Monday, November 21, 2011
Touche, life.
My friend just told me that she is pregnant. She has never wanted to have kids and the guy she is with, well, he is not my favorite. I am trying to have the mindset of "if you're happy, I'm happy," but it is really hard for me. I don't think she is in a good position to be having a kid and the dude is wack and this shit just falls into people's laps every fucking day and it's all I have ever wanted. I mean, not like that, not the way she is having it but the man and the kid and all that...fuck me. How is this ok? Life is crazy, and i am not super stoked on it right now. I guess it's like the "Always a bridesmaid" type thing...."always an Auntie, never a Mom."
Thursday, November 10, 2011
too much stuff!!!!!!!
So many things...I haven't been writing much lately even with all of these things happening and I think it is because for the last two weeks things have been so heavy and intense that if i let myself feel anything about it I wouldn't have been able to cope. In the last couple weeks I have been dealing with a student who has been in crisis every day, screaming and begging to be normal, it's absolutely heart-wrenching. I have found out that my Aunt, who is actively battling a very terrible form of aggressive lung cancer was hospitalized for pneumonia, not cool. I took a good friend to the ER when she was is a psychological crisis of her own, thank "God" she is safe. I am approaching (rapidly) a pretty major surgery, the anniversary of KC proposing, the anniversary of his death, my birthday *who cares* and the major holidays. How would anyone cope with this? Mental breakdown of my own seems too time consuming. So instead? Nothing. Numbness. Disconnection. How else does someone cope when shit just keeps piling higher and higher on top of you? If you don't have time for the back to break, then you just keep trudging forward as if you are fucking twinkle-toes McGee, light on your feet without a care in the world, right? At least that's how I am dealing, for now anyway. There has to be a breaking point, though, right? Like how long is it sustainable to just ignore sad and traumatic and difficult life shit?
The one good thing is that I had a therapy appointment the other night that allowed me to do some real work regarding the trauma side of KC's death. Although I didn't discuss anything that has been happening lately, or any of the upcoming tough days (holidays, anniversaries, etc), I was *forced* to revisit and do some real work around the day that I found out KC was missing, and the following day where I learned he was gone. The therapy I am practicing is called EMDR, or Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing. The theory is, basically, that when someone has endured a trauma, of any kind, that there is an integration problem left in the brain. Kind of like the two sides of the brain fail to communicate properly and whatever the trauma was doesn't integrate or process like any other information would. So, for example, when I think about my ex *boyfriend* who died in a motorcycle accident about 5 years ago, I understand that he is dead. I get it, I can wrap my head around it. (He and I had not spoken for about 6 months before the accident and had not been dating for years, and though it was and remains very sad, it was nothing compared to KC's passing). Conversely, even now, almost a year later, I can't quite wrap my head around the fact that KC is gone. dead. deceased, whatthefuckever but I just don't fucking get it. So with EMDR treatment, each side of the body is stimulated by either tapping the left leg, then right leg over and over, or in the case of my treatment, I hold little buzzers in each hand that buzz right, left, right, left, and I talk about the trauma. This is really intense and emotional and pretty scary because I am *forced* to relive the worst period of time in my life, and frankly when that day pops into my head, inevitably, on a daily basis, I do my best to literally shake the thought OUT of my head. I avoid it because it gives me such anxiety. So, of course, delving into every detail that I can remember of that 36 hour period of horror and and utter devastation and crippling despair wasn't exactly easy. I don't think I have cried as hard as I did in that session since December of last year. I held onto these buzzers and spoke about the phone call fro KC's father. I spoke about falling to my knees, unable to breathe desperate for what I had just learned to have been a bad dream, even though I knew I was awake. I spoke about Ashlee, the dear sweet life saver of a friend who picked me up off the ground, called my parents, and drove me to KC's father's house. I talked about looking into Dave's (KC's dad) eyes and begging for an ounce of hope that KC was OK and seeing nothing but sorrow and angst. I talked about knowing that KC was gone while simultaneously wishing that I would be proved wrong. I talked about seeing my parents walk through the door at 1:30 AM and seeing my father cry for the first time since he told me his mother died when I was about 8, or maybe 10. How people kept telling me to eat, or sleep, and I couldn't. I talked about how KC's sister walked in the door the following day at about noon and told me "They found KC, and he wasn't alive," and after that I just wailed and then I don't remember anything until I was in the urgent care getting a shot of Ativan in my ass. I remember vaguely people standing over me and talking but I felt like I was in a fishbowl and couldn't really see or hear anything clearly. I talked about all of these things and more while the buzzers were in my hand, and when I was done talking about it I closed my eyes and imagined being back there in those places, in that state of mind and I repeated this i think about 3 or 4 times as per the instruction of my therapist. I relived the worst period of time I have ever endured with these buzzers in my hands. It was daunting and miserable and seemed repetitive and difficult but somehow, each time, it became a little bit easier to deal with.
