The Aftermath, and on suicidal states

I cannot decide whether I am still in shock or whether this feeling is part of the grieving process. I am at work, writing an article on osteoporosis, and I feel dead to the world. Blank. A cold nothingness, emotions absent except for a pang of scurrying sadness aching to escape, like a wounded soldier, from a chaotic battlefield. Here we are, today. Moving on.

Life gives no choice. We never stop moving, even when in deep sleep. Our hearts pound on, and on. Our breath rises and falls. We twitch, we snore, we slumber. Then the day calls and we slurp down coffee, gather our things and rush to work, greeting coworkers with our masks firmly in place. We do what’s expected. We smile pleasantly. We sit down and pretend to work diligently. Inside, we tremble from the mass of relegated emotions and thoughts that rise rise rise; the flood warning is at orange, the dams will break

work is another form of escapism

I followed shoe1000’s advice and reached out to people I felt comfortable with sharing the terrible revelation I discussed briefly in “five.” I also want to thank Fanatic for encouraging me to reach out as well. I called up one of my not-so-close friends, thinking he’d know of a party or event going on that could distract me from my pain, but when I spoke to him, I realized that I didn’t need to escape—I needed someone to listen. Unable to tell him what was upsetting me, I hung up and instantly was overwhelmed by terror. The terror was complete, brutal, savage. I do not know if I have ever experienced anything like it. After some time, my body and mind couldn’t take it anymore and responded by dissociating. I knew it was a natural response, but I also knew that it was too dangerous to be this dissociated and be alone. I drove to his house (which also happens to be my soon to be ex-boyfriend’s house, but we’ll talk about that later) in the pouring rain. As I drove, I thought – tonight, these storms; I need a lifeboat. I understood what kind of mental state people have to be in to commit suicide. People don’t commit suicide when they are in unbearable emotional pain. They commit suicide when a cold clarity replaces the pain, and the mind, disconnected from the body and parts of itself, does not fear pain.

(if you have attempted suicide or knows someone who did and was not in this state, please let me know. we seek knowledge; we seek to understand)

My friend I sought was gone. I collapsed into my boyfriend’s arms, even though earlier that day I had sworn to break up with him because of emotional abuse, and began to cry. On the couch, next to him, I my soul cried. I say this because it came from such a deep, true sorrow that it was not just my heart that hurt. Everything in me gasped and screamed.

My boyfriend, as per usual, began to emotionally disconnect. He told me he felt repelled by me. I begged him to comfort me, to be human, but it wasn’t until his best friend—who I consider one of my best friends—came down and took control of the situation.

I cannot thank him enough. He got me through.

He got my boyfriend to realize the destructiveness of his behaviors. They listened to me. They heard me.

After decades of silence, I was heard.

Then night went on, and now I am here, struggling to keep on my mask.

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7 thoughts on “The Aftermath, and on suicidal states

  1. I have some understanding of the things you are saying. I hope you’ll continue to keep yourself around people who care about and support you. I am glad you are reaching out to friends and through your blog. Sending care, M.

  2. Well, I don’t like this per se, but you know what I mean. I’m walking away from the devil’s call, slowly, but there it arises out of no where, while assembling IKEA furniture, the cold clarity, the potential for release from this life. Ha ha, IKEA.

  3. I totally understand what you are saying about that brokenness where your soul even cries out. I have cried that wailing cry that comes from the depths of your being and you don’t even recognize it as your own. I know that it is hard. I have been there. Know that many care about you. God got me through mine when I felt that I was so disconnected to the world and was in a million pieces. I will be praying for you…

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