You know, I used to equate Zach with home. Home is where the heart is, right? And he was where my heart was. And it's so unsettling to want to be home, but not be able to be home.
I listened to one of his songs today. A song he made while we were living together but that I never heard until after he was gone. It makes me cry because I just want so BADLY to talk to him about that song. To run right into his arms and let him hold me so I can cry for real. It hurts.
And now I'm worried about driving home. Driving home used to be a hard thing for me when we first moved in together because that was the time I'd call Samantha and we'd chatter away about nothing. I remember leaving him for the first time after we moved in last November for Thanksgiving. As soon as I got in my car after kissing him good bye and was on the way to merging onto the interstate, I was crying. I cried for so long. I hated leaving him behind. I could literally feel my heart pulling me backwards and was fighting it the whole way.
I know that sounds dramatic and/or pitiful, but it's true. I hated being separated from him. I still hate it, but I can't, absolutely cannot do anything about it.
And thus, I am so just.. forlorn and angry with him. So angry that he isn't there like he always was. So angry that I'd taken him for granted, that he'd taken himself for granted, and now we are just.. separated eternally. Until death do us together?
But by then.. who will I be? By then, who will I love? By then, will this kind of pain even matter anymore? Will it have been nullified? Replaced by another's love? I hate thinking these questions! But i do it anyways, because I'm curious by nature and can't help myself.
Siiiiggghhhhh. Zachary. Oh Zachary, my dearest. I wish so many things. But they don't matter. They cannot come to light. Maybe in dreams, but even there I find little relief. And I feel my face tingling with tears. And hurt. And sorrow. And fear. And just plain sadness. And I hate it, because I want you, YOU, to help me get rid of that feeling, and you can't. In fact, you're fostering these feelings.
I miss you, darling. I miss you so much I can't even comprehend it yet. My brain won't let me to protect me from myself. From what we had. I can't remember who you are. I can't remember what it felt like to live with you, play with you, walk, run, bike, sing, whistle, eat, love, laugh with you. I can't remember any of those things. And I hate that too, because you are way too important for me to just forget like that. Milena put it best. You are now a figment of my imagination. And I hate it. I hate looking at your pictures and NOT knowing who you are. Or..rather, knowing who you are, but not feeling what that means to me. How is that possible? How can so much love over such a long period of time engender little to no reactions from me? Those memories of you should make me cry. Make me fall to the ground, paralyzed with what we've lost. Grief should overwhelm me, Zach, and it doesn't. Where is it? I remember asking you that about Samantha. When will I feel the grief, Zach? And you just told me that I had been feeling it and that at that moment, I was probably just too tired to keep on feeling it.
And it scares me. Because the grief of her death lingered with me for so long, Zach. And I honestly don't want that to happen again. I don't want to be in grief for another year. Another long, dark year.
Earlier this week, I looked forward to going home. To catching a break, some R&R with my parents and siblings. But now I'm just scared of that car ride home. Scared of the time it'll give me to think and remember. Of the time it'll give me to yell, because I do a LOT of yelling in the car. Lots and lots of yelling and then apologizing for yelling. Who am I apologizing to? I think my car. Time to hurt. Time to realize what I've been missing these past three weeks. Just.. time, too much time to myself. I fear it. Because no matter how many hugs I get, how many people hold me close or tell me it'll be okay, I can't get rid of the grief, I can't be really consoled. Temporarily maybe. But it'll all come back.
Zach. Zach attack. Honey bean. Duckling pie. My sweet, sweet baby love. Where are you in all of this? How do you feel? How can someone so tall and so full of life leave and return in a cardboard box as ashes? How is that honestly possible? What are the chances that you'd leave me once and that would be the last time? Why would life allow that to happen? How could YOU allow that to happen? Didn't you worry about me? About your family? About Lucy?
Didn't you think about that?
God, Zachary. Just...
god. and sighs. and weariness. I am listless now. Truly. I remember learning that word and thinking, "Last year, I was listless."
Irony all over me. And frustration too. And confusion, throw in some confusion into that concoction please.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Post Twenty-Two: GRE
In two hours, I will be sitting at a computer in some mundane, sterile room taking the GRE for FOUR hours. This is the moment I have been working up to and I hope the culmination of my studies is apparent in my score. I spent a lot of my last month with Zach studying for this blasted thing and I will be livid if my assiduousness doesn't pull through.
Everyone feels that I will do well. But I think Life itself would have more of a laugh if I didn't. Because of that, I worry I won't.
But.. we'll see. I know better. Life doesn't care about laughs.
