“Anyone can slay a dragon ...but try waking up every morning and loving the world all over again. That's what takes a real hero.”―Brian Andreas
I have so much to say I feel like I am bursting at the seems. All these things are popping in and out of my head. I am so dizzy I feel like my head is about to pop off of my shoulders. I started this journey to help me rationalize things that I never could wrap my head around. As the days are approaching one month since my overdose I am in this awkward place in life. I feel like I am in between this place of evil and change. It has been 27 days. I keep going back to that place, that day; trying to break down how I felt, what was running through my head, and recalling how things played out over and over again. Between pulling my hair out and the stress making my hair fall out, I am seriously balding. Chunks of hair fall out when I shower, when I brush my hair, when I run my hands through my hair. My ears have started ringing again. I can't figure out if the chaos of this battle in my head is making it worse or if the silence is caving me in. There is noise but I just can't process it all anymore.
After my overdose, when my treatment first started, they told me part of learning how to exist is to take time to feel, to hear, to use my senses in a way that I never had before. I was always too busy, too overwhelmed, too tired to really take things in. I am still trying to learn this. Feeling is the sensation I have always tried to lock up. If you have no feeling it hurts less, or so I thought. Getting to a month is slowly starting to kill me. All these days are passing by and my mind is just racing. I am starting to realize that this diagnosis, this label, these disorders I posses explain why I have never been able to clearly pin point any of the emotions I have ever felt. All these emotions just turned into pain and then pain was the only thing I knew. I never allowed myself to be angry, sad, warn out. I never learned when I was reaching my capacity, how to tell, or any brief hint of explanation until I just got to the point where I was spilling over. My mind is so preoccupied that I am forgetting to eat, forgetting to do anything that is not directly required by feeling or lack there of.
I have become numb, distant, so confused. I am utterly overwhelmed and way past spilling out. I fell like I don't know if living through my overdose was a good or bad thing. If I am feeling anything specific about what happened. I remember being weak, faint, lost, happy. I was happy with the silence that my overdose gave me. I liked that feeling. The feeling of the world just pausing for one moment. The one thing I had been begging and wishing for longing for for so long. That moment in my life too a part of me. A part that I will never get back. I never thought in my entire life that I would ever be strong enough to almost succeed at dying. Dying; the one thing I have always been so afraid of and it had become like a guilty pleasure that I am inches from reaching but my arms are just too far away. My physical sensations never left me. I am still weak, dizzy, spinning, lost. I don't feel hunger anymore. I don't feel time. Time used to be such a big thing with me. Time always seemed to pass me by but in that moment that one moment time couldn't go fast enough.
I kept waiting and I am not sure what I was even waiting for. I remember what I felt the days after. I remember watching the clock, I remember how I felt when I was crying outside wanting to be anywhere then where I was. I continued to feel alone. The days after I had this bitter emptiness that I had never felt before. Like the world had taken everything away from me. I took it away from myself. I remember coming home. Feeling dirty, invaded, alone, hopeless. I remember the dyer need to take a shower. It was the same feeling I had from being raped. Unclean. Defeated. Scared. I always tried to justify my sexual abuse. Always tried to find reasoning in it. I remember being stalked on my way to school. I was in middle school. I remember looking over my shoulder walking fast, faster, and the feeling of relief when I stepped onto school grounds.
I remember the day I came home. Laying down. The feeling of my husband's arms around me. The feeling of him close. His touch. All of the thing I wanted to forget after that night. I didn't care what happened. Why it happened. Whose fault it was. I felt like someone had ripped him away from me that day. I remember counting hours and minutes. Watching that stupid clock that hung in my living room. That stupid black and white clock. I remember trying to focus on something, anything. Trying to find something to distract me. I couldn't. I was completely captivated in that feeling in my chest. I cried so hard I couldn't breath. I remember thinking that if someone could just rip my heart out of my chest it would have felt better then the pain I felt from being away from him. I remember the hate I felt in not knowing when I would see him again, if I would see him again.
In the hospital I laid in that bed, the uncomfortable bed that no one in their right mind can sleep in. I remember the invasion I felt in not being able to go to the bathroom alone. I felt disgusting knowing that I had put myself in that position. I remember that all I could think about after I was home was next time I need to do it better. Who the hell thinks that way?! I feel like nothing has been the same since then. None of my relationships. No one treats me the same and I haven't figured out if that is good or bad. I guess I had this realistic picture in my head that someone, anyone would take care of me. Help me remember all of the things that I really just can't do right now. Someone to help me find my limits and just say it is too much right now. Don't rush yourself. Take time. Heal. Healing; I am not sure where that would even put me. I was never whole to begin with so how can I be healed? No one communicates. No one talks about it. They hide like I do.
On top of this weird love hate relationship I have for "living" and "dying" I almost think there isn't much of a difference between the two. I have so much guilt, shame, pain in what happened. Not because of what I did or how I feel but this aftermath. Everyone wants to judge the situation, think that they understand it, act like everyone in the world is up my ass full of sunshine. I can't even honestly believe how much hate you learn when you open your eyes. The people you have always tried your best to be there for. Or at least I thought I did. I gave love, communication, effort. Honestly what else is there? I gave everything I had and more for these people that have never wanted to give anything back. I don't know what life is, I don't know what living is, I don't know what any of this means. Frankly, I haven't decided if I want to.
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