Sunday, November 11, 2012

Journal: I would beg for a freight train


Dear Journal

On my 19th birthday I was working at the airport. For my job I was packing cargo holds and cleaning seats and toilets of the aircrafts. I had been up since 4 am and finished the day at 3pm. I got home and showered, put on my best clothes and went out to the movies. That night was the premier of the first Spiderman movie. Afterwards I got my favourite pizza, some beer and went home. I vegie’d in front the TV, watched my several episodes of Buffy, ate the pizza, drank the beer and downed 70 Panadol.

The year before I had been dealing with a family loss and basically flunked out of High School. I was despondent and down. At the time I couldn’t see any point in moving forward. So I decided not to. However the pills didn’t take and I woke in the morning with a massive headache and at the time my worst stomach cramps.

When I was 27 I had finished my Sunday shift at work. There was nothing special about the day. It in itself was fine. But I wasn’t. That night I finished at nine, got home and drunk a bottle of Jack Daniels. I also took all my sleeping pills and all my anti-depression meds. Over one hundred pills in total. I honestly don’t know how I survived that night, but the next several days were rough.

See the thing is, it’s not about those days itself but about the time before hand. The months before had been a complete misery. Emotional pain that tore up my insides. Pain that I tried to hide, I don’t know if I did a good job of it, and that eventually became too much for me. It got to the point were eventually I just stopped feeling. There would be times were I was so calm and feeling like I was at peace. I now know it was because I knew that it would soon be over.

Yesterday I had only 30 minutes sleep. I woke, went to work feeling the pain inside that I had been feeling for a year. That grief had become an old friend. It was the same, every day. When I got home I finally made it to bed and The Sandman put me out for a good 7 hours.

Yet when I woke, that pain was gone and I was calm again. I wasn’t feeling any other emotion but calm and it scared the crap out of me. I didn’t snooze today. I got up and went right to work. Even work didn’t effect me. No matter who called, what they said or how they were, I just was calm.

And yet I was also extremely freaked out by it because I know when I feel like this I am close to losing it entirely

Yet I cant tell anyone. Who could I tell anyway? Who would care? I honestly cannot think of one person that it would matter to.

I lost my friends and social life because of family. So I know they wouldn’t be there. For my family we are obligations to each other. I have know for my whole life that for ‘Him’ I never measured up to what his ideal of a son should be and the other was his favourite. I know ‘He’ loves me and that he would be saddened if I left. But not by much. The one I wanted to count on left due to my anger and jealousy. I have tried but nothing I can do to fix that situation, so where is the hope.

I know that this will pass and soon the sorrow comes back. But I also know this is only the start of it. It will soon get worse and more frequent. We are told it gets better. And that is true but it also gets worse.

I don’t want to go. I don’t want to die. There is so much I want to do with my life. So much I wanted from my life. But it’s all getting fainter. Dimmer if you will. I don’t want it to be gone. I know there is a light at the end but it’s moving away and not getting closer.

But I am being too dramatic. Maybe I should save it for my writing. I must be looking too deeply into something that probably isn’t even important.

Hopefully tomorrow this will pass. I shouldn’t dwell. It’s nothing really.
I will rest and maybe tomorrow this kingdom will be the same sorrowful place I have come to know.

Goodnight for now. 

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