Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night ~Dylan Thomas

She’s dead.  It’s strange how those two small words are so much harder to say than, ‘She passed away’ or ‘She didn’t make it’.  The power of words, and how they impact all of us differently is very evident to me right now.  I have not written much of anything since she died as words keep seeming to fail me.  Now that I am trying, it’s hard, but nothing in life is easy.  Not in my life anyway.  Losing her has put a lot of things in perspective, and I hope to work through the tough situations I’ve had in my life that I have let control me, and caused me to lose who I am.  I was already lost before she died, and I am even more so now that she is gone.

 

I was already off work for about 2 weeks, and had a stay at Lindner Center of Hope, to deal with my depression and anxiety.  I was let out Thursday night.  We texted on Friday and the last thing we said was ‘I love you’.  She texted me again Saturday about what to wear to her boyfriends charity boxing event that evening, and I agreed that sometimes you need another girl to help you pick something to wear.  The last text I got from her, the last one I will ever get, was ‘I know…’, and those two equally small words will stay with me forever in more ways than one.  First, I keep thinking if anyone of us wanted to say something to her like, ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘I love you’ or ‘I miss you’…her answer would always be ‘I know…’.  Second, I have ‘I know…’ now tattooed on my left hip with cherry blossom tree branches coming from it across my back to my right shoulder.  I choose that tree as it only blooms for a short period of time, and symbolizes how overwhelmingly beautiful life can be but also tragically short.  If I needed any indication that I choose the right tattoo it came in the form of a small bottle of hand sanitizer in some of her things I got from her mom, and it was Japanese Cherry Blossom scent.  We take signs anywhere we can get them sometimes.

 

On Sunday morning, March 2, 2014, I got a call from one of my current roommates, Dan.  I wasn’t doing much of anything, and when I answered the first thing he said was, “I have some bad news.  I don’t know the details, but I thought you would want to know.”

All I could say was, “Okay,” having no clue what could be coming next.

He said, “Lauren was in a car accident last night, and she passed away.”

My only reply before I started crying was, “What?”

I was in shock.  He had to get back to work, but I thanked him for calling and telling me.

The second I hung up the phone I fell to the floor sobbing, and I screamed.

“AMANDA…CHRIS…I NEED YOU…” was all I could get out to my other two roommates.  Chris hadn’t heard me, but Amanda did and as I told her what Dan had just called to tell me I felt like someone was ripping out my heart.  She tried to comfort me, but I had forgotten in that moment my son was in the other room watching a movie.  He had heard me too.  Avery came running in the room crying.  Amanda tried to calm him down and get him to go back in the living room.  He was having none of that.

 

He sat down on my lap, looked me in the eyes, and said, “Don’t be sad, be happy.”  Something Lauren would have said. ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oo4OnQpwjkc ;https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i0A3-wc0rpw )  I had already learned in the 3 ½ years since I had him how to control my emotions in front of him, so I pulled myself together.  I told myself I could break down once he went in his room for nap time.  I decided that I needed to call some of our friends, since I know if they knew before me they would call me.  As word got out the calls and text became endless.  We all wanted details, what happened?  I didn’t have that yet.  I kept waiting for someone to call me and tell me it was a mistake, someone got it wrong.  But it was real.  It is real.

 

Nothing will bring her back, but anything we can do in her memory keeps us going.  Lauren was one of my best friends for the past 10 years.  We dated brothers, we lived together in our early 20’s, we worked together in our mid 20’s, she was in the delivery room when my son was born, and we had seen each other through a lot.  She was there for me right up until the end…

 

“Two Songs For The World’s End

 

I

Bombs ripen on the leafless tree

under which the children play.

And there my darling all alone

dances in the spying day.

 

I gave her nerves to feel her pain,

I put her mortal beauty on.

I taught her love that hate might find,

its black work the easier done.

 

I sent her out alone to play;

and I must watch, and I must hear,

how underneath the leafless tree,

the children dance and sing with Fear.

 

II

Lighted by the rage of time

where the blind and dying weep,

in my shadow take your sleep,

though wakeful I.

 

Sleep unhearing while I pray –

Should the red tent of the sky

fall to fold your time away,

wake to weep before you die.

 

Die believing all is true

that love your maker said to you

Still believe

that had you lived you would have found

love, world, sight, sound,

sorrow, beauty – all true.

Grieve for death your moment – grieve.