My general feelings over the past few days have been frustration, primarily at Zach. But also because before last night, I had had three consecutive dreams about being intimate with another person.
Hell. Bloody Hell.
I mean, I guess when you go from sleeping nude every night with your beloved, cuddling, canoodling, carnal knowing, to chastity in all areas of being in a relationship in the matter of moments, your brain is bound to start giving you subtle hints that it's not into this type of paucity. I guess my brain decided three weeks was too long and that it needed to remind me these sorts of things exist because it would very much like them to resume.
It's tortuous. It's tantalizing. It's downright enough to make you angry.
And so I am. Angry with Zach. Angry with him for not thinking about this, about abandoning all of us should anything he decide to do end his life. Maybe he did think about this kind of thing, but he must have assumed nothing would ever happen to him to that degree. Never happen to us. I know he must have assumed that, otherwise he would not have bothered acquiring a pet ferret three weeks before his demise. He would not have bothered brainstorming for children's names with me. He would not have bothered spending 3 hours looking at land for sale in the Untied States a mere four days before he fell so that he could build credit. He would not have bothered starting a CD he never completed.
He wouldn't have bothered. I guess if he assumed this sort of thing was going to happen, he would have been living a little bit differently. I bet he would not have been working his job still. That would have been the first thing to go.
Siiiiggghhh.
Futile Ruminations.
Sometimes I wonder why I even bother taking the time to write those things down. It seems hurtful to write them down. Like thoughts you should keep to yourself. But I guess I didn't ASK anyone to read this, just presented it to them should they want to.
I've been asking Zach, in between my ranting soliloquies to him, to advise me on things. Advise me on how long he feels is appropriate for me to wait before looking around this world for some other beloved. Advise me on my future living situations, alone or not? Advise me on whether or not I should get a tattoo (because honestly, I think he'd disapprove of permanently marring my being, though that didn't stop him from permanently marring my mentality).
(and for the record, I know the answers to these questions will present themselves when the time is right. but umm. i want to know now, please.)
Is the bitterness just seething from my pores? I think so.
Anyhow, I'm going to take this GRE. I am going to prevail, whether I score well or not. Once it's over, I'm going to lose one purpose in my life, studying, but gain another, applying to grad school. Then I'm going to go home because all of this is just making me sick to my stomach with homesickness.
Wistfully yours,
The Ringlet Leader.
Everyone feels that I will do well. But I think Life itself would have more of a laugh if I didn't. Because of that, I worry I won't.
But.. we'll see. I know better. Life doesn't care about laughs.
My general feelings over the past few days have been frustration, primarily at Zach. But also because before last night, I had had three consecutive dreams about being intimate with another person.
Hell. Bloody Hell.
I mean, I guess when you go from sleeping nude every night with your beloved, cuddling, canoodling, carnal knowing, to chastity in all areas of being in a relationship in the matter of moments, your brain is bound to start giving you subtle hints that it's not into this type of paucity. I guess my brain decided three weeks was too long and that it needed to remind me these sorts of things exist because it would very much like them to resume.
It's tortuous. It's tantalizing. It's downright enough to make you angry.
And so I am. Angry with Zach. Angry with him for not thinking about this, about abandoning all of us should anything he decide to do end his life. Maybe he did think about this kind of thing, but he must have assumed nothing would ever happen to him to that degree. Never happen to us. I know he must have assumed that, otherwise he would not have bothered acquiring a pet ferret three weeks before his demise. He would not have bothered brainstorming for children's names with me. He would not have bothered spending 3 hours looking at land for sale in the Untied States a mere four days before he fell so that he could build credit. He would not have bothered starting a CD he never completed.
He wouldn't have bothered. I guess if he assumed this sort of thing was going to happen, he would have been living a little bit differently. I bet he would not have been working his job still. That would have been the first thing to go.
Siiiiggghhh.
Futile Ruminations.
Sometimes I wonder why I even bother taking the time to write those things down. It seems hurtful to write them down. Like thoughts you should keep to yourself. But I guess I didn't ASK anyone to read this, just presented it to them should they want to.
I've been asking Zach, in between my ranting soliloquies to him, to advise me on things. Advise me on how long he feels is appropriate for me to wait before looking around this world for some other beloved. Advise me on my future living situations, alone or not? Advise me on whether or not I should get a tattoo (because honestly, I think he'd disapprove of permanently marring my being, though that didn't stop him from permanently marring my mentality).
(and for the record, I know the answers to these questions will present themselves when the time is right. but umm. i want to know now, please.)
Is the bitterness just seething from my pores? I think so.
