It’s late. To me it’s Sunday night. My laptop says “it’s technically Monday.”
I’m still awake but I need to be awake in a few hours for work.
I can’t sleep.
I am about to face the hardest week.
It comes to me in flashbacks.
How I felt.
How you looked.
All of it.
You were taken away from me too soon.
I want you back.
I need you back.
I need you to hold my hand one last time
And tell me everything is going to be okay
Or just tell me you love me.
There’s still a hole in my heart from you leaving me.
Her voice echoes in my head
I can still see the snowflakes
And I can still hear your voice telling me, “You better go before it gets worse.”
Even though your mouth never spoke those words,
I knew it’s what you would have said.
But at that point, you had lost your voice.
I hate that I remember
All of it
I feel numb.
I had dealt with this.
I was stronger than this.
Do you think about me?
Are you still with me?
Do I sound needy?
Because I need you
A little girl needs her daddy.
It’s been a long year.
Today’s blog post title is inspired by “For Blue Skies” – Strays Don’t Sleep
Ps. If you haven’t heard it, the song is beautiful: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UWKP1SwHVqI
The funny thing about depression is that it consumes you.
I lied. It’s really not that funny.
I haven’t had a panic attack in months. I can’t remember the last time I had one. Maybe it’s not something I like to keep track of, so how would I remember?
All I know is I feel like I’m having a small one now. And it’s scary and it’s frightening. It consumes me.
I have tried everything: my breathing techniques, closing my eyes, counting to ten, looking at my peripheries in the mirror, talking to a friend, changing the subject, you name it.
I’m shaking and my heartbeat echoes in my head. My first tear just broke and I’m stumbling to catch my breath again. I’m writing this in hopes that it helps: that it forces me to focus on typing rather than break down into a million pieces.
School is the trigger this time around. It’s that time of year where I have a midterm, an essay, and two assignments due this week. I need to do well on this upcoming midterm because I did poorly on the last one. I need to do well on my essay because I am doing so well otherwise in the course. I need my marks to be good so I can go to grad school in the future. I don’t know what my future holds and the uncertainty is consuming me from the inside out.
All I want to do is cry. A good cry would help me right now. Instead, I feel numb. I feel emotionless. My vision is spotty and I want to just fall asleep. Just for a few minutes. But I can’t. When I rest my head, the panic sets in again. I have too much to do. I need to get some work done before my meeting tonight. I feel like I have chosen to allocate my time in the wrong ways. Last night I went out to the bar. I justified it by saying I wouldn’t realistically get much work done after 11pm anyways, so I might as well go out with friends. When I say it out loud, the reasoning seems sound. When I sit here right now, my body shakes at the thought of wasting my time.
I feel so weak. I have come such a long way since my battle with PD started. Am I just losing all over again? Maybe the battle was not even won in the first place.
Today’s blog title is inspired by “Going Away to College” – Blink-182
Just a moment of weakness – if you’d call it that. When the thought crosses your mind, it won’t escape you.
You’re paralyzed by the thought. You sit there, frozen in time in space, or so it seems. You don’t want to say the words, but they’re resting there on the tip of your tongue, “he’s gone.”
It’s not that you don’t think about it (because really, when aren’t you thinking about it), but rather you’re thinking about it more. Suddenly.
I can hear him saying, “why do you bother coming home if you’re just going to sit here and do homework?”
My goodness, that used to bother me. I used to resent him for even asking that. I mean, I came all the way home to be in the same room as him. Why was that not enough? Now I’d do anything to hear him say those words because the anger I felt would not be nearly as great as the emptiness I feel in my heart right now.
My thesis professor asked me today how I was doing in terms of losing my father.
You know, today has been the long time in a long time that someone has asked me that. Not that I want to be asked this all the time (because I really don’t), but it made me feel as though it was still valid to be going through the grieving process three months later. I told my professor I used to call my dad every day. He said that must be a difficult adjustment. I nodded. I didn’t have him to call when I got off the plane from NYC. I didn’t get to tell him about my trip. Or tell him I won a bursary. Or tell him that I’m stressed about school.
I miss how he would buy me wonton soup when I was sick or make my mom get it for me. I talk to him as if he’s still around, sometimes. I miss his snarky comments. His stupid jokes. And his big hugs.
So before I either go back to studying or to sleep, I’m gonna lay here on the couch, just for a moment, with one of his favourite blankets and just breathe. Showing weakness (if you’d even call it that) is not a bad thing, for it is from weakness one can build remarkable strength.
