General Updates

In looking back, I just noticed that I never posted again about Ian's mother.

She died. Jyl died too, by suicide, and my darling friend Aby died as well, by accidental overdose, in a relapse.

It was a hard year.


I know I've tried to write about my almost-mother-in-law's death several times, but I guess it must have just been too hard. I don't remember what I wrote or why I didn't post it. I have probably attempted to address Jyl's and Aby's as well, but I guess those words never made it through.


By some miracle--by a whole bunch of miracles really, and with a lot of help--we did manage to get married. In large part the wedding was beautiful, but looking back I have a lot of negative feelings surrounding the planning and the day that I don't want to try to dissect right now.

I have an office job, which I both like and hate. Mostly I enjoy my coworkers, and obviously the stability of a regular paycheck. But I feel trapped. I never see the sun. The sameness of my environment and my work, day after day after day, is rotting me away inside. I am starting to feel old, and empty, and (at the very high risk of being nauseously over-melo-dramatic) lately this has been leading me to ponder my own mortality in a very dark way. I am sure the awareness of one's own mortality is normal, and maybe early thirties is when it usually hits--but I am really not liking it. I was hoping to get away from the total surety that the rest of my life was going to be nothing but a long unsteady irrefutable slide down into a dark tunnel. Lately, mostly, each day has felt either the same as or worse than the last and the horizon looks dark and dangerous. I feel like I've made all the wrong decisions and now I just have to learn to live with them until I die. But maybe it will get better, right? People say it sometimes gets better.

Indecision

You know, I hate that I'm such an indecisive person, but if I weren't I probably would have killed myself a long time ago.

So I got that going for me, which is nice. I guess.

That being said, if I weren't so indecisive, I might not be so anxious and depressed all the time. It's hard to say which stems from which.



I'm sitting here in my parents' bathroom, because I stopped in here before leaving their house and I can't stop crying long enough to leave, and my parents are both on edge now and it just reinforces my belief that I have to control my emotions or else they'll fuck other people up. Which might be true, but it isn't healthy.

I was supposed to have a nice afternoon of socializing but I can't even get to my goddamn car.

Oh, that

God, I am way more of a suicide risk than anyone realizes. Most (?) of the time I'm fine, but it takes about three seconds for me to go from functional to about-to-throw-in-the-towel. And it happens a lot. Maybe most days. Maybe a couple of times a week. I don't know.

That sounds so extreme. I'm not saying that I've got elaborate plans or anything, letters composed, anything like that. I just wish dying didn't feel like such a good idea. Like a fantasy vacation I don't ever have to come home from.

Well.

From Momma Bear's (Chris's mom's) status message tonight:

Well it looks like Chris's suicide may indeed have been an accident. You can definitely tell he slipped and fell, there is no denying that. I do not believe the Chris we all knew and loved would think or believe he did it on purpose. Unfortunately when you play dangerous games (like Russian Roulette) you sometimes lose. Chris thought Lacey [his ex-girlfriend, probably the main person responsible for the state he was in in the first place] was on her way over. But because he had been drinking he was not thinking.

Chris's death

Even after all this crying, calling, planning, and aching, every one more minute I live is just one more confirmation like a kick in the gut that it's true, that this isn't a dream, that I'm not going to wake up and find him still alive, smiling and laughing like always. I want to vomit. I want to vomit. I want to vomit.

Obviously I was never an advocate for suicide, but as someone who's considered it in the past, I've always sort of defended the idea, a little bit. I can understand the constant rollercoaster of emotion, dipping down further, longer, steeper than it climbs up. I can understand the feeling that life just isn't worth it. I can understand feeling as though you're less than nothing--feeling like a negative space, a waste of resources, a drain on everyone around you.

But when Chris killed himself yesterday, it wasn't about that, at least as far as I know. All I know is that our hearts are smashed and running all over the floor.


What about your life, Chris? What about your little brothers? What about your mom and dad? What about us? What are we supposed to do now? I keep hoping it's some kind of sick joke. I keep waiting to wake up, or for someone to tell me it didn't really happen. I just can't believe that it's true. How can it be true?