Anyhow, I'm going to take this GRE. I am going to prevail, whether I score well or not. Once it's over, I'm going to lose one purpose in my life, studying, but gain another, applying to grad school. Then I'm going to go home because all of this is just making me sick to my stomach with homesickness.
Wistfully yours,
The Ringlet Leader.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Post Twenty-One: One is the Loneliest
It's just no good anymore since you went away. Now I spend my time making rhymes of yesterday.
I had this totally futile thought this morning right as I woke up. Maybe a realization finally put into words in my brain? Want to know what it was?
Samantha didn't want to die. Zach didn't want to die.
How can we know this? Plans. That's how. Samantha had PLANS for herself, for her LIFE. Zach had PLANS with me, plans of family, ones we were both excited to bring to light.
I feel kind of foggy lately. My brain is behind a gossamer veil and it's making me feel like I'm not controlling what I'm doing. It's also making me very unimaginative and keeping me far from clever. I sat down to write in my journal yesterday, and what I wrote is so mundane that I apologized for wasting an entry. Apologized to my journal. Ha.
I feel as though i'm being undermined somehow. My light and energy are being sapped straight from my corporeal and mental being. Vivacity is down. Maybe I'm getting sick. That doesn't seem too off, considering my snotty nose.
Yesterday I slept all day. All day. That's worrisome for me.. just because, I don't really ever do that. But, I have been spending as much time as possible awake lately.
The GRE is in two days. I'm spending today at the library. I finished studying vocab, but I need to review it, and there's still quite a bit of math I should go over.
I'm unfeeling today, I think. And was so yesterday, but mostly because I spent most of my time asleep. There's a pressure in my ears. I think this pressure is part of that diaphanous dupatta, i can't listen to myself think.
BLEG! I want to make the most exasperated noises possible.
Saturday I had a breakdown. I'd spent the entire day Friday with friends for birthday fun and Saturday morning, after breakfast, we were all sitting in the living room watching Rushmore, a movie I'd been dying to sit and watch with Zach (along with 1941) but never got a chance to do so. I was on the floor, to stretch out, and turned to my left to find a sister and a friend paired off together in a very comfortable looking slumber.
I turn to my right to find yet another sister and another friend paired off together, also safely sleeping on one another.
Not that there is anything wrong with that, but imagine, just imagine how abandoned that made me feel. Wide awake. And totally alone with no one to lay on me or me to lay on. Not too long ago, there would have been someone for me.
To be clear, these pairs were the only people I was keeping company with at the time.
One is the loneliest number.
So I went to the back porch and sobbed. Sobbed. Felt sorry for myself. Felt sorry for Zach. Felt sorry for our relationship. Felt sorry for Samantha and our relationship. Felt sorry. I hate this portion of life I'm living through right now. My mom told me that it's a portion of life I have to navigate utterly alone because no one can understand what I'm feeling due to the nature of the relationships I had with both Samantha and Zach.
Alone. Wow. Literally this time. It's like Life is just saying to me, "Juliana, you think you were alone then, back when you felt friendless? Well guess what, I'll give you friends, but you'll still be alone. You up for that challenge?"
And to life I say, "Well, Life, doesn't look like I have much of a choice, now does it?"
Anyways, in my despair Saturday morning, I called upon Milena. And holy cow, can that girl just... take every negative thing you have floating around in your emotion potion, winnow them out, and make you feel as normal as possible again. It was so strange. I was surprised that by the end of Saturday, I'd laughed SO hard and felt just so.. at peace again.
My mom helped too. She sent me comments for my blog and I can't tell you, or anyone, how much they helped me. It's sort of like this. I'm going along in life, feeling things and not really understanding them. Talking about them, hoping to find understanding that way. And though my own words in a blog help me sort through things, I don't really get too far with understanding. My mom's comments though, were like the missing pieces. The removed (at first I put "objective" but being my mother, I don't think she can have an objective point of view about me, right?) point of view I needed from someone who KNOWS me to understand what's going on in this brain of mine.
A quick list of coincidences before I leave:
Samantha died from brain injury.
Zach died from brain injury.
Robin's brother was killed by a waterfall.
Robin's son was killed by a waterfall.
Samantha was my best friend.
Zach was my best friend, and more.
Zach was scared of heights.
Zach fell 80 ft to his death.
Samantha and Zachary were both risk takers. Samantha was a klutz and constantly fell down, Zach put himself in situations that required falling.
Samantha and Zach both lived more than I have in my 23 years. But despite their utter love of life, they both passed on.
*Edit, October 1st*
I thought of another coincidence.
Zach died in a beautiful place. Sky Falls, NC
Samantha died in a beautiful place. The Botanical Gardens - Clemson, SC
*end edit*
wahh! Anyways, off to study.