 

The world, the lover you must take,

is the murderer you will meet.

But if you die before you wake

never think death sweet.”

― Judith A. Wright, Collected Poems, 1942 1970

 

I was already having trouble sleeping, but then I am having to take 50mg of Benadryl (which a lot of antihistamines help people sleep and are actually what is in most sleep aids), and 20mgs of Melatonin (the highest recommended dose approved by the FDA) just to sleep at night.  I had to remember to eat, or have someone remind me.  I started smoking again, which I had given up until recently except for occasional ones I might bum off my roommate Chris.  I have made a deal with one of Lauren’s brothers, Michael (and also from her Dad’s advice to decide one day to quit and throw them away), to quit smoking again.  I texted Michael that I ran out the other day, and haven’t had the heart to tell him that I bought another pack today.  It won’t be easy, and I may backslide, but I intent to keep my promise.  (Since I have told him and he is still supporting me on ‘re-quitting’!)

 

Lauren was one of a few people who knew about everything I have been through in my life, and was one of those who encouraged me to write about it.  I had a really good group counseling session, and I decided on my drive home that I was ready to start writing again.  Not the fiction stuff I normally write, or the fantasy novel I have written and don’t like; but something real.  I write this not only for Lauren, as she will come up in a lot of my memories over the past 10 years and is a way of remembering her; but also for myself and my son so I can deal with my depression and anxiety in a constructive way.  I do not know who would actually want to read this, but I hope to bring awareness to mental health.  I want to tell my story so people know what it is like to be someone that others tend to label as ‘Crazy’.

Since I’m going to tell my story I thought I’d began when I was born.  A few events may be off a year or so as our memory does tend to fail us as we get older, though I did talk with my mother to make it as accurate as possible.  A few things have also been changed, but only to protect certain peoples identity.  So here is where my life begins: 31 Years in 31 Chapters.

Mirage of Love and Death

Found some inspiration from A Dream Within a Dream by Edgar Allan Poe

I wish only that I was his!

Watching, waiting until ‘mes’ (my)

Life is something different from what it is

Sad do the days go by

Alone until the time Death comes and I shall die

Then will you remember me?

Maybe then I will be free

From your love that was never mine

If only there was a sign,

That I am wrong

And I hear our love as if it were a song.

I hold my breath under the sea

Until I see Death again coming for me

He grasps my hand;

Suddenly I am upon the land

Why me is it that he would save?

He answers ‘You I know, you who can be much more brave’

And then he walks away

But I am not ready to stay

Unless with me right here you will lay

How far you are across this desert I am banned

And from where I now stand

There is no hope for ‘us’

So letting go, I have learned through the many years, I must.

~Davina

A Reflection

A Reflection

There is a shadow looming in front of me, and the closer I get the more apprehensive I become.  My fear grows as I realize I am standing face to face with a mirror, and the image looking back at me is not one I recognize.  It is me, a me I no longer know, a me I feel I have never truly understood.  Sometimes I think I am average at best, but when I look, really look, on my bad days I find myself thinking how ugly and tired I appear to be.  Personally, when I stare at my own reflection it is not only the physical depiction I see but also the anger, resentment, mistakes, and regrets I try to keep buried deep inside my soul.  Depression and anxiety course through my entire being, and I can’t seem to find the strength to make it go away.  Instead I revel in it, I hold on tight, and greet it like an old friend.

I wonder what others genuinely see or think of me, from the first impression to a friendship down a long bumpy road it always remains somewhere in the back of my mind.  While some people may not care what others think; I know we all try but there comes a time it feels personal and affects everyone on some level of their consciousness.  Someone may sit around wondering why a specific person doesn’t like them, what they may have said or done wrong.  I sit around wondering why all the people in my life stick around or even care about me.  I am nothing special, I have not much to offer, I am a follower not a leader, and have perceived myself taking on traits of others because I feel I never had the chance to figure out who I was because of the negativity that has surrounded my life for so long.  With a mother who was a depressed, suicidal, mentally challenged person that became emotionally and physically abusive, I sense I lost the connection of the person I could have been.

Living in a house of lies through my formative years one might think I have a hard time trusting others; instead I trust too easily but I am never surprised when I am disappointed.  I do have friends there for me no matter how long its been since we’ve even exchanged a few words; and yet I am alone.  I feel alone.  I chain smoke, drink coffee, and write.  When I go out I can not control the pang of jealousy that hits when I see someone with a baby, as it reminds me of the second child I didn’t have.  I cried when I was told it is best I don’t have children anymore after the last one had to be ended; I don’t like that my choice has been taken away from me.