When I left the session, we scheduled another one for shortly before the anniversary of KC's passing and my therapist told me that her patient's have told her that generally the day after this treatment is pretty tough, but the next day after that people tend to feel more energetic and significantly better. I found that to be very true. Today is that second day and it has been much better than yesterday. Also, as I have been writing this I have noticed a bit of a difference in the "integration" thing. It feels a little more acceptable to me now. I guess that is good, although a little scary at the same time. Like acceptance is the last step *bullshit i know* to the grieving process and maybe I am not as willing and ready to be "done." Not that I am, but it's just kind of strange that I would be reluctant to feel acceptance. Like it is comforting to be uncomfortable or something. hmmm....gonna have to keep thinking about that one.
The point here is, that if you have experienced trauma, seek help and look into EMDR as a possible treatment for you. Also, that you never really know what you can handle until you're tested. I didn't even get a chance to mention to my therapist all of the things happening around me or to me or whatever, and I am a little frustrated by that but I am happy with and proud of the work I have done with my therapist so far, so there's that. I guess I am still going to be medicating for a bit, but that's fine. I am good with that. On that note..........
The one good thing is that I had a therapy appointment the other night that allowed me to do some real work regarding the trauma side of KC's death. Although I didn't discuss anything that has been happening lately, or any of the upcoming tough days (holidays, anniversaries, etc), I was *forced* to revisit and do some real work around the day that I found out KC was missing, and the following day where I learned he was gone. The therapy I am practicing is called EMDR, or Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing. The theory is, basically, that when someone has endured a trauma, of any kind, that there is an integration problem left in the brain. Kind of like the two sides of the brain fail to communicate properly and whatever the trauma was doesn't integrate or process like any other information would. So, for example, when I think about my ex *boyfriend* who died in a motorcycle accident about 5 years ago, I understand that he is dead. I get it, I can wrap my head around it. (He and I had not spoken for about 6 months before the accident and had not been dating for years, and though it was and remains very sad, it was nothing compared to KC's passing). Conversely, even now, almost a year later, I can't quite wrap my head around the fact that KC is gone. dead. deceased, whatthefuckever but I just don't fucking get it. So with EMDR treatment, each side of the body is stimulated by either tapping the left leg, then right leg over and over, or in the case of my treatment, I hold little buzzers in each hand that buzz right, left, right, left, and I talk about the trauma. This is really intense and emotional and pretty scary because I am *forced* to relive the worst period of time in my life, and frankly when that day pops into my head, inevitably, on a daily basis, I do my best to literally shake the thought OUT of my head. I avoid it because it gives me such anxiety. So, of course, delving into every detail that I can remember of that 36 hour period of horror and and utter devastation and crippling despair wasn't exactly easy. I don't think I have cried as hard as I did in that session since December of last year. I held onto these buzzers and spoke about the phone call fro KC's father. I spoke about falling to my knees, unable to breathe desperate for what I had just learned to have been a bad dream, even though I knew I was awake. I spoke about Ashlee, the dear sweet life saver of a friend who picked me up off the ground, called my parents, and drove me to KC's father's house. I talked about looking into Dave's (KC's dad) eyes and begging for an ounce of hope that KC was OK and seeing nothing but sorrow and angst. I talked about knowing that KC was gone while simultaneously wishing that I would be proved wrong. I talked about seeing my parents walk through the door at 1:30 AM and seeing my father cry for the first time since he told me his mother died when I was about 8, or maybe 10. How people kept telling me to eat, or sleep, and I couldn't. I talked about how KC's sister walked in the door the following day at about noon and told me "They found KC, and he wasn't alive," and after that I just wailed and then I don't remember anything until I was in the urgent care getting a shot of Ativan in my ass. I remember vaguely people standing over me and talking but I felt like I was in a fishbowl and couldn't really see or hear anything clearly. I talked about all of these things and more while the buzzers were in my hand, and when I was done talking about it I closed my eyes and imagined being back there in those places, in that state of mind and I repeated this i think about 3 or 4 times as per the instruction of my therapist. I relived the worst period of time I have ever endured with these buzzers in my hands. It was daunting and miserable and seemed repetitive and difficult but somehow, each time, it became a little bit easier to deal with.