I had this totally futile thought this morning right as I woke up. Maybe a realization finally put into words in my brain? Want to know what it was?
Samantha didn't want to die. Zach didn't want to die.
How can we know this? Plans. That's how. Samantha had PLANS for herself, for her LIFE. Zach had PLANS with me, plans of family, ones we were both excited to bring to light.
I feel kind of foggy lately. My brain is behind a gossamer veil and it's making me feel like I'm not controlling what I'm doing. It's also making me very unimaginative and keeping me far from clever. I sat down to write in my journal yesterday, and what I wrote is so mundane that I apologized for wasting an entry. Apologized to my journal. Ha.
I feel as though i'm being undermined somehow. My light and energy are being sapped straight from my corporeal and mental being. Vivacity is down. Maybe I'm getting sick. That doesn't seem too off, considering my snotty nose.
Yesterday I slept all day. All day. That's worrisome for me.. just because, I don't really ever do that. But, I have been spending as much time as possible awake lately.
The GRE is in two days. I'm spending today at the library. I finished studying vocab, but I need to review it, and there's still quite a bit of math I should go over.
I'm unfeeling today, I think. And was so yesterday, but mostly because I spent most of my time asleep. There's a pressure in my ears. I think this pressure is part of that diaphanous dupatta, i can't listen to myself think.
BLEG! I want to make the most exasperated noises possible.
Saturday I had a breakdown. I'd spent the entire day Friday with friends for birthday fun and Saturday morning, after breakfast, we were all sitting in the living room watching Rushmore, a movie I'd been dying to sit and watch with Zach (along with 1941) but never got a chance to do so. I was on the floor, to stretch out, and turned to my left to find a sister and a friend paired off together in a very comfortable looking slumber.
I turn to my right to find yet another sister and another friend paired off together, also safely sleeping on one another.
Not that there is anything wrong with that, but imagine, just imagine how abandoned that made me feel. Wide awake. And totally alone with no one to lay on me or me to lay on. Not too long ago, there would have been someone for me.
To be clear, these pairs were the only people I was keeping company with at the time.
One is the loneliest number.
So I went to the back porch and sobbed. Sobbed. Felt sorry for myself. Felt sorry for Zach. Felt sorry for our relationship. Felt sorry for Samantha and our relationship. Felt sorry. I hate this portion of life I'm living through right now. My mom told me that it's a portion of life I have to navigate utterly alone because no one can understand what I'm feeling due to the nature of the relationships I had with both Samantha and Zach.
Alone. Wow. Literally this time. It's like Life is just saying to me, "Juliana, you think you were alone then, back when you felt friendless? Well guess what, I'll give you friends, but you'll still be alone. You up for that challenge?"
And to life I say, "Well, Life, doesn't look like I have much of a choice, now does it?"
Anyways, in my despair Saturday morning, I called upon Milena. And holy cow, can that girl just... take every negative thing you have floating around in your emotion potion, winnow them out, and make you feel as normal as possible again. It was so strange. I was surprised that by the end of Saturday, I'd laughed SO hard and felt just so.. at peace again.
My mom helped too. She sent me comments for my blog and I can't tell you, or anyone, how much they helped me. It's sort of like this. I'm going along in life, feeling things and not really understanding them. Talking about them, hoping to find understanding that way. And though my own words in a blog help me sort through things, I don't really get too far with understanding. My mom's comments though, were like the missing pieces. The removed (at first I put "objective" but being my mother, I don't think she can have an objective point of view about me, right?) point of view I needed from someone who KNOWS me to understand what's going on in this brain of mine.
A quick list of coincidences before I leave:
Samantha died from brain injury.
Zach died from brain injury.
Robin's brother was killed by a waterfall.
Robin's son was killed by a waterfall.
Samantha was my best friend.
Zach was my best friend, and more.
Zach was scared of heights.
Zach fell 80 ft to his death.
Samantha and Zachary were both risk takers. Samantha was a klutz and constantly fell down, Zach put himself in situations that required falling.
Samantha and Zach both lived more than I have in my 23 years. But despite their utter love of life, they both passed on.
*Edit, October 1st*
I thought of another coincidence.
Zach died in a beautiful place. Sky Falls, NC
Samantha died in a beautiful place. The Botanical Gardens - Clemson, SC
*end edit*
wahh! Anyways, off to study.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Post Twenty: Person Block
My essence is losing it's words again. I feel myself doing what I did before. I've run out of new things to say, because it's always just the same old feelings everyday. So I don't say them as much anymore because I'm tired of hearing them, i'm tired of the persistence. I'm tired of my voice.
same feelings, same words, same voice. nothing changes.
so to save those around me, and myself, i stop words. I don't stop feelings. Do I? am i feeling? I can't tell. somehow, i can't tell what i'm feeling. i guess that also stops words too.
