Posts Tagged ‘grief’

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Starting out three months too soon,

He didn’t make it.

My twin was too little,

I took the nutrition,

This you’ll hear, is my rendition.

Left alone, parents aside.

Only touched out of necessity,

Rarely for love comfort,each time much brevity.

Fed through my head because I couldn’t feed.

A little weird, I think, because apparently I managed my needs:

In the womb, next to my brother,

The moment we’re out I don’t get another

Moment near him as they swooped him away,

Or fell into the bucket, there’s none who will say.

None who can or will tell me the truth as I stare off into space,

Appearing aloof.

Bitterness abounds as my family breaks apart.

It was at my birth, at my start.

Sure there were problems and problems before,

I can’t help but think I added to the stress more.

Regardless, I was an innocent life,

Quite fragile, delicate, and constantly under the knife.

They thought I was stupid, young, naive.

I knew what was going on, always protecting my reality,

Not wanting to believe,

That my parents couldn’t love me,

That they constantly grieve,

The three children they had

1 dead

1 dying

and the last, keeps trying.

That’s me, the last, a bundle of unknowns,

I stepped away to grow up on my own.

From a very young age I never connected,

They blamed birth, the brain bleed, always something indirect.

They never stepped up, they never confessed,

That all this, all this came from distress.

If they were dead, this life might make sense.

At the very least, I would have evidence, and my world not as dense.

I despise them, I pity them,

For parents they are not.

I used to want to leave, ran away a lot.

No one helped me as I sat in despair.

I was the crazy one, life perfectly unfair.

I was judged, ridiculed, abused all the time,

When I asked for help and spoke the truth, it was as if I did the crime.

I didn’t, I was just a little kid,

Shouldn’t have to take care of myself,

Yet I did.

This pattern created a grown up too soon,

From the age of 6 I was off, zoom zoom.

I began to rebel, only from them,

I began to stay away, always sent to my room.

The monster within me wouldn’t leave,

As I destroyed my things, myself, all in a vain attempt to grieve.

For not having a mommy to cuddle with when I was upset,

Not having a daddy as he was filled with his own, deep-seated regret.

I did have Barbara, emotionally and completely destroyed.

I did have Ken, an unstable adult child, who I sometimes enjoyed.

Then there’s Michael, who never really liked me,

He noted this before and to the police I was crazy,

And last from my childhood was Judi, far from a lady.

I yearned to connect, to please have a family,

No, not for me,

That would be uncanny.

As my world unraveled, I followed suit,

How did I not die on this treacherous pursuit?

I was done, ready to die,

What kind of life is this, all alone, with no one nearby.

Somehow I’ve lived, they call it fortuitous,

They call it a miracle, they call it bliss.

I don’t know what to say,

I just don’t want to struggle, through this, day after day.

I want to live, to stay alive,

Yet there’s uncertainty and death has been near,

The angels called for me, and I was like a deer,

Caught in the headlights, unsure how to proceed,

As the angels waited nearby,

Would I concede?

I didn’t go, not wanting to die alone,

But I was ready, done with the drone,

Of being sick, unloved and unwanted,

The only hope I had left, slowly dissipating,

My life was on the edge as I was done fighting,

Too scared to die, too tired to live,

I drifted through the night, unable to give.

I woke in the morning, rather confused,

The medicine finally worked, I didn’t lose.

I was alive, albeit tired, weak and meek,

Wanting to finish school, week after week.

I loved where I lived, not wanting to leave,

Yet I had to, this time,

If I wanted to breathe.

Life is breath,

Breath is life,

I must remember this pattern to be rid of the strife.

I’m alive now, I’m writing this down,

Missing Denmark, my twin, and my upside-down frown.

I was happy there, though I was sick.

I had friends, ones I could pick.

I’m lost here, where I don’t belong,

I’ve nothing here, not even a mom.

I have me, only me, someone I despise,

Who stole from a baby, ripped apart a family,

All by being alive.

 

 

 

What did I do wrong

What happened to my life? I started to get better over here, at least emotionally. I was welcomed by a most amazing host family, and felt a part of their home within the first 24 hours. We had ups and downs, mostly ups and downs were external forces for the next four months. We shared secrets. Then I got sick. They visited me every few days in hospital. Then I got well. Then I got sick after the first day, and was re-admitted. Fortunately, I was discharged days later after fighting a severe infection.

