(Cross that line–superchick)
And it hurts every time.
But don’t worry, I’m not grieving. The crying and turmoil mean nothing. I know, because Someone told me so those years ago. Via email.
Today I am strong. Today I am throwing away that lie I was fed those years ago. That lie that I learned to believe. Just because someone wasn’t my inseparable best friend for eternity doesn’t mean it is not valid for me to have feelings about it. I am allowed to have feelings, and no one can take that away.
I cried today when a guy in the video I was watching died. I don’t know the guy, and I know it isn’t real…besides the fact that the medical part of the scene didn’t really make a lot of sense. Obviously because it is a video I recovered quickly, but real people are different. Real people leave a real hole where ending the season doesn’t truly end the season. If I can become upset over a fictional character, then you better believe it is real that I grieve all the real people who die. A lot of people die. Finding out on facebook isn’t really the best way to find out.
Maybe my grief doesn’t look identical to someone else’s. Maybe going from crying to pretending I don’t care or don’t notice is my mechanism of coping, but different isn’t wrong. Different is just that. Different. I don’t have to dye my hair to prove I’m grieving. I don’t have to look for shortcuts in school to prove I’m grieving. I am me, and I do things my way, and that is not wrong.
Last night I was up late because right after I went to bed I started re-experiencing. Not death, but other things. Sometimes when I re-experience it is one particular event, other times it is a montage of little pieces of lots of events. This time it was the latter. I could have gotten up and found a distraction, but I wanted to be strong. If I run, I am only running from myself and I have to bring myself with me. The thoughts will only come back later. So I stayed. I thought if I could just stay eventually I’d be so exhausted that I’d crash. And I did. I was up at 1am because I am kind of like an infant in that I don’t always make it through the night without my (water) bottle, but I made it. I am strong. As it started I felt frustrated that I was “giving in” again, but I am strong, and I didn’t choose to re-experience.
In the morning I got the news via a school friend’s status. Totally innocent. Just praising someone—probably her roommates or something. Then the last line. It clicked. She was gone. Googling the name and the word obituary confirmed the news. Gone. Reading the comment page. Gone. It probably wouldn’t have bothered me so much, but lack of sleep, and vulnerable sleep at that, plays with and intensifies anyone’s emotion. I was never going to see her again anyway. I hadn’t seen her since like first year. But everyone matters to me. The people I like the least still matter to me. As twisted as it sounds, I still want the best even for the people who have hurt me. But lets be honest. I wouldn’t have been as upset if 1) I’d had a better night, and 2) the news had come via email rather than facebook.
(I promise I’m okay and safe right now. The timing wasn’t ideal–can there ever be an ideal time for death/finding out about death? and the mechanism of news delivery was not ideal, but unless the death is my own it will take more than death to take this girl out. Besides, I have learned to cope with way bigger things than this, and writing gives me a voice to express myself and process my thoughts. If I couldn’t write I might not be okay, but I can, so I am. Lol (not literally), for all those well-meaning people who suggested maybe I should go back to journaling instead of blogging, this is why I can’t. Besides that my journals were never truly private anyway, a journal provides processing without a voice, whereas my blog lets me have at least a teeny tiny voice. Living in silence is the worst. That’s why criminals get threatened with solitary confinement. People were made for connection and community. The potential for audience whether I want the audience or not makes blogging different…perhaps less safe, but certainly more empowering).
I don’t really want to go back to school, but no one asked what I wanted…and besides, I do want to graduate, which requires going back.