Letter to Germany

Dear Germany,

I remember when we went to see Captain America before you left (hah, was it really that long ago that the Avengers were a new thing?) and I cried when Bucky fell out of the train and Steve had to mourn losing him. You thought I was a dork. I totally was. But I think now, I may have been that sort of precognizant dork that recognized a loss of my own coming. There is no one I’ve encounter that I have the bond with that I had with you. I suppose part of that is age. Such is being an adult. The world is your own; wholely.

God know Rogers has been a good friend. I can’t really fault him in any way. I’ve been withdraw for years now. There’s no new friend who could get under my skin and into my soul like you did back in the day.

Obviously not anymore.

Honestly, I don’t know whether we truly ever had it like that. Did we? Or was it just the innocence of youth that sort of gave us those rose-tinted glasses and the idea of this other person that could be part of our soul (without the messy romantic bullshit).

It was a beautiful idea regardless. Whether a lie or not.

These days feel like shadows. I can’t recapture that ideal of before no matter how much I reach. It could be that I’m not trying hard enough, but my ability is such that I’m not able to try harder. I would that I could. Such is my mantra for the moment. For the year. For this lifetime.

I would that I could.

There was so much shit in high school. So much. And yet, I would pry out the bit of idealistic friendship I had there for a couple years if I could. Because god knows I’ve never found it since. There is nothing wrong with my current group of friends. I know they try. But I just don’t open my soul like I used to. I don’t let anyone, platonic or otherwise, pry their way into that dark dank recess of what used to be a giving and loving place.

Obviously no longer.

I don’t have any magic excuses or apologies really to give you. I’m a selfish person at this point I suppose. Or weak. Or tired. Whatever you want to brand me with is fine. You’ve had your own thing now an entire ocean away anyhow. I’m sure I’ve be relegated to a blip on your radar at this point. And it’s fine. Distance is a bitch.

So is life.

-K

Stuck

Stuck in baby blues as the anniversary of the worst day of my life approaches. Nothing to describe this loss. I always hope the next year will be better. So far they are not.

Every year hurts just as much as the last.

Especially when I get my period near the date. Most triggering 4 days of the month.

I just want it to be Halloween soon.

Trying to get past this date. Trying really hard.

Panic Attack

i’ve never had a panic attack.

but today i realized…just suddenly. out of the blue. today is the 9th.

that means the 6th already passed.

and for a moment i wondered why i was thinking that. i mean, why was that date passing important in this moment.

then it suddenly felt like i’d been suckerpunched right in the gut.

it literally hurt to breathe. my head spun. my vision telescoped.

how could i forget about her? losing her? the day my world turned upside-down entirely. i thought i was going to be a mother. i knew i was ready. i could do it. it didn’t matter what others thought.

and i just forgot.

how could i do that? i deserve to hyperventilate and pass out. it’s fair.

anything for her.

Oct 6th

October 6th.

It’s coming.

10 days.

10 days seems like a flash.  I wish I could just gloss over it.  Don’t think about it.  Don’t acknowledge it.  Don’t remember it.

Unfortunately, it combines with my father’s birthday.  Isn’t that fantastic?

I remember he was in Las Vegas when it happened.  Of course, that afforded me the opportunity to stay at his house.

Away from people.
Away from Army; furious I hadn’t told him what hospital I was at.  Suddenly he cares?  Out of nowhere he actually gives a shit?  No.  You do not get to magically start giving a shit about something so precious.  Especially when it’s being lost.

I’m being unfair. He’s being so wonderful lately. Trying so hard. Making me smile.

But back then…

That horrible day.

6 hours in the hospital.  A box of pills intended for a new arthritis treatment because my body doesn’t know how to just let things go.

Over a week of excruciating pain due to those pills.  Barely get out of bed pain.
_________________________________________________

The night I get back from the hospital, I dig out the cans of 4 Loko I’ve hidden under my childhood bed and find frozen fruit in Dad’s freezer.

His blender is a nice one and chops the ice perfectly.  Dad doesn’t buy milk or juice, so I use only the 4 Loko as the liquid for the smoothie.

It is strong.