If I stop my words, for whatever reason, I will lose myself. I know that. Because I'll keep all the same repetitive thoughts cached and they will stack up and up and up and up and up with no outlet. And I'll spend all my time inside my brain trying to sort through the mess.
But despite knowing that, i don't think I can help myself. My dad says to not try to do anything, to just be myself. But myself can sometimes be self-destructive in that I will refrain from expressing myself because of embarrassment, annoyance, weariness.
My favorite word right now, since I'm still studying that stuff, is tantalize. It's never been so fitting for me. I have been tantalized. and I don't know when or if that will ever stop.
do I make any sense anymore? i can't tell.
*Edit 30 minutes later*
I've begun reading The Year of Magical Thinking. Lindsey, Zach's older sister, gave it to me. In it I found the words describing exactly what I'm feeling:
"sensations of somatic distress occurring in waves lasting from twenty minutes to an hour at a time, a feeling of tightness in the throat, chocking with shortness of breath, need for sighing, and an empty feeling in the abdomen, lack of muscular power, and an intense subjective distress described as tension or mental pain."
Adding that to the Beatles post, it appears that though I am losing my own words, other people have kindly provided theirs for me to pull from. So while I may be unable to tell you what's happening to me, they will be able to do so in my place.
same feelings, same words, same voice. nothing changes.
so to save those around me, and myself, i stop words. I don't stop feelings. Do I? am i feeling? I can't tell. somehow, i can't tell what i'm feeling. i guess that also stops words too.
If I stop my words, for whatever reason, I will lose myself. I know that. Because I'll keep all the same repetitive thoughts cached and they will stack up and up and up and up and up with no outlet. And I'll spend all my time inside my brain trying to sort through the mess.
But despite knowing that, i don't think I can help myself. My dad says to not try to do anything, to just be myself. But myself can sometimes be self-destructive in that I will refrain from expressing myself because of embarrassment, annoyance, weariness.
My favorite word right now, since I'm still studying that stuff, is tantalize. It's never been so fitting for me. I have been tantalized. and I don't know when or if that will ever stop.
do I make any sense anymore? i can't tell.
*Edit 30 minutes later*
I've begun reading The Year of Magical Thinking. Lindsey, Zach's older sister, gave it to me. In it I found the words describing exactly what I'm feeling:
"sensations of somatic distress occurring in waves lasting from twenty minutes to an hour at a time, a feeling of tightness in the throat, chocking with shortness of breath, need for sighing, and an empty feeling in the abdomen, lack of muscular power, and an intense subjective distress described as tension or mental pain."
Adding that to the Beatles post, it appears that though I am losing my own words, other people have kindly provided theirs for me to pull from. So while I may be unable to tell you what's happening to me, they will be able to do so in my place.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Post Nineteen: Alone Again
This is it. This is the night I face my new room. Alone. My new, lonely room.
Craaaapppp. I expected the wake to hurt. I expected the funeral to hurt. I expected the dream to hurt. I expected the apartment to hurt. I expected the ashes to hurt. But this? It really hurts.
I don't want to walk back there and go to sleep in my bed. Alone. With four pillows. Two that aren't... weren't my nightly pillows but his. Ouch. I feel my throat opening up. That's always what happens before the waterworks.
And the worst part is that I keep thinking if only I could call Samantha. Why am I thinking those thoughts? I know well and good that I can't call Samantha, so why am I dying to talk to her.
I am feeling plucked from my comfort zone. That makes sense. I was placed directly into my discomfort zone. This was not what I wanted out of life. This was not what I'd expected. This was what I most feared. My worst fear.
Crap. I don't know what it is about that room. I don't know why I feel like this. I'm lucky to have this room to turn to. But yet...
It's like I formally accept it by falling asleep in there. Whereas I was informally accepting it before. I was a coucher and a bed sharer, by necessity.
I kept thinking earlier tonight, why someone I love? why the ONE I love? why THE one?
My answer, my only answer I can give myself, is that he wasn't my one. but. that's the most repulsive answer.
I have to stop thinking questions like this. I think they are ruining my idea that I must have as many happy moments as possible. But it's hard not to feel lost in midst of everyone. Like a wandering, lost grocery bag on the highway. And that in turn makes me feel sad. Lost and Sad and Lonely.
All who wander are not lost. But all who wander are not NOT lost.
