I Feel Okay In The Daytime. But At Nighttime. You Know How I Get. When I’m Alone.

Editor’s Note/**UPDATED** Update as of 9/16/2020: I haven’t heard from my best friend LK in almost a month (8/22/2020 to be exact). (And fffffuuuuuuccckk bridges and fuck me — why does ANYONE who had enough time to look at my “Facebook stories” decide I’m not worth a text?! It takes 10 seconds. Tell me “go fuck yourself” if you’re mad. But don’t ghost. #Church. I guess I lost her too. I cannot mourn people who are alive anymore. I’ve lost too many people to ACTUAL death — I just can’t deal with those still alive who decide to act dead to me. (My most amazing ** new** Sister — meaning we’re not related by blood, however, CONTINUES to be a ROCK for me. She’s incredible and I love her so much ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️). So I guess that means cutting down my emotional availability (because I’m SO in demand already 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄😂😂😂😂🤣!!!!!) to opening my heart. I know I know. Whambulance party of me. I just don’t believe I deserve to be loved anymore. And I need to go somewhere that’s not here to deal with that. As always, be good to each other 💯.

🎶♥️✌🏿✌🏻✌🏾✌🏼✌🏽

My best friend LK and **new** Sister are aware…I’ve been having more and more problems with my health, and COVID-19 arrived during a time when I was about to see A LOT of different Doctors of Western medicine🙄, the most important one being a Neurologist. I’m grateful for these two people for sticking it out with me, and I really hope they both KNOW that, for real.

I’ve just started being able to go to Doctors as of last week. Simple (except for picking the glasses I now want) eye Doctor visit. I now have a freckle in one of my eyes. WHO DOES THAT?! I was like a FRECKLE?! WTF?! I didn’t even think to ask WHY this “thing” is even called a freckle!!!!! FML.

THIS…is a REALLY painful week for me. Thursday is the anniversary of the death of my writer (and the whole “I have known him since WAIT FOR IT: Elementary School” thing) friend.

These are the kinds of things I REALLY needed my sister for. She was always good at random advice which also always felt harsh AF but at least she was THERE for me a handful of times when I needed her, at best. And I know she can’t even pretend that’s not the case because she won’t acknowledge me.

And I mourn her. She’s — for all intents and purposes — a family member who removed me SO FAR OUT OF HER LIFE — that I’m experiencing the loss of someone who DIED in my family. I don’t know if she even ever thinks about me.

Like.

At all.

And.

When I mourn one person who was in my life and then I lost because they have died, I tend to mourn all of those people at once. It’s “flooding” for sure.

Again, as I’ve said on my blog many times before, I come here to write my truth, with hopes that someone who might read it can relate and not feel so alone. That’s the endgame with ALL of my writing.

I don’t believe in astrology, but if I did, I would say that as a Gemini, I burn bridges as fast as I make someone feel so special to me it scares me, and I imagine scares them, and typically end up ghosting friends, people who I considered family, AND, actual family.

Thanks again for lying to God, Barbara, (my Godmother), because I spoke my true feelings toward a very aggressive move on your part, even getting your daughter, Laura, involved and since you were in love with my Dad even though you’re RELATED BY BLOOD, so my parents chose you because my Mom is so beyond more amazing than you could have ever been. BELIEVE THAT.

OKAY, tangent.

Thanks for the memories?????

So here’s the crux of this post.

Death. I know two very amazing friends who died way too young. Within two years of each other.

It’s also safe to say that a LOT of TRUTH was dumped on me around this time. CHURCH.

Still.

Here’s what’s up.

Losing my Dad killed me inside. KILLED ME.

In fact, my Dad’s death changed everything so much so quickly in my life that when I say it KILLED ME, I am now “me.” My true self is dead and I’m a reborn version of myself that’s inexplicable.

Like, after his death I didn’t even know what I doing most of the time. And I didn’t care.

Unfortunately, occasionally I still do THE worst things I can think of and have no idea why.

It’s sincerely fucked me up.

I haven’t found myself since.

Fortunately, I am in therapy.

Often.

Only that also fucks me up.

To say that I “spiraled,” is so beyond a truth it can’t even be explained like that.

I miss my Dad every single day.

I miss my friend from my former Church often, but try to suppress that shit when it comes up because HIS death always makes me cry so hard it’s embarrassing.

I think his death is a significant reason I stopped attending Church. That’s how I met him.

His death, didn’t change my religious beliefs in any way. On the other hand…the “priest” at that Church is someone I cannot accept. I don’t know how he sleeps at night.

Anyway.

Next came the “death” of my sister.

Like all of the cards I wrote to her: return her to sender, baby.

Thankfully — I’m incredibly honored and Blessed to announce that someone I love very much accepted my proposal to call her my sister. I liked it so I put a ring on it. 💍💍! (<— JK about the sistergift friendship BFF rings. 🤣🤣. Yet. I mean I’ll probably order them. Y’all know how I roll ✌🏿🤘🏼✌🏾✌🏼✌🏽 🥳🤭🤗😉🙂).

She’s the BEST. I couldn’t be more honored that she is accepting me as a sister. Because I need one.

And!!!!!

Now I have one. Thank you, Sis💞. You’re amazing.

I am, of course, still mourning my prior sister. It’s a loss that should never have to happen to anyone.

Each loss I’ve explained continues to KILL whatever “ME” is hanging around these days.

This mystical new “me” that has possessed me — I can’t even describe to “me.”