My texts to Army become so bad that he calls me.  I slur.  He changes from angry to extreme concern.  I let slip that I’m alone at Dad’s.  He says he’ll be there in 20.

I fail to mention the messages I’ve been exchanging with Katherine.  Because I am still an idiot at this point.  My fractured self desperately clings to the past.

And her father saw me in the ER, so of course she is curious.  She is concerned.

She sees the fracture, the pain, the scars.  She claws them open further with her sharp nails.

And I let her.  I relish in the tearing flesh, the prickling heat of blood, the teeth, the tears.  I offer myself up and beg for more.  It’s a dance we’re both familiar with.  The steps are well-worn, not forgotten at all.

Until Army shows up.

He fumbles with being the white knight.  It isn’t a role he does, except with guns and medicine.  But I am not in physical danger.  For now.
He checks my vitals anyway.  My blood oxygen is low.  He is angry I want to be alone, despite the doctors expressly forbidding otherwise.

He’s found my discharge paperwork from the hospital.  Not that I hid it.

He takes the smoothie, tastes it, and glares.  I laugh.  His eyes go from irritated to anxious so quickly.  I idly wonder how I can affect him like this now; when for months he’s been like a robot.

He says he will be taking me home with him.  Tonight.  Whether I walk or am carried to his car is up to me.

I reach for the smoothie.  He goes to the kitchen and dumps it down the garbage disposal.  I sigh.  I cannot summon anger.  I was so angry just 24 hours ago.  I was blaming him for all my discomfort, my depression, my lack of friends.

But now.  Now I’m just tired.  I just want to sleep.  Forever.

Distantly, I hear Army talk about me needing to eat.  I chuckle at this.  I will never eat again.  I couldn’t manage to keep a small, flickering life lit inside me.  Why the hell would I bother with myself?  It’s all pointless anyway.  The doctors say there is a good chance I am broken now.

_________________________________________________

If my body would just learn to let things go.

Just let it go.  Please.  That’s all I want right now.  I just want to stop dwelling.
I want to not hear the ghostly whispers of Audrey begging for suicide.  Screaming our faults.  Trying to tear at the scars.

I just want to lie down and wake up to October 10th.  Or Halloween.

Can we just skip it all?

Let it go.

Baby Shower

We just finished my coworker’s baby shower and I am triggered beyond belief.

I did not expect it to be this bad.

I feel so weak and dumb and stupid that I can still be so wounded over a year later.

I did get a bit of smile when my coworker (J) opened my gift for her and just beamed at it.  She loves elephants.  It’s entirely a coincidence that what I gave her had elephants on it though.

Because it was one of the items I had stowed away from my pregnancy.  I could never bring myself to donate them or even throw them away.

I really struggled with whether to give it to J or not.  But she has been such a great coworker and friend to me that it felt like the safest home for my things.

And seeing her smile and then turn to hug me so tightly….I think I did the right thing.

But feeling her stomach press against me….my heart breaks. 

Seeing all the little things our office got her…my heart breaks.

Hearing them all talk about due dates, and weights, and labor wards, and OB doctors….my heart breaks.

I will never get to experience that.
And it wouldn’t be so bad if I hadn’t been given a taste of that beautiful dream.

Felt the fluttering movement inside me.

Saw how everything was right and hopeful and so many were sweet and supportive.

Heard that heartbeat.

But my body is not worthy.  I am not worthy.

And so I watch others live my dreams.  And I hope that they realize what a beautiful gift they’ve been given.  That they are so very, very full.

And I am so very very empty.

Lost her…

I just got told when I tried to make an appointment with my GP that she’s no longer practicing.

I can’t even speak.

I was so stricken that I stumbled over a vague excuse and hung up.

What do I do?  Where do I go?  I don’t even know what to do.  She was so young- she said she was looking forward to being my doctor for a long time.

5 years isn’t enough.

It took me 3 to find her.

The universe is giving me signs again.  I don’t deserve help.

I don’t wanna do it again.

I can’t do it again.

I hate doctors.  I hate medicine.  I hate all of this.

I just want it to be over.  I just want it to end.  I can’t handle this.  But there’s no one I can go to.  No one. 