When I was in my second year, I took a class called Abnormal Psychology. At first, I loved it. I was so excited because finally I was going to take a course that interests me more than any other course I have taken.
The prof had a disclaimer at the beginning of the term: “Don’t try and diagnose yourself based on the symptoms you see here. Odds are, you will think you have something when you don’t.”
It wasn’t until the section on anxiety disorders when I started feeling uncomfortable being in class. I would feel as though the words he was saying were about me. I stopped going. At least until that section was over, anyways. The funny thing (and I use that loosely) was that I had not been diagnosed yet. So I made the brave decision to go to the doctor and well, the rest is history.
This year, in my fourth year, I am taking a class called Mental Health. On the first day of lecture, I started having the same feelings I did in my other class. I felt as though when my professor would say things like, “No one really knows what it is like to be someone with a mental disorder” and “there is a negative stigma surrounding having a mental disorder” that again, the words related so much to my life. So much, in fact, that I began to feel uncomfortable. My negative, intrusive thoughts floated in my head.
Had I been the same person I was two years ago, I would have either dropped the class or stopped going to class. Seeing how much I have changed and gotten stronger really opened my eyes that day. It has been a long time since I have had a panic attack. I couldn’t even tell you when the last time I had one was, that is how long it has been.
I have been so worried that with the feelings of loss finally sinking in deeper that I would start to feel my anxiety more than ever. Luckily, I have not. With the start of a new and stressful semester, I worry that being overwhelmed will evoke negative reactions but I feel confident that I will not break.
So here’s to smooth sailing in 2015!
Today’s blog post title is inspired by “Brain Damage” – Pink Floyd
Night time is the hardest for me.
It’s when I’m left alone with my thoughts.
It’s when I miss him the most.
When I hear his voice.
When I feel his hand in mine.
Tonight was especially hard.
I used to call him the minute I walked out of every exam.
Didn’t matter if it was early in the morning or late at night.
His number would be the first I would dial.
And tonight, it hit me.
I can’t do that anymore.
I can’t hear his voice telling me he’s sure I did great.
I can’t hear his voice reassure me that even if I think I did poorly, I did my best and that would always be enough.
I was always enough for him.
I was his angel.
I was special.
And he would forever love me.
It hurts to know I will never hear him say those things.
And I have two more exams I will want to tell him about.
All I have are memories
And a broken heart.
But I will hold him in my broken heart.
Because in time, my broken heart will heal.
I will hold him in my thoughts.
I will love him forever
Because I don’t need to be physically with him to feel such strong emotion.
I will close my eyes and imagine his voice telling me he loves me. Because I know he does.
And before I close my eyes and fall asleep at night,
I’ll gently whisper, “I love you too, daddy. I love you too.”
I miss you every day, daddy. ❤
Once upon a time,
In a not so far-away land, lived a boy and a girl. Everyone aspired to be in a relationship like theirs.
They rarely fought, they always talked out their problems, and they took the cutest selfies.
One day, the girl couldn’t take it anymore. Things that never used to bother her, started bothering her. He stopped being able to see her perspective. She was unhappy with herself, and she let it get in the way of their relationship.
She decided maybe some time apart would help. She was tired of being Mother-hen to him and all his “priorities.” He didn’t like the idea. He wanted to be with her forever.
A month passed, and on a drive into her hometown, he revisited the idea of a break. It was bad timing, no doubt. But she hesitantly agreed. After all, it was her idea in the first place. Maybe this was for the best. They decided on three months apart.
But the girl’s father, you see, was sick in the hospital. He knew this, of course, but was not aware of the severity of his condition. He died a week later. She called him and told him, because she wanted him to hear it from her. He was saddened.
The next day, after a full day of grieving, she called him. Because hearing his voice used to always help her feel better. This time it didn’t. She felt so stupid for calling him. His words were cold and flat. But why did she expect them to be any different?
Was she expecting him to say “Sorry I haven’t been there for you when you needed me?” Perhaps. And she knew that was not fair of her to expect.
Now she sits, saddened by the loss of two of the most important men in her life. Maybe this is all part of some greater plan. Maybe things just weren’t meant to be. Maybe they’ll work out in the future. Maybe they won’t.
And now she knows, better than ever: be careful what you wish for. Because you just may get what you wanted. Even if you wanted it a month ago.
And they didn’t live happily ever after.