When I left the session, we scheduled another one for shortly before the anniversary of KC's passing and my therapist told me that her patient's have told her that generally the day after this treatment is pretty tough, but the next day after that people tend to feel more energetic and significantly better. I found that to be very true. Today is that second day and it has been much better than yesterday. Also, as I have been writing this I have noticed a bit of a difference in the "integration" thing. It feels a little more acceptable to me now. I guess that is good, although a little scary at the same time. Like acceptance is the last step *bullshit i know* to the grieving process and maybe I am not as willing and ready to be "done." Not that I am, but it's just kind of strange that I would be reluctant to feel acceptance. Like it is comforting to be uncomfortable or something. hmmm....gonna have to keep thinking about that one.
The point here is, that if you have experienced trauma, seek help and look into EMDR as a possible treatment for you. Also, that you never really know what you can handle until you're tested. I didn't even get a chance to mention to my therapist all of the things happening around me or to me or whatever, and I am a little frustrated by that but I am happy with and proud of the work I have done with my therapist so far, so there's that. I guess I am still going to be medicating for a bit, but that's fine. I am good with that. On that note..........
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Gloomy Gus
I am approaching the one year mark, Dec 4 will be a year that KC has been gone. I am finding myself less and less able to cope with this. My emotions are so unstable; one minute I am perfectly fine and able to enjoy the company I am in or whatever and the next minute I am fucking devastated. This morning I woke up and was feeling fine, had a cup of coffee, chat with my parents. Ate some breakfast and watched a couple episodes of It's Always Sunny in Philidelphia (hilarious, btw). I made some plans with two of the most fun, inspiring, beautiful girls I know to go on a hike. I came into my room to get ready for the hike and I just became overwhelmed with sadness. There is no reason for this. No trigger. No warning. I am still going to go on the hike because I know the girls I will be with are going to be helpful to me in feeling this way. Also I just really don't want to waste another Sunday feeling like shit curled up in bed. It isn't fair that because KC is gone I lose days of my life. I am angry about that. So I am fighting the urge to let the grief hold me and going out into nature and i'll cry out there
instead. Happy Halloween, I guess.
instead. Happy Halloween, I guess.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
El Dia De Los Fuck You.
El Dia de los Muertos.
Fuck me.
I walked into this one with blind eyes, big time. Let me back up a bit. I went on a field trip with my students today for their Spanish class to a museum that was featuring an exhibit for El Dia de los Muertos, or the Day of the Dead. I thought the whole way about how cool the art would be and how I love museums and art is cool! YAY! Then I get there. I walk in. I see alters, alters honoring people who have died. I was fucking blindsided. I am standing there in front of 10 autistic teenagers fighting tears and feigning interest in this incredibly devastating display of pain, bereavement, grief, and loss. The idea was so beautiful, though. Honoring loved ones with art and pictures and butterflies and marigolds and sunlight and rich purples and love. It makes sense. It was nice to be able to leave a little note on the community alter for KC but it was a little awkward to do so in front of my students and coworkers.
The next couple months are going to kick my ass, I get that. I just thought I would know when these things were going to happen, I wasn't anticipating sneak-ups on me after almost 11 months of mourning. I thought I would have this figured out by now. But maybe you never get to figure things out all the way, maybe what I never get back is a feeling of security over my own emotions. Or maybe I just need more time. More than the year. This regression is tough enough by itself but this is my life now. I get up. I feel sad. I go to work. I feel distracted and sad. I get in my car to drive home from work and feel REALLY sad. I get home. I feel sad. I check facebook, I watch TV, I chat with my parents, I go to bed and feel sad. Rinse. Repeat. Just hoping someday it will get good again. It really has to get good again, this is not sustainable.
Fuck me.
I walked into this one with blind eyes, big time. Let me back up a bit. I went on a field trip with my students today for their Spanish class to a museum that was featuring an exhibit for El Dia de los Muertos, or the Day of the Dead. I thought the whole way about how cool the art would be and how I love museums and art is cool! YAY! Then I get there. I walk in. I see alters, alters honoring people who have died. I was fucking blindsided. I am standing there in front of 10 autistic teenagers fighting tears and feigning interest in this incredibly devastating display of pain, bereavement, grief, and loss. The idea was so beautiful, though. Honoring loved ones with art and pictures and butterflies and marigolds and sunlight and rich purples and love. It makes sense. It was nice to be able to leave a little note on the community alter for KC but it was a little awkward to do so in front of my students and coworkers.