I think I'm lost, but I keep going anyways. Am I getting more lost? It's too early to tell, but it's definitely something I fear. Not my worst fear, but something I fear.
I don't know what my worst fear is right now, but you know what? It's not my death. I have people on the other side now. I won't be alone in death. Death is like life. It just IS. Everyday it IS. And every time someone dies, someone you love, a part of you dies. Just like every time someone is born, someone you love, a part of you is born.
Give and take. Though, to be completely honest, I'm feeling a lot of take from life right now. And it's hard to see past that to see all the give. I know it's there. It's got to be, because I'm still here, right?
But why? Why Zach? Why Sam? Why the Jones'? Why the Cawthornes? Why me? Why any of us?
What's so special about us that death invites itself freely into our lives? Do other people experience things like this? Repeatedly? In general?
Have I gone from normal to not?
Zach, help. I am having a hard time finding the answers to these questions and you were always so good at telling me what they were. Samantha, please, I don't know what to do, what's right? I trust your judgement. I need it.
What. am. I. going. to. do? (And more importantly, will it be right?)
With that, I trudge to a tantalizing slumber. What am I going to doooooooooo?
Craaaapppp. I expected the wake to hurt. I expected the funeral to hurt. I expected the dream to hurt. I expected the apartment to hurt. I expected the ashes to hurt. But this? It really hurts.
I don't want to walk back there and go to sleep in my bed. Alone. With four pillows. Two that aren't... weren't my nightly pillows but his. Ouch. I feel my throat opening up. That's always what happens before the waterworks.
And the worst part is that I keep thinking if only I could call Samantha. Why am I thinking those thoughts? I know well and good that I can't call Samantha, so why am I dying to talk to her.
I am feeling plucked from my comfort zone. That makes sense. I was placed directly into my discomfort zone. This was not what I wanted out of life. This was not what I'd expected. This was what I most feared. My worst fear.
Crap. I don't know what it is about that room. I don't know why I feel like this. I'm lucky to have this room to turn to. But yet...
It's like I formally accept it by falling asleep in there. Whereas I was informally accepting it before. I was a coucher and a bed sharer, by necessity.
I kept thinking earlier tonight, why someone I love? why the ONE I love? why THE one?
My answer, my only answer I can give myself, is that he wasn't my one. but. that's the most repulsive answer.
I have to stop thinking questions like this. I think they are ruining my idea that I must have as many happy moments as possible. But it's hard not to feel lost in midst of everyone. Like a wandering, lost grocery bag on the highway. And that in turn makes me feel sad. Lost and Sad and Lonely.
All who wander are not lost. But all who wander are not NOT lost.
I think I'm lost, but I keep going anyways. Am I getting more lost? It's too early to tell, but it's definitely something I fear. Not my worst fear, but something I fear.
I don't know what my worst fear is right now, but you know what? It's not my death. I have people on the other side now. I won't be alone in death. Death is like life. It just IS. Everyday it IS. And every time someone dies, someone you love, a part of you dies. Just like every time someone is born, someone you love, a part of you is born.
Give and take. Though, to be completely honest, I'm feeling a lot of take from life right now. And it's hard to see past that to see all the give. I know it's there. It's got to be, because I'm still here, right?
But why? Why Zach? Why Sam? Why the Jones'? Why the Cawthornes? Why me? Why any of us?
What's so special about us that death invites itself freely into our lives? Do other people experience things like this? Repeatedly? In general?
Have I gone from normal to not?
Zach, help. I am having a hard time finding the answers to these questions and you were always so good at telling me what they were. Samantha, please, I don't know what to do, what's right? I trust your judgement. I need it.
What. am. I. going. to. do? (And more importantly, will it be right?)
With that, I trudge to a tantalizing slumber. What am I going to doooooooooo?
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Post Eighteen: When I was younger, so much younger than today
I never needed anybody's help in any way, but now these days have come I'm not so self assured. I find I've changed my mind and opened up the doors since my life has changed in oh so many ways that my independence seems to vanish in the haze. So every now and then I feel so insecure. I know that I just need you like I've never done before.
Help me if you can, I'm feeling down and I DO appreciate you being round. Help me get my feet back on the ground. Won't you please, please help me?
Won't you please, please help me?
Friday, September 16, 2011
Post Seventeen: You'll Rue the Day. . .
I'm feeling shy after my last post. Or maybe ashamed. Either way, it's funky.