Be At Peace

I don’t want to take away from the grieving that is going on for Sara.  It’s not my place.  I just have to get my thoughts down about my friend I knew outside of these blogging walls that is also gone now.

But before I logged on here and saw about Sara, I was notified that a friend of mine committed suicide.  By hanging himself.  His poor girlfriend found him yesterday evening.

I can’t imagine that.  It’s just….I’m having a hard time just dealing with his death and he and I were never romantically involved.  In fact, he drove me nuts 90% of the time.  I have no alias for you readers as I didn’t really write about him.  I didn’t see him much lately.  I’m sad about that now.

He was only bipolar as far as I knew, but I know a lot of us keep our mental-health demons well hidden, especially with persons we know in real life, as opposed to the internet.

It isn’t officially known that he passed away yet.  I was only told because I’m close friends with his best friend.  I just don’t even know how to react.  I don’t know how to feel.

I intended to write about how I’ve been losing a lot of time and how a part of me is attempting to severe some relationship ties that I think they consider “unhealthy”.

But that all seems so petty and stupid now.

I’m here.

Despite some self-harm and minor health issues, I’m safe and sound.

The self-hatred hasn’t dragged me all the way down yet.

I bow my head for my friends who weren’t able to keep their heads above the water.  I know that water is dark and deep and it’s hard to keep treading.  You will find no judgment here, my friends.

Only love.

You are greatly missed.

Be well and at peace, wherever you are.

Edit/Note:  When I said “only bipolar” I did not mean that it is any lesser than any other mental-health diagnosis.  I only meant that his bipolar diagnosis was the only thing I was aware of.  I’m sure that in itself was a hard struggle for him daily.  I have no personal experience with being bipolar.  It was not my intention to offend anyone.  I apologize if I did.

Loss

This post is dedicated to Texas
(even though she doesn’t currently read my blog) 

Early this morning her grandmother passed away.  This is a woman who raised, sheltered, and loved Texas unconditionally while her mother and father struggled with a crippling drug habit that constantly threatened to destroy Texas’s childhood.
She has been battling cancer for months now- and this morning, she was finally called to rest and doesn’t have to be in pain anymore.

I wrote this for Texas; my best friend, the strongest woman I know- who is almost singlehandedly handling holding up her family and being supportive and helping with the necessary arrangements that need done, while also grieving for a woman who was essentially her mother.

I have been lucky enough to not have experienced the loss of a close family member (with the exception of my stepbrother, but he and I were not particularly close), so this poem is more of a empathetic supportive attempt at understanding loss.
______________________________________________________________

Loss

A girl thrown into darkness
A world apart
Nothing but a vast emptiness
A broken heart

These scratched out feelings
Can’t even express
Unending talk of angels and wings
When just trying to suppress

The need to run, to hide
To dig and dig and dig
That hole could hold her

While that sensation
Reverse déjà vu
On the edge of the mind

Something that can’t be forgotten
Remembered
Kept
Cherished

Stop saying those words:
“Are you okay?”
Nothing is okay
But despite that hole calling
Singing it’s sweet refrain
She manages to stand tall
A woman
Shining with all the strength, courage, and love
Of loss

Switching Frenzy

There’s so much going on.  It’s a lot, lot, lot.
I’m going to try and remain control but I’m not sure if I can.
The loss of Kit, our host, has devastated our system more that initially thought. At least in my opinion.
I know Roms and Claire are trying to be self-appointed leaders, but I don’t understand why they get to. I’m even mostly forgotten entirely. That isn’t fair at all. I know I’ve done some damage and some of the crueler alters like to refer to me as “The Cutter” (not a lie…).  But that’s for a good reason. If I didn’t do what I did then it would overwhelm us and we’d drown.

Sometimes drowning is awfully tempting though…

-Victoria

They’re all godd*mn f*cking idiots. All these stupid f*cking dependencies on pills, liquor, cutting, sex, starving themselves…it’s just so damn childish. Sometimes I think I need to just toss everyone in the f*cking backseat and hijack this body far away. Alaska or some sh*t like that. Where no one can truly know us and it can remain that way.

-Rika