Today has not been a good day. It started out wonderfully but deteriorated from that very quickly and I’ve been trying to navigate my own feelings ever since.
A big part of my 20s has been watching the people I love – those closest to me – deteriorate and die. I don’t know what that will mean for me in the long run. Typically people do different things in their 20s but I just hide out in the fictional world when things get tough.
I watched Mom die but today, my brain got an even worse image to hold on to, potentially for a very long time. Gran re-cheked into the hospital yesterday because her slipped disk in her back has gotten worse than ever and I went over there today to check on her and she was muffling her screams with a towel. She was shaking all over and all I could do was stand there and be paralysed. I went to the nurse to ask if someone could look again twice, the second time was on my way out.
Gran said she wished she would die so it were finally over. I’ve never heard her say those words out loud and that, combined with the image of her in her bed, made my head spin out of control. I’ve been in an iterative loop of avoidance and self-loathing since.
I hate myself for leaving; for not making sure a doctor came to see her asap though the nurse/doctor/whoever it was I talked to say she would go look at her when I left. But I didn’t know what to do. I kept myself together until I stood in front of the downwards elevator.
How many more times will I leave a hospital crying; shaken to my core?
When things get tough, I simply retreat inwards in an attempt at self preservation. I’ve been watching TV since I got home. It’s either that or reading, anything to keep my head from spinning and from remembering the bad and incompetent person I am.
I’ve wished to be a character in a work of fiction more times than I can remember. Fiction usually ends with a resolution, a happy end. Things get resolved in a specific number of minutes or pages but life doesn’t offer that kind of thing. You can’t sneak a peak at the end and that’s been driving me nuts since I was a teenager.
It’s probably not healthy to live in the future and ‘if’ ‘then’ ‘nows’. Instead I should focus on the present but the present has always been a scary place. At least the future holds hope. It could still magically work itself out.
If those Jehovah’s Witnesses turn up again at my doorstep asking why I don’t believe in god? This is why. Because I’ve seen too much and had too many shitty things happen in my life already.
I hate that I’m always the one who is around and has to deal with things. My uncle is far away and he may be sorry and every other emotion under the sun, but it’s always I who has to pick up the pieces and I don’t know how many more times I can do this until I get lost in them myself.
I’m getting 2012 flashbacks. Can I claim PTSD and use it as an excuse to check out of reality?
I may look like and adult (although that’s debatable) and sometimes know how to act like an adult but I sure as hell am not one. I just put my fingers in my ears, close my eyes and pretend everything is okay until I dream again of those times I had to take care of Mom.
The worst of all of this? Someone I love is in pain and I make it all about myself? My struggles, my problems with it. I’m not the important factor here and yet it’s all I can think about. So narcissistic.
(And no, in case you were wondering or worried, I’ve never been suicidal. That’s not it. This is not that kind of a story.)