Love and Grief

Often there are moments just after my mind wakes but my body hasn’t fully begun to function that I lay in bed and ponder such things as why am I here and why am I the way I am.  These few moments in the morning give me a time to be introspective and contemplate the world around me.  I also take these few moments and think on more spiritual thoughts as well.  Sometimes these thoughts make me happy; more often than not these thoughts make me sad and emotional.

As I consider recent events in my life I have to ask myself why people gravitate toward one another.  What is the meaning of love and why do we look for it in every corner and every person?  Recently I’ve been re-examining the idea of love and relationships and what I need from another person.  It seems that no matter what happens, every relationship is going to end and hurt at some point.  Why do we continue to do this to ourselves?  Why do we inflict so much pain on each other?  Are we all serial masochists and don’t realize it?

Every relationship will eventually end.  That’s what my therapist taught me.  As harsh as it is, those were his exact words.  I was shocked and stunned by his frankness on the subject.  How can he say these things to me when I’m grieving the loss of so many people and relationships?  I had to stop and consider this theory, and as analytical as I am, I realize he’s right.  Every relationship we have with someone will end.  Whether it is by death of one person or because one person no longer wanted to be in the relationship, it will end.

It saddens me to realize how true these words are, especially for me.  Sometimes I think the loss that I’ve experienced is insurmountable and I cannot function.  I wonder how it is that I go on living my life day to day with this terrible feeling.  The grief that I carry around with me engulfs me on a daily basis.  It’s become my shelter, my shield, and my protector.  It keeps me from forming long-lasting bonds with people, and when I do push aside grief to let someone into my life, I end up ruining it in some way.  I don’t realize this is what I am doing until it is too late and the damage is done.  It just happens.

This morning grief and I had a conversation.  He reminded me that I am alone and that he will always be with me to share in my troubles and help me find the dark places in my soul.  I took comfort in knowing that grief will not leave me as he will continue to be there for me to help me detach when I attempt to let another person love me.  He will be there like a black knight to protect me from further injury to my soul and remind me that this relationship will destroy itself like all others and not to get attached.

I finally got out of bed and made my way into the kitchen.  I need that morning pleasure of coffee to comfort my soul.  I stand in the kitchen and water Shyla, my eastern lily that was given to me when my dog Shyla passed.  She’s been growing so big lately that I had to repot her into a bigger pot.  I take a few moments to think back to a happier time when I felt like I could move forward; a time I wasn’t so paralyzed.  I let the moment pass in fear the sadness will be overwhelming.  I curl up in bed with my morning yumminess and I grab for my pills, these pills that keep my heart rhythm from becoming out of whack, and I realize I’m missing one.  How long has it been since I’ve had my anti-depressant? 

As I sit in the dark sipping my coffee that is quickly turning cold, I think about why it is I take the anti-depressant.  Am I fooled as much as every other American in the belief that I can take a magic pill and it will suddenly make me happy again?  Maybe I should just stop taking it and let the depression engulf me.  It is after all where I find I am most comfortable.  My depression has a way of keeping people at arm’s length and maybe that is for the better.  It keeps me isolated and anti-social so that I don’t have to talk to people, nor do I want to talk to others.

My coffee is cold.  The air is cold.  My room is dark.  The world is silent.  My bed is comfortable.  I’ll just stay here today and let the world go on without me.

Being Alone

The other day my childhood friend’s mom passed away suddenly.  She’s 1,000 miles away and I cannot be there for her.  She’s grieving and going through this very difficult time and all I want to do is to take her pain away.  But who’s going to take my pain away?

I know what grieving is like.  I’ve lost so many friends and family members in recent years I feel isolated even though I am surrounded by friends.  Recently I’ve lost a co-worker, Gerry, due to the flu virus and in November I lost one of my closest friends, Mickey.

Mickey was special to me.  He was older and would always tease me about my younger age, or really anything he could find to tease me about.  I loved him and I would do anything for him.

