“Oh be aware the of Idles of March. . . (two days.)” <– I laugh at you.
The last six months have been crazy. . .
I know the weak would have not survived . . . .or at least locked themselves away for a lot less. . .
I have at least a dozen people that I have been there in my head that have kept me going in their own way. (Whether they were happy, worried or mad at me.)
I am very thankful for whatever they did. . . made me laugh, took me to a doctor, texted me, or just gave me a hug. . . even the smallest thing meant something to me.
I have no idea how I am going to return my appreciation to these people. . . they know who they are.
Okay. . . now to get to the drama. . .
It started in October-November when I just got overwhelmed. I got pushed with a baby, (not mine). . . it is an anxiety for me: I’m afraid of dropping an infant. I can handle a toddler a small for amount of time, until it starts crying and screaming, and then I want to go in a corner and cover my ears. It has to do with the fact that I was burnt out with kids at very early age. . . they pushed nursery, day care, early childhood education. . . I went to school to deal with kids, I came home to deal with kids, and I even dealt with kids at church. I had almost forgot what being an adult was like.
In November, I had nervous break down. I was told to find a therapist or lock myself away. I found a therapist and diagnosed with depression and anxiety. (The worst part is that my brain will not stop. . . I am constantly thinking about something. . . worrying, hoping, fearing etc. I feel trapped and suck in my own thoughts. I just want it stop for a while. )
I also felt I was being pushed away for Thanksgiving. . . I felt because I had my fit. . . like they watched what they did and said with me.
In December, I pissed off my father’s side of the family which is not what I meant to do, but I felt I NEEDED to help Tom. He had been through hell and back. . . I knew his last girlfriend wasn’t supportive, which was what I wanted out of Karma. (So be careful what you ask of Karma. . . it just might happen that way. It was not what I wanted. . . or at least didn’t feel as satisfying as I wanted it to be.)
However I was NOT looking to get back with Tom; in reality I just knew he needed help. To be honest, my heart was shattered and he had the hammer, so to speak. I called him dear out of habit; we had been together 8 years, and I am still working things out.
I would have communicated with my family if they didn’t make me feel like I just dealt with an AIDs victim and I was going to affect them. (I’m sorry I pissed them off, but they taught me if someone was in need to help them. I was supposed to help others. I had just wanted them to be proud at the fact that I was helping someone who needed it. . . I felt I was being the bigger person.)
I did a really good job. . . it wasn’t easy. I had to deal with cranky relatives, frustrated nurses, teams of doctors, and aides: everyone who wanted to do different things; I had to think to what was best for Tom. His medicine schedule was crazy: 6am, 9am, 1pm, 3pm, 6pm and 9pm . . . my birthday I was alone, Christmas and New Years I stayed in a hospital . . . that is the loneliness, most depressing place one could be during the holidays.
I felt horrible, because Tom asked me if he was going to get out of the hospital. . . I didn’t know what to really say . . . .so I told him to focus on one day at a time and use the main goal was get back home. I would have done more if I knew it would have never happened.
(What made me feel horrible was the bitter and threatening texts from people while I was nervously waiting during Tom’s unexpected surgery.)
In January, Tom was diagnosed with cancer that they believe started in the liver and had spread within days. He was off the vents, he was joking with his mother and I. . . then just two days later . . . he was just gone. Dealing with death has always been a roller-coaster for me. . . sometimes I am calm, cool while everyone else is sobbing, and then out of the blue I will hear a song or eat something and start crying because I think of him. (all I have to say is that eight years is a long time. He had just less than one-fourth of my life so far.)
January to now I have good friends who have supported me whether it be under their roof, or told a joke, or a hug. . . so I feel like I owe them so much. They have been there even with my depression and my anxiety. Now I feel like I am getting pass around. . . I have lost a piece of myself with Tom’s death. I also feel like an adventure, but my depression, anxiety, and worry still haunt my thoughts. . . (please calm down and let me sleep.)