I had been asking to call home for days.
I knew something was wrong. I told them. I tried so hard to call home.
I’m not sure if I’ll ever stop wondering if it would have made a difference.
“Hi Bella, it’s me. I’m driving home. Um, can you call me? Okay, bye.”
Was I the last person you tried to contact?
Had you already taken something at that point? Was there anything I could have done? Is there anything I can do now? I need to make this better.
I need to make this better.
I’m choosing to believe you’re not in a “better place”. I really fucking hope you’re in paradise, singing Norah Jones at the top of your lungs and sitting near the water... but I’m choosing to believe that you’re not. This is going to sound selfish, and maybe it is, but the idea that you’re in a better place sounds enticing for someone that suffers from depression. I want that better place. Wherever it is, I want it... but I have to keep telling myself that in due time I will be there, with you and others, blasting “Come Away with Me” and other songs that most people don’t even care for anymore.
People don’t really care how you are in the months following a suicide. It’s true. They ask and they check in every so often, but they don’t really care for the truth. “I’m okay” or “hanging in there” are perfectly okay replies because no one wants to hear about the dirty stuff. The fact that I have a storage unit full of personal possessions I can’t bring myself to go through- no one cares. The fact I haven’t been able to work because the thought of caring about someone else so deeply again and losing them in the blink of an eye is debilitating. I’m physically capable of working but I’m having these debilitating panic attacks where my hands cramp up and I have no use of my fingers or hands, at one point getting so bad that nurses had to put the pills and water on my mouth so my body could relax enough to breathe again. And the worst part is I don’t really know what brings them on. The only thing I can do is change my medication and hope for the best... what a way to live right?
At this point my team and I have decided the best step for me is to get a fresh start.
Leaving Texas won’t solve my problems.
When I’ve mentioned to people that I need to get out of this state that is usually the first thing they tell me. I know this, but I also know and trust that it will help. Over the last eight years I’ve had a team of professionals looking out for my best interest— they know me best. They know what I do from the moment I wake up each morning to the moment I close my eyes at night. My therapist has been seeing me the longest, almost ten years and she was the first to tell me to leave the state. I think most people think I’m trying to run away from my issues, but really, I’m trying to find safety from my issues.
I currently live three main blocks away from my old apartment. Each time I drive past the Lakefront Villas sign I get flashbacks of the night I found out she was gone. There were only three people there that night, one of which has become a lifelong friend, but only three people really know the pain this caused. If you weren’t there I don’t expect you to understand.
I also currently live a short ten minute drive from the place where I was raped. I don’t think I’ve ever put it out there just like that, but it’s the truth so why not right? When I finally started telling people I was raped, I got some support, and I also got the standard response, “are you sure it’s not just something you regret?” He doesn’t live there anymore as far as I know, but I recently found out he still lives in the general area. I shouldn’t have to say this, but I will— it is nearly impossible to heal in the same place that you were broken.
After years of work on my sexual assault/abuse and trauma I am for the most part okay. I can talk about it. I can write about it. And I’ve even learned I’m pretty damn good at making art with it, but it’s not fair to ask me to be okay living in it.
I’m struggling with day to day living. I’m working jobs where I don’t have to work on a set schedule or with a schedule I can make for myself (i.e. Wag! Dog walking and Favor). My team (MD/psych, therapist, nutritionist and nurse) all agree that a fresh start will make this 100% easier. I’m not running, I’m simply changing my environment.
I’m not sure how I’m going to do this yet. I’ve applied and am being considered for jobs in other states- I’m praying I hear something back. I’m trying to save up money— again with just trying to survive day to day this had proven to be difficult, but I’m working on it.
I’m trying not think of the hard stuff.
I know it sounds backwards, but like I said in the beginning of this post, that “better place” is very enticing at times.
To be honest, I’m not completely sure why I started typing this tonight. I just wanted to put some stuff out there in the Universe I guess. Here is some of my art from December.
I might fail at this whole life/moving/becoming thing. I may thrive too. I can’t know until I try.
Peace to y’all tonight,
Bella