The next couple months are going to kick my ass, I get that. I just thought I would know when these things were going to happen, I wasn't anticipating sneak-ups on me after almost 11 months of mourning. I thought I would have this figured out by now. But maybe you never get to figure things out all the way, maybe what I never get back is a feeling of security over my own emotions. Or maybe I just need more time. More than the year. This regression is tough enough by itself but this is my life now. I get up. I feel sad. I go to work. I feel distracted and sad. I get in my car to drive home from work and feel REALLY sad. I get home. I feel sad. I check facebook, I watch TV, I chat with my parents, I go to bed and feel sad. Rinse. Repeat. Just hoping someday it will get good again. It really has to get good again, this is not sustainable.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Onward.
So I don't really get inspired to write when I am happy. This makes my blog posts a big ole bummer all of the time. However, I feel like I just need to say that for this moment, I'm feelin pretty good. I have a good weekend lined up and my brother is coming to town tomorrow and I never get to see him. I am so happy to be able to spend time lately with people who are so important to me. There are some tough things coming up but during the rough times I will be surrounded by loving friends and family, how lucky is that? I know that is pretty rare and I am happy to acknowledge the great company I keep.
I am determined to try my best, every day, to focus my energy on the good, on life, on my life because I am still here. And, even though I am here without KC, I have a life to lead. However long or short my life may be, this is all I get. I make choices. Yes, there are things that happen that I can't control, and not everything that I choose directly impacts my life circumstances. I know, and accept that my acceptance of KC's proposal did not kill him. I chose to accept his proposal and some shitty accident took him away. Now, I can choose to dedicate my life to a man that is gone and therefore lose my life as well, or....I can choose to honor him, hold him in my heart, remember all that I have learned from him, and live my life alongside of the shitty circumstances. I can move forward. I can travel ONWARD. Onward. I love that word. "In a direction or toward a position that is ahead in space or time; forward." Onward seems reasonable. Logical. I can understand onward. There is hope in that word; hope for what I should have had with KC and the possibility of a time in space where I will be able to release the constant pain in my chest and knot in my stomach and feel truly happy again. Just accepting that this is possible eases the tension ever so slightly.
So for today, I will curl my hair, put on make up, be with my pregnant sister and amazing brother in law. Tonight I will share with the company of a few of my closest friends. Tomorrow I will see my brother and baby sister and spend a beautiful day with them. Monday I will go back to work where the struggles are great and the rewards are small but the impact is big. ONWARD, I say. Onward because you never know what may happen, and though bad things will inevitably occur, good will happen too. I will be prepared to handle/enjoy/breathe in/accept/survive whatever it may be.
I am determined to try my best, every day, to focus my energy on the good, on life, on my life because I am still here. And, even though I am here without KC, I have a life to lead. However long or short my life may be, this is all I get. I make choices. Yes, there are things that happen that I can't control, and not everything that I choose directly impacts my life circumstances. I know, and accept that my acceptance of KC's proposal did not kill him. I chose to accept his proposal and some shitty accident took him away. Now, I can choose to dedicate my life to a man that is gone and therefore lose my life as well, or....I can choose to honor him, hold him in my heart, remember all that I have learned from him, and live my life alongside of the shitty circumstances. I can move forward. I can travel ONWARD. Onward. I love that word. "In a direction or toward a position that is ahead in space or time; forward." Onward seems reasonable. Logical. I can understand onward. There is hope in that word; hope for what I should have had with KC and the possibility of a time in space where I will be able to release the constant pain in my chest and knot in my stomach and feel truly happy again. Just accepting that this is possible eases the tension ever so slightly.
So for today, I will curl my hair, put on make up, be with my pregnant sister and amazing brother in law. Tonight I will share with the company of a few of my closest friends. Tomorrow I will see my brother and baby sister and spend a beautiful day with them. Monday I will go back to work where the struggles are great and the rewards are small but the impact is big. ONWARD, I say. Onward because you never know what may happen, and though bad things will inevitably occur, good will happen too. I will be prepared to handle/enjoy/breathe in/accept/survive whatever it may be.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
10
Weird. Ten months to the day have passed and it seems such a strange occasion. Somehow weirder and harder to understand. Has it really been this long since I spoke to him? Heard his voice whispering "I love you, true, I'll see you tonight," if only that were the case. I still miss him so much. Nothing is really better. Nothing has really changed. The world continues to be worse than it once was. My life is still lonely and bitter and sad. I still have this rage inside me with nowhere to put it.