One day in November I took him to the VA to get a routine colonoscopy.  While waiting we sat and talked about our plans for the holidays.  This year we were going to spend them together.  For Thanksgiving he was going to cook a roast and Christmas he was going to make his homemade Italian gravy (red sauce).  I don’t have close family and I was looking forward to spending the holidays with him.

The procedure went well and we had dinner after.  I teased him about eating “old people’s dinner” at TooJay’s because we were eating at 4pm with the rest of the older people that liked to eat early.  A few days later when I hadn’t heard from him I went to his apartment.  All the doors were locked from the inside.  I knew there was trouble.  I called the police who called the fire department to open the door.  The firefighter broke the chain on the backdoor and the police officer entered.  I tried to follow but I was pushed back – hard – and told to go around front.  The officer came back out and looked at me.  No words needed to be said, I knew what happened.  Mickey was dead.

I broke down into hysterics.  I am so grateful for Christine and Shirley being there with me and tried their best to comfort me but none was to be had.  My friend was gone.  He died alone in bed of natural causes.  Mickey always took care of me so now was the time for me to take care of him.  He had no family and always made sure that myself and our good friend Brian were aware of his wishes.  It was a long night but I eventually got his body removed and taken to the funeral home.  Seeing him in a body bag was devastating to say the least.

It’s been a long road trying to deal with the grief of losing him.  Brian and I emptied his apartment of all his belongings and he’s handling the financials along with the estate.  I made it through the holidays but barely.

I am alone.  Sure, like I mentioned I have friends, a mother, two sisters and a grandfather, but I am alone.  Why?  My mother and sister have borderline personality disorder that makes it difficult to keep them in my life.  I choose to communicate with them as little as possible to protect myself.  It’s gotten to the point that when I speak to my mother on the off occasion I don’t have any familial feelings for her that a daughter should have for her mother.  My full sister lives with my mother and we just do not talk to one another.  It’s better that way because she cycles much worse than I do and gets angry at the drop of a hat.

For my friends, it’s challenging for them to understand the cycles of a person that suffers from bipolar disorder so to protect them I keep them at arms distance.  My half-sister lives in Missouri and has a family of her own.  I know she would be there for me whenever I need to talk but I don’t ever want to be a burden.  Not for her or my friends.  So I choose to isolate myself because it’s easier.

For as much as I isolate myself intentionally, I crave for someone to push through the walls that I put up around myself and make me feel worthy of love and affection.  I’m waiting for that one person that will see me for the person that I am, not be afraid and still want to form an intimate, loving relationship.  Instead, I find myself emotionally isolated, lonely and depressed often because I cannot form intimate relationships with people.

This isolation makes me an introvert and experience strong social anxiety.  So my life is essentially a catch-22.  I don’t want to feel as though I’m not supported by others, but the anxiety makes it harder to meet others, be social and develop friendships.  It’s a challenge that has no right answers because I have a social phobia, but I know the only way to cure this phobia is by finding social support from other people.  It makes me spiral into a deep depression sometimes and makes me feel even more lonely.  It also makes me the shy and anxious person that I am.

To deal with this anxiety, I pull away from others and be alone so that I can reduce stress.  When I do go out to spend time with others, I don’t enjoy myself because I fear social situations and the anxiety that can arise from it.  This anxiety creates negative and “black and white” thinking.  I internalize everything to the point that negative thoughts run wild in my head.

The problem with this thought process is that being alone is exactly the opposite of what I need.  There is no cure for social anxiety but distractions help.  Distractions help me to stop overthinking and attempt to live my life.  This is something I cannot do when I’m alone with my own thoughts.  I am trying as hard as I can to overcome the fear of being social.  I’m pushing myself to get out and join the community even if it causes me to shake in fear.  If you see me out somewhere, don’t hesitate to say hi to me.  I may not start the conversation and I may look like I don’t want to talk, but I will promise you that I crave for someone to say hi and talk to me.  Don’t let me run away.