sae
12-28-2015, 03:15 PM
It's that time of year again. It hits around this time: the dreams/nightmares, the insomnia, panic, obsessive habits, and general flip flopping amongst depression, guilt, nostalgia, physical pain and drinking.
The pisser about self awareness in this state is that my thoughts diverge into two separate states, the emotional that wants to indulge in all the shifts and swings just to push them through and the logical that just sits back grumbling about what a moron I am for allowing it to happen... again.
I had the first dream of the season last night. He was sitting in his favorite patio chair bare save that horrible pair of corduroy shorts, nursing a crown and coke and fighting with a stubborn rolling paper. He finally gives up then turns to me, asking to hold my hand. His touch is searing cold, painful, and his blurry face makes me feel like vomiting. I hate him. I continue to hold his hand because the guilt is too much to bear.
"Do you remember the last thing you ever said to me?"
December 20th, 2011. He was in a psych hospital claiming schizophrenic delusions to avoid going back to prison. I knew his game. I told him loved him but I hated the sight of him. His hands were bandaged, leaking, blistered beyond recognition from huffing freon. I was angry.
"You infuriated me much more." He responded then I woke.
Those were terrible years, learning years, years that make me love feeling bored and sedentary. As long as I forget I can move forward, but from the anniversary of those terrible words to his death in March I can't let go. Every year it catches me off guard simply because I am just fine the rest of the year. I think "maybe this is the year i put the while thing away for good" but it always comes back.
Nothing seems to help. Counselling never seems to adequately prepare me for the shit storm of raw feelings, sleepless nights, and broken memories. I am haunted, and it follows me like a deadly shadow. It's been 4 years since I last saw him alive.
It worries me because it brings on "those thoughts" that I would never in good faith act upon. My heart seems to know death will be the only way to escape his memory, but I am too cowardly, too stubborn, too determined to do anything but live on.
There is no magic undo button, no memory dump save the bottle. Luckily for me I am far too poor to be an alcoholic so I just cope, poorly, until March is over.
Perhaps I am just kissing some key step in getting over the whole thing for good, maybe it never actually goes away, at least not as long as the dreams persist.
The pisser about self awareness in this state is that my thoughts diverge into two separate states, the emotional that wants to indulge in all the shifts and swings just to push them through and the logical that just sits back grumbling about what a moron I am for allowing it to happen... again.
I had the first dream of the season last night. He was sitting in his favorite patio chair bare save that horrible pair of corduroy shorts, nursing a crown and coke and fighting with a stubborn rolling paper. He finally gives up then turns to me, asking to hold my hand. His touch is searing cold, painful, and his blurry face makes me feel like vomiting. I hate him. I continue to hold his hand because the guilt is too much to bear.
"Do you remember the last thing you ever said to me?"
December 20th, 2011. He was in a psych hospital claiming schizophrenic delusions to avoid going back to prison. I knew his game. I told him loved him but I hated the sight of him. His hands were bandaged, leaking, blistered beyond recognition from huffing freon. I was angry.
"You infuriated me much more." He responded then I woke.
Those were terrible years, learning years, years that make me love feeling bored and sedentary. As long as I forget I can move forward, but from the anniversary of those terrible words to his death in March I can't let go. Every year it catches me off guard simply because I am just fine the rest of the year. I think "maybe this is the year i put the while thing away for good" but it always comes back.
Nothing seems to help. Counselling never seems to adequately prepare me for the shit storm of raw feelings, sleepless nights, and broken memories. I am haunted, and it follows me like a deadly shadow. It's been 4 years since I last saw him alive.
It worries me because it brings on "those thoughts" that I would never in good faith act upon. My heart seems to know death will be the only way to escape his memory, but I am too cowardly, too stubborn, too determined to do anything but live on.
There is no magic undo button, no memory dump save the bottle. Luckily for me I am far too poor to be an alcoholic so I just cope, poorly, until March is over.
Perhaps I am just kissing some key step in getting over the whole thing for good, maybe it never actually goes away, at least not as long as the dreams persist.