My feet brought me back to a family that is mine but not mine. There were no tears left to cry, I was over the hurdle and stumbling on the other side, not quite able to find my footing. Still not able to find my footing even now.
Aunty Cousin (who shall from now on be called Aunty Godmother, because she’s my godmother as well as my relative) tried her best to talk about it, to counter everything I said with a positive spin. And I couldn’t tell her what we’d discussed. I couldn’t share it. I held onto it, and I felt ridiculous as she tried to cling to positivity and provide reassurance when it had been made clear to me how the future is going to be. And it is a future I still don’t want to meet, a future I am not ready to live… And yet there is no way but through it.
I tangled myself up in the task of trying to say what we’d talked about without actually saying it, but I didn’t get anywhere close, so instead I just told her about seeing a new specialist. Who was I to share the hopelessness that has engulfed me? I sat before her, dead inside, and let her try. And I appreciated the fact that someone was willing to try. And then she just put her hand on me and gave a gentle squeeze, and that was it – no words, just the knowledge that there was somebody there who cared.
I had messaged my fellow third wheel on the train in the end, after going through my contact list over and over. I didn’t tell him anything, but at the mention of the word appointment he knew, and when I said I should stop bothering him he told me that I did far too much on my own and he was actually glad that I’d gone to him. He was too busy to talk and I couldn’t words, but I wanted someone who would t react emotionally. I didn’t want sympathy and I didn’t want someone to meltdown with me. I didn’t want to feel any guilt. And I didn’t want to talk about it because I just couldn’t. My world was over. That is what is waiting for me – an emotional apocalypse.
There is nobody I trust who I have the ability to talk to right now, and therefore nobody I can share that stuff with. And as Aunty Godmother said, it is difficult to know what to say. People don’t have the scientific knowledge to understand what I’m talking about.
All I know is that I’m numb and desperate and unable to cope right now. I stayed up late last night thinking my way through long and slow conversations with myself about what came next, about whether or not I ended it all. Over and over my mind jumped the gun and lurched towards the idea of taking away my own existence as if it was the only way to cope. But I fired the starting gun twice again to disqualify that front runner, and I tried to line up my thoughts again without it. Even then it felt like the only way to deal with the situation. The only way to cope. And yet each time the rest of me said – No! We feel like we need to do this, like we want to do this, but we aren’t going to act on it. So it can shout away and win the race and overwhelm all thoughts because it is no longer an urge but just a thought, and thoughts are not actions. You’re safe. So get a grip and let it stay and it will get bored and leave you. But you must remain.
And all I could think about as I told myself this was swimming. Running. I’d walked all the way home just thinking of those things, not looking before I crossed roads, too numb to care or feel. I just tried to give off the impression that I was ok and holding things together, which was easy because there was nothing left to spill and smiles are easier to wear than they are to mean.
After dinner, my 14 year old cousin decided she wanted to go for a walk. I said I’d go with her, and Aunty Godmother asked if we would take the dog with us. So we left with the dog and I went to a shop and bought comfort food, and then we walked for an hour and a half. Very slowly. My cousin kept checking I was alright. But we had a very long chat. She needed to talk to someone about teenage stuff going on with her friends that she couldn’t approach her mum about. She told me that she felt like I am the only person she can talk to at the moment. So I let her get it all out. And she felt better. And I felt temporarily a little better, because I felt good for something and needed. I told her that when I’m not here she can call me any time. She liked that idea.
She asked me about my hospital appointment and yet again I swerved our conversation around the subject. But I appreciated her concern. I also loved the way I caught her on the phone this morning telling her friend about “my cousin who is… (To me) are you 19 or 20? (To her friend)… She’s 20.”
And then we started talking about me staying with them, and she told me what Aunty godmother had said to other family that they saw while I was in London the other day, and I knew I belonged right then. They weren’t bothered by me being here, she’d said she couldn’t find a bad word to say about me. She had told them that I was more relaxed than I had been in a long time and she was just happy about that. And it went on. And suddenly I felt like I fitted in a family for the first time in my lifetime that I can remember. I felt accepted and even Uncle(Aunty Godmother’s husband) wants to support me. And I talked about how weird I found it that he talked to me, that I actually got along with someone who called themself a dad, and how I was amazed neither of her parents had shouted at me… And then she was just happy too.
My cousin pointed out that we shared blood. And I kind of liked that. I’m not just burdening a family, because they are my relatives, I’ve grown up with them, their relatives (on Aunty Godmother’s side) are my relatives.
And that was comforting to know, but none of it filled the hole within me. I belonged, but there was nothing left of me to belong. There was a hopeless despair in the background of everything, a dampening of every other emotion, and when I went to bed it was no longer in the background. I crumbled over and over again as I remembered what had been said. Each time I woke up in the night it drifted to the front of my mind and I felt like I should cry but I couldn’t. I was too empty to cry.
And now I feel too empty to anything.
There is a way through, and there will be a way through, because there is no other option and no other way. It just doesn’t feel like it right now.
I may or may not blog for a while. I need to let stuff out but I don’t know how to, and here doesn’t feel like the right place. I want to talk face to face with a human. I want to feel less alone in this. But there is nobody. And I do not have the motivation to blog. On the other hand, sometimes this is all I have. Sometimes this is my only outlet and right now anything is better than nothing. So who knows what my brain will want. Right now I feel too dead inside to blog for a while. I don’t want to do anything. It’s just all gone.
Because I know everything I am is about to be broken again.
I can’t face the future. I can’t do this.
But somehow I will suck it up and find a way. And I hate that I keep saying stuff like this, because it hints at an optimism that isn’t there. Realistically the future is going to suck. In ways nobody can imagine. And I say these things because part of me knows them, but right now none of me feels them. None of me feels like I will find a way.
There is “no way but through” and “no way” all at the same time.
And I really don’t want to go through this again. But life doesn’t go by what we want and what we don’t. It just happens. I hate myself because it could be worse. And I hate myself for even writing that sentence because for me this feels like the end of the world, the destruction of my future, and I need to stop belittling myself for feeling that.
For now, I have to go. Because I am already gone.