Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Because You Asked That I Be Honest

Inner Dialogue while writing this post: "Are you sure you want to blog about this? You know, you have that funny story about how you're sure your viginity has grown back. Maybe you should tell that story. Give the people what they want."

Sorry looks like you're gonna have to wait until Friday for that one. Instead, I give you this and say, it is taking every fiber of my being not to hit "DELETE."

When I was 24, I felt like my world was falling apart. My Dad was sick again and needing a kidney transplant. I found myself not only stunned, but just as unprepared to face this surgery as I had at 14 when he needed a heart transplant. How could I be in the SAME place in my life, twice in my life?

Scared, unprepared, emotional, angry, regretful, powerless.

It's amazing how all your unresolved issues will come back to haunt you when you've done nothing to deal with them the first time.

Today, there were so many things I wanted to post about... silly things, like the joys of half price Easter candy. But I could feel that I was trying to hide from something. An uncomfortable feeling that reading all these old journals of mine was giving me. I hoped if I stayed with that uncomfortable feeling and continued to turn pages, it would show itself to me.

And then it did.

In this entry, I am writing about the unimaginable death of my cousin Michael when I was 14.

"The thing about Michael, that loss has always haunted me. It's weird how I feel... I guess I'm surprised that I actually FEEL. I'm crying because I miss him but also because I know what it's done to me. I've put up this wall to my friends, my family, to the people who should mean the most to me. And it freaks me out that I could put up a barrier where I won't let anyone mean ANYTHING to me.

"I just don't want to go through it again. (At this point, I had no idea, that I would indeed go through it again with David's death). I don't want to be torn up, devastated again by losing someone I love. It feels better just to feel nothing than risking ever feeling again. But I'm only 24."

Ten years after Michael's death and I still had not moved one inch away from my grief and I let it TAKE so much from me.

When David died two years ago, I was so used to just retreating into myself. It just did not occur to me to handle it any other way. Or so I thought. Then I read this from the day I found out David had been killed:

"And he says (my boyfriend at the time), 'What can I do for you?' And I say, 'Nothing.' But I want to say, 'Please don't let me be alone. Come over, come into my bed and hold me. Be there for me like I've never let anyone be there for me before. Let me be vunerable and scared and cry and feel comfort.'

Instead, I hung up the phone."

I knew that if I started crying, it would never end. I would cry for David, but certainly, all the pent up grief from Michael's death would drown me.

Same place. In my life. Twice. And again.

I started this blog because my uncle told me that he was not going for the death penalty for the person who killed David because my cousin would want his killer to have a second chance. As David's second anniversary of death was looming, I thought of that story. I thought, "David would want me to have a second chance, too."

That's when I got out of bed and started telling the truth about my life. Letting you guys be there for me like I have never let anyone be there for me before.

This blog is dedicated to blogger's remorse and holding back from the delete button.



em said...

I truly admire you for opening up your life to all of us like this.
Personally, it was too painful to read my old journals so I mailed them away (currently MIA-gah!) or burned them. Looking back on it, those were probably not the brightest ideas but, well, live and learn, right?
As far as the "wall" goes, I received an e-mail this past week telling me I've put a barrier up in yet another relationship. Sometimes, being called out like that, makes me feel like the barrier is warranted. Or perhaps I should get thicker skin :P
I'm still pondering the blog but you'll be the first I call on when I need help making it "pretty" hehe

Anonymous said...

This entry was moving and really spoke to me. Its amazing how we think we've grown and evolved. But sometimes the pain of certain experiences, and the issues that evolve from them,creep up and we feel as if we'll never be free. Thank you for showing me I'm not alone. I've often shut people out, been accused of being heartless or detached. But I guess i've always believed that its not really loss or pain if you never allow yourself to feel anything to begin with. The beauty of your blog is that, even with your struggles and your demons, you are really trying to breakthrough. Even more, serving as an amazing inspiration. Thank you! I hope you write a book someday and let your journey be a guide for others in pain.


I think you have amazing strength and I've only begun to read you as of recent..

walls are important to have on occasion, but to break them is the true test...

Good Wednesday to you,

TwinkleTwinkle said...

A grandfather who I was very close to committed suicide for unknown reasons when I was 16. I had just got back from vacation in California. To this day I remember about 10% of that vacation, and 100% of the call I got when I got off the plane. I still cry like a baby when I see his picture, and that was 5 years ago. almost to the day. And this was following the suicide of my neighbor a few months before, and a close friend 3 days after. I was an emotional WRECK. but the only thing that taught me is is to LET people into your life. you never know how long they are going to be there for.

Cathy said...

Thank you for sharing with us. I admire the strength I know it must have taken to do this post. Wow, at such young ages we have both gone through so much.
This post spoke to me especially the line where you write about not wanting to feel anything ever again. I remember feeling that way after my husband died. Didnt want to risk happiness for fear it would be taken away, didnt want to feel that kind of pain again.
I think that a huge part of the healing process is "feeling" which makes it so dam hard, it is much easier to put our feelings away, tucked far away somewhere. You are stronger than you know....keep on writing, talking or whatever you need to do to "feel" so eventually it will be behind you.
It took me a long time and many tears to get to the point where I can now think of my husband and smile without tears....
I am here for you girl! :)

Anonymous said...