I was watching old episodes of Dexter the other night and there was a girl who was brutally tortured and Dexter was helping her get revenge on the men that did that to her. In a very weird way I felt jealous of this character. Like, she got to take revenge on these men and she felt satisfied afterward, a specific turning point for her work through trauma. There isn't any way I can equate that to the anger and rage I feel at the....what? At Tom and Dave, because they were there? No. I know they did everything in their power to be safe and find KC. At the Coast Guard? The Police and Sherrif's department? No. They also did everything they could. Am I angry at the Ocean? Yes. but this proves silly as the ocean has no intent one way or another, KC was in it by choice. Should I be mad at KC? How could I be? He always told me the way he lived his life ("to the fullest," as everyone would use this cliche like it means anything to me at all or somehow makes it "ok" that he is fucking dead and I am here without him) would result in his early departure from this world, and as much as I hated to hear him say that I can look back and know that he was right, and maybe part of me knew that then.
So with whom do I get to take out my anger and vengeful feelings? The only logical response would be myself. I can't do anything to the ocean, save maybe litter. But what would that do but harm the ecosystem. I would never take it out on the men who fought and searched and cried and begged to help KC, how could I? Everything they could have done was done. I am the only one. You could say I knew what I was in for, KC was an "extremest." He practically told me this would happen and I loved him enough to stick with him and just kindly ask him to not speak those truths aloud.
So what greater punishment should I incur? Any physical retribution is out of the question, I would never put my family through another tragedy if I can help it. I have already suffered the deepest pain I can imagine. Maybe I am already taking this out on me....the dreams, the fear, the anxiety, the inability to catch my breath just once for the last ten months, the unrelenting knot in my stomach, the constant double thinking, the notion that I will live the rest of my days without True Love, the lack of motivation, never feeling well rested, the constant wonder if I will live another day or if my time has run out, too. Well, Touche, Meg O, touche. I guess I am taking revenge, I just wonder when the feeling of satisfaction will ever be realized. Maybe never, and maybe that is me betraying myself, somehow, even further.
I was watching old episodes of Dexter the other night and there was a girl who was brutally tortured and Dexter was helping her get revenge on the men that did that to her. In a very weird way I felt jealous of this character. Like, she got to take revenge on these men and she felt satisfied afterward, a specific turning point for her work through trauma. There isn't any way I can equate that to the anger and rage I feel at the....what? At Tom and Dave, because they were there? No. I know they did everything in their power to be safe and find KC. At the Coast Guard? The Police and Sherrif's department? No. They also did everything they could. Am I angry at the Ocean? Yes. but this proves silly as the ocean has no intent one way or another, KC was in it by choice. Should I be mad at KC? How could I be? He always told me the way he lived his life ("to the fullest," as everyone would use this cliche like it means anything to me at all or somehow makes it "ok" that he is fucking dead and I am here without him) would result in his early departure from this world, and as much as I hated to hear him say that I can look back and know that he was right, and maybe part of me knew that then.
So with whom do I get to take out my anger and vengeful feelings? The only logical response would be myself. I can't do anything to the ocean, save maybe litter. But what would that do but harm the ecosystem. I would never take it out on the men who fought and searched and cried and begged to help KC, how could I? Everything they could have done was done. I am the only one. You could say I knew what I was in for, KC was an "extremest." He practically told me this would happen and I loved him enough to stick with him and just kindly ask him to not speak those truths aloud.
So what greater punishment should I incur? Any physical retribution is out of the question, I would never put my family through another tragedy if I can help it. I have already suffered the deepest pain I can imagine. Maybe I am already taking this out on me....the dreams, the fear, the anxiety, the inability to catch my breath just once for the last ten months, the unrelenting knot in my stomach, the constant double thinking, the notion that I will live the rest of my days without True Love, the lack of motivation, never feeling well rested, the constant wonder if I will live another day or if my time has run out, too. Well, Touche, Meg O, touche. I guess I am taking revenge, I just wonder when the feeling of satisfaction will ever be realized. Maybe never, and maybe that is me betraying myself, somehow, even further.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Nope
I take back that last post. I am not ready. I know that now. Oh well. Doomed to this lonely ass life. I miss KC.
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