already wrote, already cried, already tired.

mumford and sons

i promised myself i would write today.  i don’t feel like i have much to offer the page.  i am pretty worn out from yesterday and today already.

sean and i talked a lot yesterday.  he doesn’t like how i talk about the old me as if it is not part of me anymore.  he thinks it is unhealthy and it scares him.  he has never liked the way i talk about my brain my brain being a separate entity.  i would say things like, “i just want to shut my brain the fuck up!!!!!” it has become more than that now, because i don’t feel like kim.  this is not kim.  if this is kim, then i fucking want to slap her and defriend her on facebook.

i talk a lot about how i don’t understand how sean can still love this person when he married someone so fucking different.  i know he is sick of hearing it.  i was never the girl to put on an outfit and prance in front of him and ask him, “do i look fat in this?”  i knew men hated then way more than any outfit.  that constant need for complements could drive them crazy, so i just didn’t do it.  i stepped back and knew he for whatever reason found me to be a goddess.  i would not place doubt in that thought process.  if i had one man find me to be a fucking goddess, then just shut the fuck up and go out in the outfit and have fun. i have become that woman.  i look at him all the time and ask him why he still wants to be married to me. i am different.  i am not kim.  i am someone else and kim is not coming back.  usually he is silent.  yesterday he had enough.

he told me i was kim.  i am kim.  I AM KIM!!!!!!!!  all the things i talk about that don’t make me kim are just tasks and they don’t define me.  he looks at me and he still sees me…the only me that will ever be there. there is no replacement.  other things have changed that would have changed my behavior and the way i ran the house anyhow.

what he doesn’t understand if that i don’t feel like kim. i don’t feel like me.  i don’t feel like my skin fits me. i don’t know who is staring back at me in the mirror.  i tell him so many other suicide survivors describe this so i know it is true.  i tell him i think my therapist says it is normal and that letting go of the old me is part of the process of finding and and excepting what is coming down the line.  he is trying to understand it, but it scares the shit out of him.  he saw my breakdown.  i didn’t write during my breakdown.  i didn’t write about thinking the meds were poisoning me and that i would double over in pain or pull my hair or at my eyes.  that i didn’t understand why i still had eyes.  i believed they should have been scratched out when tom died.  that the appropriate reaction was to scratch my eyes out and since i didn’t something was wrong and i was being poisoned.  he lived through this and much, much more.  pulling me out of the tub and getting me ready for the hospital.  admitting me and then seeing the fear in my eyes as i looked around then  trying to get the nurse to release me.  watching me curl up into a ball crying hysterically over and over, but in the setting of the hospital is was unbearable and he just wanted to bring me home and watch over me himself.  he lived through that.  i talked a lot about myself in the third person as my mind shattered.  i understand why he can’t hear me talk about letting go of a me i know will never come back.  i don’t know how to word it.

i also cried in front of him for 45 minutes.  then rocked back and forth and told him that the fact that i was crying and talking was good.  that i know it is painful for him to see, but i am not walking around with a thick wall around me unable to meet his gaze.  unable to look at his eyes full of emotion, because mine are dead most of the time.  the fact that i was crying and identifying emotions with words and ideas was good.  that i have been stuck and i am trying to move forward and it will be messing, bu ti can’t keep falling.  i can’t keep pulling my shit together and then completely falling apart and landing back in bed.

i go to a site for survivors of suicide.  i mostly put on a happy face there.  i reach out to every single new member and write them a personalized response.  i try to make sure that none of them are the same even if it is the fifth one i am writing that day.  i also have started following with interest certain members.  i try to remember them on days i know will be hard and try to watch for their posts.  i have opened up a few times.  started a thread for myself, but mostly i go there to try to keep the armor on and reach out to those who are in a much more painful place than me.

so between here and there i have been writing.  between here and there and my conversation with sean, i have been working really hard.  i want to break free from this grief.  i know it is very normal to still be in so much pain after a suicide and after the tragic way things played out, but i only have this one life and i can not spend much more of it this way.

there is a mumford and sons song i have been listening to that has been reminding me about how lucky i am to have such an awesome family and really lucky to have such amazing brothers.  i think of all the times both of them have held me up.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kl-VCHzS1So

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