Ten years ago today, I got a call I never would have imagined. Ten years ago today, the news shocked me to the point of me collapsing to the floor. Ten years ago today, I lost someone I cared about deeply.
I spent Memorial Day at a BBQ in the park with a group of friends. After the BBQ was over, I visited some friends in their home, just to say hello. I cannot remember how long I stayed or what we talked about. But afterwards, I drove home alone.
The light was blinking on the machine. I had a message or two. One was from my father, asking me to call him. He had bad news to share. Truthfully, I couldn't even fathom what kind of news he was ready to tell me. If I would have known, maybe I would never have called.
I returned the call only to find out that my stepmom Laura had died that day. I imagined a car accident where cars spun out of control or another sort of accident which may have instantly taken her life. But, I would not have imagined that when I asked how he would have hesitated to tell me. He said that she took her own life. The nice way to say that she chose to kill herself.
I felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach and knocked all the wind out of me. I remember pacing from my kitchen to the living room and back, over and over, as I talked on the phone. I asked for more details, I tried to understand.
My dad explained that she had been missing for several days and that only today they found her car parked at a campsite on Mt. Diablo and found her body in a nearby ravine, full of pills and alcohol; she had left the can of Drano in the car. She had smoked several cigarettes while she was waiting for it all to take effect.
I remember that my dad asked if there was anything he could do for me. I couldn't even imagine what. He was a couple hours away and I was alone in my apartment with my knees giving away. I called a friend of mine who drove 45 minutes to see me and my roommate unexpectedly came home that evening.
I sobbed and sobbed. I don't remember any of the conversation that night. I don't remember going to bed. I don't remember my thoughts about it all.
I just remember that 10 years ago today, my life was changed.
Showing posts with label past. Show all posts
Showing posts with label past. Show all posts
31 May 2009
28 May 2009
unwanted
Today, I am feeling unwanted. Surely there is a series of things that lead me to think, feel and even believe this.
I need to move out of the place I am living. I was told that almost 10 days ago. I have no where to go and no idea where to even look. The very fact that I am still here allows the feeling of guilt to creep in and take root. I feel bad that I am taking up space, taking up attention and simply have not yet moved on from here.
My family has hardly contacted me. Supposedly there was a lot of excitement that I was returning to the states. Somehow that excitement must have meant, we are really excited that you are not only moving back to the states but that now you will make every effort to be part of our lives, not the other way around. I feel frustrated and hurt that I have to be the one to coordinate visiting them and coordinate all of their schedules. I wish they would have made the effort to come and see me or the effort to plan something that I could go down to. But instead, there is this feeling of we are content without you, fit in if you find a place. Again, unwanted.
There are so many other facets of my life right now where if I weren't around, it feels as though it would not matter. As if people wouldn't really care if I were here or not. That, for me, is an awful feeling.
I think there are lots of situations throughout my life that I have just felt unwanted, discarded, and in the way. With friends and with family. Literally, I could write and write and write all the moments at home, at school and so many other places where I just felt less than, felt unwanted and not cared for.
So what am I to do about it? How do I get past that? Yes, I long to express that to someone, to be heard and still accepted. How can I grieve that feeling and instead replace it with something else? Where does it come from?
What do I do when these present situations trigger past feelings? How do I press through them? How do I grieve them? How do I grow from them?
I need to move out of the place I am living. I was told that almost 10 days ago. I have no where to go and no idea where to even look. The very fact that I am still here allows the feeling of guilt to creep in and take root. I feel bad that I am taking up space, taking up attention and simply have not yet moved on from here.
My family has hardly contacted me. Supposedly there was a lot of excitement that I was returning to the states. Somehow that excitement must have meant, we are really excited that you are not only moving back to the states but that now you will make every effort to be part of our lives, not the other way around. I feel frustrated and hurt that I have to be the one to coordinate visiting them and coordinate all of their schedules. I wish they would have made the effort to come and see me or the effort to plan something that I could go down to. But instead, there is this feeling of we are content without you, fit in if you find a place. Again, unwanted.
There are so many other facets of my life right now where if I weren't around, it feels as though it would not matter. As if people wouldn't really care if I were here or not. That, for me, is an awful feeling.
I think there are lots of situations throughout my life that I have just felt unwanted, discarded, and in the way. With friends and with family. Literally, I could write and write and write all the moments at home, at school and so many other places where I just felt less than, felt unwanted and not cared for.
So what am I to do about it? How do I get past that? Yes, I long to express that to someone, to be heard and still accepted. How can I grieve that feeling and instead replace it with something else? Where does it come from?
What do I do when these present situations trigger past feelings? How do I press through them? How do I grieve them? How do I grow from them?