I am slowly losing my grip on sanity when I see that reflection of myself in the mirror.  I think about getting off my medication, and having another baby even if it would make me a single mom with 2 children instead of just my son.  I can not see myself actually doing it, because it doesn’t bring the other one back, and nothing could replace the hole in my heart except the one thing they say: time heals all wounds.

With all of that going on inside me, I am still here, and I live each day for my 3 year old son (whom I believe is a genius already!).  We all have bad days, hated ourselves for one thing or another, made mistakes, and have regrets.  When I am out with friends I may sometimes put on a brave happy face, but after a while the pretending to be positive actually becomes real; the more positive you try to be the more it happens.  I learned that I am not alone even when it seems like I am.  Jen is my blue sapphire, my constant, truth, and calm through every storm I face.  Ashley is my ruby, passionate, loving, and Ash burns as bright red as our identical Sag. fire sign suggests.  Emily is my emerald, down to earth with a peaceful disposition I can always count on to bring me hope like that of a new spring, and Em is my (as she once wrote for me) ‘I wish I could show you, when you are lonely or in darkness, the astonishing light of your own being…’  Megan is my diamond, brilliant, joyful, and so full of life one can not help but feel like every day is worth living when she is around.

When you see your reflection in the water, the mirror, or a store window what do you truly see?  The negative is there and I don’t ask anyone to overcome it because sometimes its just too strong and will break you instead.  But if you can find a way to glimpse a positive balance to equal out that negative; I promise you one day you’ll make it out the other side.

                   

             Davina

A Perspective on Life

A Perspective on Life

Life is a characteristic that distinguishes objects that have signaling and self-sustaining process from those that do not, either because such functions have ceased (death), or else because they lack such functions and are classified as inanimate.

To begin I will admit that I have had a hard time coming up with a topic for my first blog.  I felt at our first meeting for our Belle Donne group last night (on 8/14/13) Jen, Megan, Emily, and Ashley had a better perspective on what was required for this group blog than myself.   This would not be the first time I felt like I was a little slower or more behind than others; actually I would say it has happened my whole life.  My mother and half-brother, Ernie, both have serious mental delays, and I have always had a fear that in some way I inherited this as well.  Between understanding things at school to how life works in general in the ‘real world’ I believe it took me until I was 27 and had my son to truly grasp this in a better sense; and to which I am still learning everyday.

I honestly believe that a lot of what happens to us in life are things we don’t expect while we are too busy looking the other way.  It has seriously been that way for me in my own personal experience.  How many times do you find yourself thinking ‘if only I knew then what I know now?’  For myself it would be more times than I can count.  When we pass away or if we happened to be inanimate objects (which if you are either of these two things and are reading this that would be really awesome and strange!) we would not be dealing with what we experience in life; love, hate, happiness, sadness, anger, disappointment, fear, and more.  I love coffee, I hate driving on the highway, hearing my son laugh makes me happy, thinking of the other child I didn’t have makes me sad, ignorance to the feeling of others makes me angry, not finishing college makes me feel disappointed, and I have a fear of falling.

That would be my perspective on life on a day to day basis, but what about on a larger scale?  I decided to write about this because I recently had a conversation with my ex about our difference of opinion in events that happened between us last year.  Mike said he didn’t want to argue about it, and I agreed because what was in the past was going to stay there anyway, and we all have our own version of our own life not someone elses.  He put it the best way I have ever heard when he responded with, ‘while it may be true that we all have a version of life (i hypothesize that this is due to the subjective nature of consciousness in this universe), not all can see what we want… even so, it is good to acknowledge that everyone has their own perspective on events… this can be a source of strength and insight one can carry into the big, crazy world.’

I believe someone once said, ‘there are two sides to every story…and then there is the truth.’  So I have decided to try to work on more patience and understanding of others in my on growing perspective on life;  because even if I am right about something doesn’t mean the other person is wrong.  The one person I would thank the most for my own personal appreciation on seeing life differently would be my 3 year old son.  We all have our own personal things in life that helps us feel calmer, slow down for a while, and take it one day at a time.  For me it is my son with helping me realize to just have fun sometimes and not always take life so seriously; my ‘bright side’ even in the dark times we face in this life.

Davina