When Samantha died, I never faced feelings of bitterness and anger towards her, just towards the world for being so cruel. Zach's death is different though. Ever since I visited our apartment on Wednesday alone for the first time since the day he fell, I've felt angry with Zach. I know it's...useless, because it's not like he could really help what happened once it happened or probably even realized he was putting himself in a risky situation, but I am. But couldn't he have thought, for a moment, that maybe he shouldn't have been that close?
Thinking these kinds of things are totally futile. I know.
So yesterday, when I woke up, I couldn't sleep anymore despite it being before 8 a.m. I find that the moment my brain starts thinking, I am forced out of bed because I can't face those thoughts. And besides, all night long when I'd wake up from my restless sleep, I'd look around the room expecting to see Zach standing in it, looking at me. I don't know why, but every single time I woke up, and it was at least 3 times, I looked around expecting to see him.
So I got up, and just went for a run. It didn't really make me feel any less angry, but it did wear me out. And i got to stomp some puddles really hard. That was nice. Acorns too. Zach used to laugh at me when we'd go on walks downtown and I'd crush every acorn we'd pass.
But.. anger is the general feeling. I want to yell at him. Rewind and ask him to reconsider his curiosity. You know what they say, right? And ironically, Zach never liked cats, but he certainly could relate to the adage now.
Tomorrow I face our apartment. I won't have to do it alone, thankfully, all of the boys are offering their help, and some of my adopted sisters too. Tomorrow another part of my and Zach's wonderful life dissipates. The remnants of our life slowly disintegrate. But tomorrow is the only other part of our life that must be disassembled in order for me to continue in life. I'll forever keep all the mementos I can, but an apartment cannot be kept.
I started studying for the GRE again yesterday. When I said that all this studying better be worth it and i better make a good score, it was because I had wasted so much time not hanging out with Zach to study instead. I better make a good score, because those were some of the last moments I could have had with him and I sacrificed them to prepare myself for this test. Zach would tell me not to regret that I was studying, that that thought is one of those thoughts that will needlessly torture you. So I'm not regretting it, but it better be worth it.
It's hard to escape these feelings. This whole world that has betrayed me two too many times.
I'm considering a memorial tattoo for both Samantha and Zach. The Jones' have all been considering one and the boys too, though everyone has something different they'd like to get. I'll have to work out a good idea though, I want something beautiful, something that purely represents the vivacity of these two.
I'm feeling kind of mechanical right now. Can you feel it too?
Here's something interesting that happened within the last 20 minutes. I was sitting outside on the front stoop writing in my journal, and just as I completed my entry, a little frog/toad hopped up to the stairs. So I said "Hello, frog" as I often do to anything that appears, and approached it. At first it hopped away from me, but I started moving slowly enough so that it let me stroke it's back and didn't run. So I started to rub the side of it's froggy face with my finger and do you know what that wild amphibian did? It leaned into my fingers, relished the tickles. So I started to tickle the other side of his face, to ensure it was my fingers he was leaning into and not some weird quirk, and sure enough, he began to lean the opposite direction into my finger tips. Then he just hopped away.
A wild animal has never trusted me like that. It was . . . whoa.
And I curl my feelings into my heart and slowly drift away.
When Samantha died, I never faced feelings of bitterness and anger towards her, just towards the world for being so cruel. Zach's death is different though. Ever since I visited our apartment on Wednesday alone for the first time since the day he fell, I've felt angry with Zach. I know it's...useless, because it's not like he could really help what happened once it happened or probably even realized he was putting himself in a risky situation, but I am. But couldn't he have thought, for a moment, that maybe he shouldn't have been that close?
Thinking these kinds of things are totally futile. I know.
So yesterday, when I woke up, I couldn't sleep anymore despite it being before 8 a.m. I find that the moment my brain starts thinking, I am forced out of bed because I can't face those thoughts. And besides, all night long when I'd wake up from my restless sleep, I'd look around the room expecting to see Zach standing in it, looking at me. I don't know why, but every single time I woke up, and it was at least 3 times, I looked around expecting to see him.
So I got up, and just went for a run. It didn't really make me feel any less angry, but it did wear me out. And i got to stomp some puddles really hard. That was nice. Acorns too. Zach used to laugh at me when we'd go on walks downtown and I'd crush every acorn we'd pass.
But.. anger is the general feeling. I want to yell at him. Rewind and ask him to reconsider his curiosity. You know what they say, right? And ironically, Zach never liked cats, but he certainly could relate to the adage now.
Tomorrow I face our apartment. I won't have to do it alone, thankfully, all of the boys are offering their help, and some of my adopted sisters too. Tomorrow another part of my and Zach's wonderful life dissipates. The remnants of our life slowly disintegrate. But tomorrow is the only other part of our life that must be disassembled in order for me to continue in life. I'll forever keep all the mementos I can, but an apartment cannot be kept.