24 May 2009
stuck
I feel uncomfortable in my environment. Not because my environment is making me uncomfortable but because that storm has taken residence in my heart. So instead of being among others, I find it easier to hide and avoid how I feel since I cannot seem to numb how I feel. I know these are not the right steps to take to deal with my issues.
These are the moments when I feel like a little girl and I just wish someone would reach out to me and help me to process what is in my heart. I simply cannot deal with it, don't know how to deal with it and I need help. Yet, the road to seek help is the hardest on for me to walk on.
What do I need right now? To just be heard. To be able to share what is going on in my head, to be heard and to still be loved and accepted. And I hate that I need anything from anybody. I wish I could deal with all of this on my own. I know that I can't, but still I try.
I am mad that I even have to face these things at all. I am mad that there is so much hurt inside me that it hurts to even just get it out. I am mad that I cannot face things once and be over them. I am mad that I had to just learn to deal with things alone; that it is the only way I know.
When will all of these things inside of me be healed? When will I feel whole?
These are the moments when I feel like a little girl and I just wish someone would reach out to me and help me to process what is in my heart. I simply cannot deal with it, don't know how to deal with it and I need help. Yet, the road to seek help is the hardest on for me to walk on.
What do I need right now? To just be heard. To be able to share what is going on in my head, to be heard and to still be loved and accepted. And I hate that I need anything from anybody. I wish I could deal with all of this on my own. I know that I can't, but still I try.
I am mad that I even have to face these things at all. I am mad that there is so much hurt inside me that it hurts to even just get it out. I am mad that I cannot face things once and be over them. I am mad that I had to just learn to deal with things alone; that it is the only way I know.
When will all of these things inside of me be healed? When will I feel whole?
feeling protected
Today, my heart is longing to feel safe and protected. I think about the many times throughout my life which I have simply not felt that way. It seems like I typically felt unsafe and unprotected by others. Those others being people who should have sought to protect me. My childhood was riddled with moments of feeling unsafe and my adulthood is now stained with the same feelings.
So, I have learned through the majority of my experiences that I must take care of myself. I must learn to protect myself. I must make sure I am safe. I can count on no one else to do that for me.
So how do I reconcile that with the reality that God wants to protect me, wants to keep me safe, wants to be my shelter, wants to hide me under His wings. How do I trust that someone else will be there to protect and shelter me? How do I believe that I don't always have to rely on myself? This is hard for me to understand and I am struggling today to not be envious of so many people around me who do in fact have those protectors in life; people who serve to keep them safe.
Why did God allow me so many experiences for me to learn the very opposite of what he truly wants for me to know? This is confusing and so very hard to unlearn.
So, I have learned through the majority of my experiences that I must take care of myself. I must learn to protect myself. I must make sure I am safe. I can count on no one else to do that for me.
So how do I reconcile that with the reality that God wants to protect me, wants to keep me safe, wants to be my shelter, wants to hide me under His wings. How do I trust that someone else will be there to protect and shelter me? How do I believe that I don't always have to rely on myself? This is hard for me to understand and I am struggling today to not be envious of so many people around me who do in fact have those protectors in life; people who serve to keep them safe.
Why did God allow me so many experiences for me to learn the very opposite of what he truly wants for me to know? This is confusing and so very hard to unlearn.
elevator
Once, I was stuck in an elevator. My mom and I lived in an apartment building. It was the first time I lived anywhere but a house. I had always had a yard around a one story house. The apartments had one or maybe more elevators. I would usually choose to ride the elevator, maybe out of novelty, maybe out of laziness.
I went through a time when I would play a game and sort of fight the elevator. I would try to hold the doors open while they tried to close. I have no idea how this game started, but I would do it whenever I got in the elevator alone.
On one particular day, I did the same thing. As the doors began to close, with all my strength I tried to keep them open. It wasn't so much that I wanted them to stay open but I wanted to fight was was happening. I pushed against the force of the elevator and on that fateful day I managed to cause something different to happen.
Instead of the inside doors simply taking longer to close, they stayed slightly open. By a few inches. The elevator wasn't properly closed and it wasn't going to go up or down. The outside door was tightly shut and the inside ones had a crack big enough to stick my hand through. I began to consider how I would live in that elevator for the rest of my life. They would have to push a blanket through for me to use to sleep and food for me to eat.
At some point, I knocked, I press buttons. Then, I began to pound and yell. I was stuck on the first floor and was trying to make it to our apartment on the third floor. I could hear people gathering around the outside door, yelling things to me. There was one point in which my mother was outside the door and loudly asked if anyone was in the elevator with me, with panic in her voice. I yelled back NO! I was not afraid of anyone and what they might do to me; I was fearful of living out my days in a square metal box.