I enjoyed your blog last night into the wee hours and was laughing and crying. You bring a smile to my heart, thanks for helping me as I recover. Carolyn

Anonymous said...

your cousin would want you to have a second chance, but you wanting that for yourself is even more important. and even with setbacks, i think you still do want that more than anything else.

RadoMom said...

I have a feeling your cousin would be incredibly proud and honored that you had the courage to take that second chance... and to write about it for us.

No deleting this one. Maybe David will help all of us get our second chances.

Monica said...

Abstaining from the delete button can be a wonderful thing!
I hope now that you've felt some sort of release, as opposed to some sort of looming doom. People wouldn't be reading this blog (hopefully) if all it contained was sunshine, roses, rainbows, and comical quips. We come here because we care about you, we care about what you're going through, and we want to be a part of your journey upward. At least I know I do. We come here because some of us can relate so heavily to many of the things you say that it feels like I brain jumped into your fingers and typed our thoughts for us through you. You move us, you inspire us, and you show us that there's a way out, even if it takes being called ma'am and talking to your mother about vibrators, and that even when it's bad, it can get better. :)

((for the record, replace every "us" with either me or I and you get my true point, I just didn't want to call myself out too much! haha))

Anonymous said...

Dear Adventure grrl,
This post was really touching and I don't know what to say. First I am sorry that you have had to deal with so much loss.

I actually feel bad sometimes because I put my son through so much with the sarcoid and the surgeries, I bet your dad feels the same way. I remember so many things I have done with my son to make him forget that I am sick, but I had to have heart surgery on his birthday when I took the whole week off to take him ice skating. I had lymph node surgery on the morning that he through a ball through our front window and I was so selfish all I thought about was my feelings. I was so afraid that I would die and he would think I died mad at him and he would grow up damaged because of me. I know your dad probably feels the same way, but he is a guy so he will never tell you.

I want to offer you encouragement to keep up the writing but this post touched so much on a personal level that I don't even know what to say to you.

Thank you,

thesleepycat said...

you inspire me to tell the truth - or at least start to - in my own life. thank you for your wisdom and bravery and joy. =]

Anonymous said...

Hey...I used to talk to you on the Self site...I also had a cousin who was murdered and than two years later I lost my big brother. I was just teen - and pretty much grew up behind a wall that I built out of anger and blame. Kudos on sharing how strong you truly are.

adventure grrl said...

Ferretspaz27 - Hi sweetie, I know it must be hard for you to read some of the things I write. Just so you know, I have an awesome relationship with my Dad now. If I could wish one thing back for that time, it would be that they would just have told me more of the truth. My anxiety at that time really came from being a perceptive kid and not feeling safe when my parents said, "Everything is fine."

Then why is a priest coming over to read dad his last rites? Then why are they behind closed dorrs with a lawyer doing a will, he's only 40? Then why are they splitting me and my sisters up so they can fly 3,000 miles away so my father can have his heart taken out and given a new one?

At some time I will post about my once "brilliant" idea to just detach from my Dad and not love him so I could always be prepared if he doed not to get hurt. That was a lot of wasted years when we could have been as close as we are now.

I guess in the end, I'm just trying to say kids are smart and sometimes making them feeling included in the illness (what you think they can handle) will make them feel less afraid and powerless.


adventure grrl said...

Anonymous, Girl, I remember you. I am so sorry for all that you've been through. If you need to talk I'm here!

And to all of you, your comments make my heart swell, push me on, give me strength. Twinkletwinkle, I hear you. Those memories are so branded in me. It just becomes a part of you, huh? But I'm trying to get better about sharing it with friends.

Monica, thanks, I needed to here that. I really did.

And Radomom, what a beautiful thought. That made me cry, but in a good way!

Anonymous said...

There have been so many times in my life that I've wished for a gift of no monetary value to give to my parents, my grandparents, or my sister.

Usually we don't get chances like that until we're older.

Anytime you have a moment like that, SEIZE IT. Grab it tight, and send it out with an intensity that makes your body shake. Feel every ounce of love that you pour out to your loved ones. Beam it to them like you're the freakin' SUN. :)

Giving is the best feeling in the whole world. Your gift to your father is love beyond words. Your gift to your bloggers (and yourself!) is inspiring.

You're handing out love like loaves of bread - we're all eating it up. :)

Monica said...

AG- It's the truth. And if you ever need to talk, even vent or tell a witty joke that no one else finds funny, don't you dare hesitate to message me on CSLife or email me or anything. Just stay positive, love!

Carrie said...

ooh honey if I were gay you would SO be my choice of partner. I adore you. You make me laugh and cry and every so often cringe at knowing just how you feel.