someone so important and loving to me I do not think I can do the same to my friends and family. But in all honesty who am I kidding? Sometimes these thoughts roll on through like a train without breaks and just keep on trucking until it has reached a dead end…then reverses and starts a new idea and ‘sad’ process… Story of my life.

I’ve had some moments where I would literally throw myself against my bedroom walk. I would move my furniture and run into the wall and bounce back with such a headache and pain. Why?  I wanted the thoughts and voices to stop; to just shut up and leave me alone. Uncontrollable thoughts I wished I was in control of started to consume my mind, body, and soul again and I thought well, what better way to get ride of them by ‘knocking them out’.

Then I met a nice decent caring gentleman. A young man whom I thought would be a great addition to my life. We connected right away and I felt like I could talk to him about any and everything and he helped me rebuild my faith, something I lost when my friend passed away. And so we bonded and talked for almost a month.  I really started to like this guy and I haven’t felt this way for someone in a while since everything that has happened to me. So I told him. And of course I received the usual …”I’m flattered but I don’t feel or see you in the same way and the right person will come …”.  I lost part of my soul and dignity in life that day the moment those words were uttered.  So here I am writing this entry about ‘Is it bad that I’ve lost hope?’ because I’ve lost hope again in new beginnings…foundations…relationships…life. I’m a failure… I had to have done or said something in that month to ‘make’ him not like me…I didn’t tell him at all that I was bipolar and suffer from clinical depression. That’s my personal business and I was afraid that if I did open up about it to him, it would have turned him away. It wasn’t for long that my manic side showed through and my borderline personality disorder. I transformed into this different person when he told me how he felt and I overreacted and he witnessed it from the beginning to the end. Our friendship ended on a terrible note and I was the driving force behind it. Of course, I thought things were looking up in my life, I had my two best friends in my life, classes were going great, social life back in full effect and a possible new relationship in the works… but the latter was tainted because of the true person I am on the inside…

And so now I question…where is hope? Where is this desire or exception for certain things to happen in my life. I mean yes I am alive and well and healthy and happy but hope? I’ve lost it…again…and now I just do not know if ‘living’ is what I want to do..Do I truly want to sit around and wait for things to happen? If so, I need to learn to be patient but of course manic and patience are never used in the same sentence.

In the meantime, I do have other things to focus and work on and I do have the right people standing behind me. I thought I would feel different 7 months later, but there is still a root deep down inside of me ready to break away from the trunk of life I’ve established thus far…only time will tell.