I moved out of the house as planned, to start another term. They had already planned on having family friends move in, before I decided I’d stay the whole year. Ever since that point, I have made the effort to go see them on at least half a dozen separate occasions, on public transportation mind you, while they own a car. They said they’d visit me and never once made the effort to do so.

Graciously they lent me their extra bike for the term. My youngest host sister and I have begun to exchange daily texts. The one I received from her today was odd. She had just asked if I was going to be coming by to see them before I leave and I wrote that I have to see her so yeah.

She responded in a rather adult way saying I have to confirm because I have the bike. The bike. Not me. Why see me? Why make an effort to come out to see me? I have not once seen them even attempt to come to where I live. Never mind the fact that finals, packing, and reverse culture shock are looming. Never mind I’ve been in hospital six times in the last four months. It’s always about monetary value, not people. People don’t matter. I don’t matter.

This is a mere extension or reflection of what I’ve been feeling over the past few weeks. Being neglected at the hospital that seemed to be the only decent one left here (I’ve been to four in this country), literally the hospital doing nothing but observation after I found blood in my tube.

The friends I’ve made where I live suddenly became absent from my life a few weeks ago as well. One, he was going through some stuff and wouldn’t let anyone in. He wasn’t responding to any of my texts and had very little contact with anyone. The other, I’m guessing it was his girlfriend who has been occupying his time over the past weeks. I just found out about the girlfriend over the past weekend at a gathering for a friend’s party.

The person who organized the party is at the same level of friendship as the person who the party was for. I hope this makes enough sense to get across. My birthday also was a few weeks ago, the organizer (friend) said we’d do something for my birthday. That never happened.I went to this party not bitterly, attempting to celebrate the special occasion for the friend. It was hard to not feel slightly jealous.

The cycle of neglect and abandonment and utter devastation surface and replay. Broken promises, broken heart, no family.

My father who only has contact with me for financial reasons as he has no emotional availability for me in his life just sent two horrifyingly nasty e-mails to my home school. You see, my home school is attempting to charge me their tuition even though I’m abroad and received a significant discount on tuition. If I don’t pay, they won’t give me my grades, will de-register me from classes in the Fall, and yes even remove my ability to check out library books. The money they want me to give them was to be my housing money for the summer. Hello homelessness, goodbye life as I knew it, for those few amazing months.

Remember when,
We were friends?
When I came to you and you came to me, and
Everything we did together was in near -perfect synchronicity
I miss those days, those times, those moments,
Most of all I miss you.
I should have known I couldn’t depend on you.
I should’ve known you weren’t for real.
All that glamour, too much appeal.
I was suckered in right from the start.
Actually thought your words and feelings were coming from your heart.
Instead, they were coming from your mind, and I was blind-or merely naive.
Looking back now, how didn’t I see that you’d eventually leave?
Nothing I did wrong, nothing in my control.
I became sick and you became, well, full.
Full of life, full of bs?
Doesn’t matter which, because I won’t get my wish.
To have you near, to have you around.
What I’d give just to hear that sound.
Of you answering the phone or opening the door.
To have you in my life, just once, no more.

Be Real

Posted: 20 J0000002UTC 2011 in Health, mental
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I’ve dealt with death before.
Death of a close friend sucks. I’m sitting around people who have no idea. They don’t share the pain I’m in, not that I want them to.

At the same time, I feel sad, and sitting around smiling people feels, well, awkwardly inappropriate. I’m sad. I don’t think I want to remove myself from this cloud of sadness.

Last year I realized I’ve never actually grieved anything. It’s a process that was constantly stifled through my or other’s means. I am a product of an extremely invalidating childhood. I don’t want to continue that cycle.

Let me grieve, don’t come up to me with fake smiles and “how are you’s?” that don’t mean anything. Stop falsely caring and either care, or don’t. No more middle ground.

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A Part Waiting

Posted: 20 J0000002UTC 2011 in mental
Tags: , , , , , ,

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I’m sitting here,
talking to you.

You know what’s weird?
You’re talking back.
It’s weird because you’re not here.

At this moment your body is either being prepared or you are being placed, ever so delicately I hope,
in the ground.

I’m waiting.
Knowing I can’t come for your departure.
An ocean apart physically.
Worlds apart metaphorically,
or perhaps,
Realistically.

What am I waiting for?
You’re not coming.
How are you talking to me?
Maybe I shouldn’t question it.
I love it.

