Some days wounds are opened that I cannot seem to bear but my mind keeps pushing forward because what else would I do? For decades my mind has been a driving force no matter what to not quit even when I wake up to another failed attempt at suicide. I always had it but a drill sergeant I had told me one time to “never quit on him again.” So I haven’t at least not entirely.
And sometimes I see an old friend who is my Dad’s age, a Vietnam Vet whom I know for a fact would put himself between me and harm no questions asked. But when I see him the floodgates open and it all comes pouring out because he’s been through some of it and has NEVER judged me for anything I’ve said to him including suicidal hate. He would try to talk me down but he never, ever judged me or turned his back on me.
He knows I need to get it out and for me sometimes that’s enough to keep trying to let it go and other days it reminds me of one thing. How many times I have cheated death in my lifetime while others who were mentally stronger than me and living a more positive life had their lives taken from them. It brings up an unbearable guilt the likes of which I find hard to put into words despite my being able to talk about my illness freely often at the detriment of friendships that had barely even gotten started.
If there ever was a purpose for me to be still kicking past an age when doctors were sure I would likely never see. In my twenties given my mental issues and pressing other medical issues they didn’t think I would live past age 40. I can hold my head up at times and say “I am turning 49 this year.” But that brings up my baby face that makes me look 18 to 20 years younger than I am and thus doesn’t bring with it the respect for having lived this long even among some VA employees I know. I know I don’t socialize well but after years of taking abuse because of the way I look or act, I have earned that right, of that I am quite certain.
To turn 50 soon and not look my age is not all it’s cracked up to be no matter who you are trust me. I want to be treated with some respect and knowledge that I have lived through a pain that has killed lesser beings either by their own hand or at the hand of someone who thought less of them simply because they didn’t act “normal.” What I wouldn’t give to have just one day of my life seem normal but I guess that’s just the way it’s going to be. But when people see you as a quiet, good listener you can get issues dumped on you that you may not be prepared for.
And in my case I often can’t let go of their pain as my sensitivities take all that on and cause me to act erratically making painful, costly mistakes. In social situations, in financial situations, relationships practically everything. I mean what would you do at 46 and for the first time you are having to be completely dependent on yourself without a parent/spouse telling you what you can or cannot do. That’s how messed up I was, I often was unable to decide for myself for example, when I bought my second house in my lifetime I had to fix/replace appliances and furniture on my own. I didn’t know how to do that.
I didn’t know how to always make sound judgments not jump in headfirst spending money I likely shouldn’t have on items I really didn’t need but had always wanted. And that includes a motorcycle that didn’t fit me and the dealership really wasn’t looking out for me but I lived and learned on that one.
Yesterday however I was reminded that I need to do my will and it has churned up a firestorm inside of me because despite my fight to keep going, I am inching closer to my mortal ends one day. I have paid for my funeral but have stayed steadfast on my not wanting to make a will to ensure that people take care of my personal affects the way I want it done. It’s hard enough thinking that the day when the preacher stands at my gravesite at Fort Custer National Cemetery
under the tent talking over my ashes (Lamentations) he will likely be alone except for the honor guard.
I will either outlive the remainder of my friends or I will have alienated them so much that they don’t show up. I will likely go out exactly as I had predicted decades before I will die alone and be buried alone. I can’t keep family around me who were making me feel like a lesser being for whatever reason because that is too hard to deal with anymore.
So here I sit wide awake early Sunday morning tearing up yet again because the grief, the pain of losses and the inevitable demise alone is tearing at my soul once more.
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