More people gathered outside the doors. At some point a crowbar was being used to pry open the outside of one of the doors. People were trying to talk with me, my mother sounded hysterical. I heard talk of calling 911; or that they had already been called. There was total confusion and a flurry of talk and commotion.
At some point, the door to the elevator on my floor was forced open. Something was reset and the inside door closed and opened completely. I was free to live outside of the metal lined room for the remainder of my life. There was such relief in me.
But once I got out, I felt guilty. Guilty for causing such commotion. Guilty for thinking I would live there forever. Most of all, I then had to see my hysterical mother. I was the one responsible for her distress.
I guess the difficult thing was that as a child, I would have liked to have been comforted. Instead I was the comforter. That's messed up!
I went through a time when I would play a game and sort of fight the elevator. I would try to hold the doors open while they tried to close. I have no idea how this game started, but I would do it whenever I got in the elevator alone.
On one particular day, I did the same thing. As the doors began to close, with all my strength I tried to keep them open. It wasn't so much that I wanted them to stay open but I wanted to fight was was happening. I pushed against the force of the elevator and on that fateful day I managed to cause something different to happen.
Instead of the inside doors simply taking longer to close, they stayed slightly open. By a few inches. The elevator wasn't properly closed and it wasn't going to go up or down. The outside door was tightly shut and the inside ones had a crack big enough to stick my hand through. I began to consider how I would live in that elevator for the rest of my life. They would have to push a blanket through for me to use to sleep and food for me to eat.
At some point, I knocked, I press buttons. Then, I began to pound and yell. I was stuck on the first floor and was trying to make it to our apartment on the third floor. I could hear people gathering around the outside door, yelling things to me. There was one point in which my mother was outside the door and loudly asked if anyone was in the elevator with me, with panic in her voice. I yelled back NO! I was not afraid of anyone and what they might do to me; I was fearful of living out my days in a square metal box.
More people gathered outside the doors. At some point a crowbar was being used to pry open the outside of one of the doors. People were trying to talk with me, my mother sounded hysterical. I heard talk of calling 911; or that they had already been called. There was total confusion and a flurry of talk and commotion.
At some point, the door to the elevator on my floor was forced open. Something was reset and the inside door closed and opened completely. I was free to live outside of the metal lined room for the remainder of my life. There was such relief in me.
But once I got out, I felt guilty. Guilty for causing such commotion. Guilty for thinking I would live there forever. Most of all, I then had to see my hysterical mother. I was the one responsible for her distress.
I guess the difficult thing was that as a child, I would have liked to have been comforted. Instead I was the comforter. That's messed up!
21 May 2009
college
So my friends are picking up their daughter at college. I think it is great that even as she finishes her second year of higher level education, they still interact in such a way that there is interdependence and counting on one another. They return tomorrow and there will be a few short weeks of the whole family being together before others go away for summer projects.
I guess for me though, there is this pang of sadness, of disappointment. Not because she is coming home, but because I am reminded that I missed out.
My last few weeks of high school, there was a lot of friction in my home from a recent marriage between my mom and her practically-still-a-teenager husband and their new son born exactly nine months and a day after their vows. My "first love" had dumped me. The day after prom. My birthday. Life was rough and I needed somewhere to feel better about things. I remember taking refuge in my friend's home. Her family accepted me as part and I ate meals, slept over and even housesat when they took my friend to college.
When it was my turn to head north and check myself in to the dorms at Sac State, I think I assumed that someone would take me as well. At that point, I essentially had four to choose from. I even asked each one, well probably three out of four, to go with me. To take me. To drop me off. To help me settle in. One by one they refused. Too busy. Weren't comfortable. Would drive up later.
The night before I drove away, I sat up talking to my ex most of the night. You know, the dumped-me-on-my-birthday guy? Most of the night meaning I got home sometime before dawn and packed the back part of my truck up with boxes, bags and whatever else I decided was important for me to have there. That meant carrying things down the stairs and heading back up, alone, after each load. Maybe they were sleeping, maybe just watching. I have no recollection. Likely I don't want to remember. At that point, it felt like every other day in my life so far. Alone and having to fend for myself.
Exhausted and falling asleep at the wheel I drove up highway 5 in order to arrive at Desmond Hall in time for the sun to soon appear. New city. New life. New friends. I was thrilled and excited to begin my college adventure. Just as I had carried all the boxes down the stairs to my car when I left home, I had to carry everything up several flights of stairs to create my new Sacramento home.
My roommate, Allyson, brought along her parents, her best friend and her boyfriend. I had none of those. Her mom thought I was "easy" because I appeared so independent. The funny thing is, at that point I didn't really see anything strange about my situation. I had grown really used to the way I was forced to live my life - alone and self-sufficient. Ally and I became fast friends and my parents even came the following Saturday to visit and see where home was now for me.