After not speaking for nearly two years,distanced from one another due to severe mental illness or perhaps,
Extraordinary circumstances culminating in severe mental illness.
Because it’s hard to imagine that you or I were ever as sick as we were.
Until I write about you in past tense,
that’s all I can do from this point.

You’re gone, you’re actually physically gone.

And I’m here talking to you,
waiting for the yesterdays we had and the tomorrows we will never see together.

Death did us ‘part.

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You have to recognize his reality doesn’t exist in our reality; it is a constant state of denial and turmoil, that’s his reality. It’s devoid of higher-functioning emotions and full of Id emotions where his wants, needs and beliefs rise above all else.

As for her reality, it’s tainted entirely with illness. Her reality includes illness. Being ill reaps reward, often in the form of connection and love.

I exist outside of their realities, though I was created by their realities colliding. I am squashed.

I couldn’t fathom why K hadn’t texted me back after the text asking “4 on Sun?”. My thoughts have been:

1. She didn’t know what to say. She knows exactly what she did. That’s why she’s not calling me or texting me to see how I am.

2. She didn’t know I was affected

3. Even if she does know, she’s a really bad therapist (never mind the whole other situation) for not responding after some time of my not responding. She’s a pretty shitty therapist to not follow up after her last text on Wednesday considering it’s out of character for me to not respond. Why isn’t she responding?

4. I wish you (K) were my friend too. I need a friend. I need someone to check in on me, someone who I get along with, someone who can trade life stories with me.

Evidently, as of now, apparently she thought I was coming. Just received the following text:

Running Late K

The therapist at my school believes I should report K.

You know, up until the past few days, I’ve never experienced something like I am now. This wave, this rush of sadness and emotional pain that starts in the pit of my stomach and ends in my throat happens dozens of times a day.

I wish you were my friend.

Now that you’d technically be on the clock, now you’re texting me?

R u coming

I don’t think so, considering I’m an hour away, sitting on my laptop typing this. Are you ever going to step up to the plate and acknowledge what you did? How can you act like you don’t know? And hey, even playing devil’s advocate, if the numerous incidents that have occurred in the past week didn’t tip you off, there is NO WAY I can deal with this now, on break.

Even the mediocre doctoral students are better than no one around to run things by, and they have break too this week. The one I saw on Friday “applauded me” for “only” restricting and not resorting to other behaviors. I guess she thought that losing 8 pounds in four days was a no biggie. And so instead, I’ve been minimizing my emotional pain by restricting my intake. It’s overwhelming to even process all that’s happened even at this extreme restriction level, imagine full-fledged feelings and actually hearing things (including answers) I may not want to hear.

This will be an interesting next few hours. I’m going to try to remain as objective as a news reporter to the situation, yet somehow I don’t believe I can be that detached. It’s also interesting because I know for a fact that C will be seeing her today at 6:30PM, and I told C I’m not doing well (didn’t divulge the reasoning behind it though). I’m not sure if B has an appointment today as well. She and I haven’t been in contact aside from the one text conversation I mentioned in a previous post and one other time about her asking when I was coming to the sober living on Saturday night (yesterday). Apparently, the house manager didn’t relay the message to her that I wouldn’t be staying there. B didn’t ask how I was actually doing any of those short texts. Some people might say she’s too wrapped up in her own stuff to think about others. That might be accurate. Some would say that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t talk with her about what’s going on. The aspect I find most fascinating throughout though is that K, fully aware of how much B has been struggling STILL went to her house IMMEDIATELY after she was fired to tell her. Do you know how easy it is for someone not in denial of an addiction, but not wanting to change ways to completely immerse herself into another person’s life, another person’s drama, so that for a bit, their focus can be entirely elsewhere? I’ll tell you. It’s pretty easy. It’s great, it’s appreciated. AND IT’S DANGEROUS… AND B’s VERY GOOD AT REDIRECTING HER ATTENTION ELSEWHERE. I just want to flick K on the head with that decision because she knows B well enough to know that’s exactly what B did after K left. She shifted her focus to anyone’s problems except her own.

We’ll see what K makes of this whole situation today, we’ll see if she takes any action whatsoever beyond this last text. We’ll see if somehow she can recognize, acknowledge, and validate my pain. I wish it with all my heart that she’ll take notice, and yet, I doubt she will.

I still wish you were my friend.