Now, as I mentioned, this week is hitting me really hard. I miss my friend. I do think about him every single day. He’s with me when I look in the mirror in my bedroom…two ways.

I still consider myself to be a reflection of him in so many ways…just…not as good. Like he would be my 2.0. I’ve NEVER known a kinder man with his heart filled with pure and unadulterated sincerity.

The other reflection I have is the picture I have of him from his funeral. It’s taped to my mirror. I look him in the eyes every single day. I talk to him — and I don’t give a flying fuck what that means to anyone. Every time I go ANYWHERE with a purpose, I kiss his picture — and I don’t give a flying fuck how that makes anyone feel about that either.

After he died…I spiraled into a whole different upgraded level of spiraling. A threat level midnight of spiral…if you will…in a dangerous way.

To say it fucked me up — Nah. I put myself in different dangerous situations almost EVERY night and I DID NOT CARE.

I stopped eating.

I got “hot” according to all the people I “met.”

But I also got thrown down the stairs by a guy. I don’t know who I used protection with or not. I don’t even remember most of the guys’ names.

TMI Alert: I have been tested several times post that era of “me,” and I’m 100% STI free by whatever fucking miracle.

This is where my “dead” sister comes in. I REALLY needed her for so many reasons during that time.

And she just didn’t care.

I NEEDED her.

Her.

But she removed me from her existence.

So.

I couldn’t ask the one and only person I felt like I should have been able to speak with, lean on, and be supported by for ANYTHING.

All this is to say, mourning death is natural on every level I addressed above.

I could include an infinite amount of other betrayals, things I felt were horrible which caused me to occasionally break down and need someone driving me to lean on friends I’ve never heard from again.

My best friend, LK, (Ha! I JUST realized she has the same initials as my Dad. Wow. Just wow. I need to digest why that even matters to me I think) is such an amazing friend that she even offered to and actually did reach out to my sister on my behalf. I never heard about the reply so one day I asked — and my friend revealed my sister essentially just sent her links for how I could/should get help from certain resources — like she probably does with the high schoolers she counsels.

Honest to God or whatever, I am so embarrassed that she reacted to LK in that way, and, of course, it was evident that she STILL didn’t “get it.”

The sister I’ve mourned — is the outcast. She’s THE person — among many other people in my life — for whatever reason — I’ve dropped/ghosted because I felt they did the worst thing to me a person could do — they didn’t show up for me.

But the difference between these four people I’ve been discussing is no matter how I “access” them or talk to them or pray to them, there’s one of four that will never make sense to me.

And, maybe in a different post, I can reveal some tough truths about how that above statement is ironic and even maybe hypocritical.

But for now, this is about the outcast.

Because she’s still alive.

For me?

It’s IMPOSSIBLE to get over that fact.

Impossible.

And considering all of the things I’ve done for that chick — she SHOULD show up.

There is no excuse that could justify her behavior toward me.

Not. One.

So, goals.

I need to get over it.

There’s no reason to spend time giving a second of my life to someone who treats me that way.

I’ve learned that.

Kind of.

Therapy confuses me on that.

And now that I am participating in a fringe sort of therapy (DBT), I’m as confused as ever.

In the end, I’m not over any of the above. But I’m trying.

And, as I’ve said before, I truly believe that at the end of the day everyone is just trying to do the best they can.

Except my sister.

She’s not doing her best.

She’s failing.

Hard.

And that’s okay.

Because apparently that’s what she needs and believes is what is best for her.

I will ALWAYS love her so much and respect her choices. Even if I do get hurt by them.

I’ve been missing her presence for a good minute. In many ways — she’s never been available emotionally for me.

But that’s not going to stop me from hoping one day she becomes a zombie and I’ll see her in whatever form then.

So, our status right now?

I’d call it “hypothetical.”

Um, so yeah. That’s kind of my update on my life as I cry this week.

As for my medical problems…if I don’t get to a Neurologist ASAP, I do not know what will happen.

I cannot drive because I’m now narcoleptic, and it’s really scary, and the first time it happened was while I was driving. I thought, “maybe I am just over exhausted.” Then it happened again. So I don’t can’t drive (and I DO miss driving my amazing car and experiencing her free spirit).

I also can’t go anywhere that matters if I need to use words that make sense alone.

My cognition is essentially jumbly and totally fucked.

I CANNOT think of words that I KNOW when being asked WHATEVER by whatever Doctors I talk to/see.

I quite literally need an interpreter who is understanding about that avalanche of a problem. My poor Mom has to find/think of/remember words for me.

Imagine a game of Scategories, except it’s real life and you’re being examined by someone who doesn’t understand why you need your Mommy with you — with the added pressure of COVID-19 regulations.

Uggghhhhh just. Everything.

As always, be good to each other.

🎶♥️✌🏿✌🏼✌🏾✌🏽✌🏼

4 thoughts on “I Feel Okay In The Daytime. But At Nighttime. You Know How I Get. When I’m Alone.

  1. Sounds like lots of tragedies and tough times my friend. I sincerely hope and pray that your therapies and medicines work. More important than that I feel is to teach your mind to remember only the happy moments of the past.

    Forget and forgive your sister and celebrate your new found sister and friends.

    All the best

    Like

  2. I could relate to the part with talking to doctors, one time the doctor even asked my mother to leave the room and I couldn’t really speak about my problem.

    And about the other things, I hope the best for you.
    Another reflection of “me”.
    Life really messed with our minds and hearts.

    Survivors. 💜

    Liked by 1 person

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