From my point of view now, I cannot believe that I went alone. After not having slept. That I packed alone. That I unpacked alone. I am sad that I wasn't cared for. That no one was around to help me. In some ways I cannot even express what I think and feel about it. It is as though I am speechless. I am left without words.
But as I think about my friends picking up their daughter after her second full year away, something in me cries out with envy. Why wasn't someone there for me? Why did I have to learn to live life alone so young? It is hard for me to know, painful for me to remember and sad to consider. What if things had been different? What if one of my parents had taken time out of their day that day to travel along with me and make sure I was taken care of? What if one had actually been a parent that day?
I hope their daughter knows how lucky she is.
I guess for me though, there is this pang of sadness, of disappointment. Not because she is coming home, but because I am reminded that I missed out.
My last few weeks of high school, there was a lot of friction in my home from a recent marriage between my mom and her practically-still-a-teenager husband and their new son born exactly nine months and a day after their vows. My "first love" had dumped me. The day after prom. My birthday. Life was rough and I needed somewhere to feel better about things. I remember taking refuge in my friend's home. Her family accepted me as part and I ate meals, slept over and even housesat when they took my friend to college.
When it was my turn to head north and check myself in to the dorms at Sac State, I think I assumed that someone would take me as well. At that point, I essentially had four to choose from. I even asked each one, well probably three out of four, to go with me. To take me. To drop me off. To help me settle in. One by one they refused. Too busy. Weren't comfortable. Would drive up later.
The night before I drove away, I sat up talking to my ex most of the night. You know, the dumped-me-on-my-birthday guy? Most of the night meaning I got home sometime before dawn and packed the back part of my truck up with boxes, bags and whatever else I decided was important for me to have there. That meant carrying things down the stairs and heading back up, alone, after each load. Maybe they were sleeping, maybe just watching. I have no recollection. Likely I don't want to remember. At that point, it felt like every other day in my life so far. Alone and having to fend for myself.
Exhausted and falling asleep at the wheel I drove up highway 5 in order to arrive at Desmond Hall in time for the sun to soon appear. New city. New life. New friends. I was thrilled and excited to begin my college adventure. Just as I had carried all the boxes down the stairs to my car when I left home, I had to carry everything up several flights of stairs to create my new Sacramento home.
My roommate, Allyson, brought along her parents, her best friend and her boyfriend. I had none of those. Her mom thought I was "easy" because I appeared so independent. The funny thing is, at that point I didn't really see anything strange about my situation. I had grown really used to the way I was forced to live my life - alone and self-sufficient. Ally and I became fast friends and my parents even came the following Saturday to visit and see where home was now for me.
From my point of view now, I cannot believe that I went alone. After not having slept. That I packed alone. That I unpacked alone. I am sad that I wasn't cared for. That no one was around to help me. In some ways I cannot even express what I think and feel about it. It is as though I am speechless. I am left without words.
But as I think about my friends picking up their daughter after her second full year away, something in me cries out with envy. Why wasn't someone there for me? Why did I have to learn to live life alone so young? It is hard for me to know, painful for me to remember and sad to consider. What if things had been different? What if one of my parents had taken time out of their day that day to travel along with me and make sure I was taken care of? What if one had actually been a parent that day?
I hope their daughter knows how lucky she is.
17 May 2009
dealing with pain
You know when you go to the dentist and they want to do some awful procedure? The give you something to numb the area. When it is as drastic as wisdom teeth removal, they give you enough to put you under. Why is that? So you don't feel the pain! They don't want you to react to the procedure. They don't want you to pass out from the pain. I am sure there are other reasons as well.
So my thought this morning is, why then do I have to bring up all of this pain from my past in order to deal with it all? Why do I have to feel it all? I learned when I was young to put the pain somewhere were it did not affect me. Why is it that I have to bring it all back out and walk through it now? I like when things are neatly packed away and the thought of opening up all of those things in order to sort through them all is exhausting! I want to leave them packed away in their nicely marked boxes.
At the same I see people with pain packed away inside and I know that is not what I want to live like either. I am caught in between. I want to get it all out, yet I want to keep it all in. I feel almost frozen in that stage and don't know where to go from here.
So my thought this morning is, why then do I have to bring up all of this pain from my past in order to deal with it all? Why do I have to feel it all? I learned when I was young to put the pain somewhere were it did not affect me. Why is it that I have to bring it all back out and walk through it now? I like when things are neatly packed away and the thought of opening up all of those things in order to sort through them all is exhausting! I want to leave them packed away in their nicely marked boxes.
At the same I see people with pain packed away inside and I know that is not what I want to live like either. I am caught in between. I want to get it all out, yet I want to keep it all in. I feel almost frozen in that stage and don't know where to go from here.
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