I started studying for the GRE again yesterday. When I said that all this studying better be worth it and i better make a good score, it was because I had wasted so much time not hanging out with Zach to study instead. I better make a good score, because those were some of the last moments I could have had with him and I sacrificed them to prepare myself for this test. Zach would tell me not to regret that I was studying, that that thought is one of those thoughts that will needlessly torture you. So I'm not regretting it, but it better be worth it.
It's hard to escape these feelings. This whole world that has betrayed me two too many times.
I'm considering a memorial tattoo for both Samantha and Zach. The Jones' have all been considering one and the boys too, though everyone has something different they'd like to get. I'll have to work out a good idea though, I want something beautiful, something that purely represents the vivacity of these two.
I'm feeling kind of mechanical right now. Can you feel it too?
Here's something interesting that happened within the last 20 minutes. I was sitting outside on the front stoop writing in my journal, and just as I completed my entry, a little frog/toad hopped up to the stairs. So I said "Hello, frog" as I often do to anything that appears, and approached it. At first it hopped away from me, but I started moving slowly enough so that it let me stroke it's back and didn't run. So I started to rub the side of it's froggy face with my finger and do you know what that wild amphibian did? It leaned into my fingers, relished the tickles. So I started to tickle the other side of his face, to ensure it was my fingers he was leaning into and not some weird quirk, and sure enough, he began to lean the opposite direction into my finger tips. Then he just hopped away.
A wild animal has never trusted me like that. It was . . . whoa.
And I curl my feelings into my heart and slowly drift away.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Post Sixteen: We've come full circle.
Here I am, back at step one of the grieving process. Ironic? Yeah, I'm going to have to have a little chat with this "Ironic" thing, because it's really just been spending too much time in my life. So begins Post Sixteen.
Ow. I'd be lying if I said I feel happy right now. Last night was the first night I went to bed alone and woke up alone. I'm practically forced into sleep when i hit that pillow to avoid thoughts and forced out of bed the moment I realize it'll take effort to fall back asleep.
I'm back home with my parents for just the night to pick up the things I'd left when I returned to Charleston for Zach's funeral.
Did I really just say that? Zach's funeral?
I'm at a total loss. I don't know what to say. I have a hard time knowing how I feel. Here, let's try to define it: RIGHT NOW = I feel.. really really pissed off. I feel confused. I feel scared. I feel so so so heartbroken. I feel robbed. I feel exhausted. I feel like living stone.
Today is the 14th. It has been 11, count them, 11 days since Zach died.
I want to curse so badly, but this being public, I know how that would go.
but.. WHAT THE FUCK!?
I keep asking myself all kinds of questions. Like.."Who am I going to be?" "What happens to me now?" "Will I ever have someone like him again?"
And then I argue with myself immediately after, "You can't possibly know the answer to these things, so sit back and just live until they happen." I want to know where this logic came from.
That's why I'm so confused. I feel grief, I mourn sometimes, but then this strange, logical, practical something, not a voice, not an essence, but.. an emotion? feeling? takes over me and scolds me for spending time grieving. I'd like to blame Zach for that, but...
I don't know.
I just don't know ANYTHING. And I can't. And I never will. If life wanted to make sure I was aware that I am not omniscient, it sure as hell did a fabulous job of A) letting me know and B) rubbing it mercilessly in my face.
Zach was, is, will always be unlike anyone I've ever known. He was/is/will always be the most influential person in the shortest amount of time. He taught me to breathe and relax. He taught me to stop fretting the small things. He taught me that I'm in control of how life makes me feel. He taught me that I am wonderful and talented and worthwhile.
Goddddammmiiitttgoddddammmiiitttgodddaammmiiit (i'm sorry mama, but there is nothing else. One time i tried to find a word to replace an explicative, i thought really long and really hard, but the words i came up with just didn't add the same kick to my message).
I haven't cried about Zach for a little while until this morning. Not since Saturday, three days ago. I've been having a hard time, I guess, understanding the loss? No...I don't know, that doesn't seem right.
Alright STOP.
Start over. Here's what it is:
Zach's life was about life. It was about doing whatever he wanted to do so long as it made him happy. If anything prevented him from feeling the best, he said, "Later punks" and got the hell out of there. Zach's funeral/death was ALSO about life. About living the life that made you happiest and about enjoying all of it. About playing like you're still 7 years old and imagining you're a super hero.
Zach's life with me was nothing but love. Shameless, accepting, pure love. I could totally be myself and Zach could, too. We didn't judge. We were that stupid bible verse to the T. Love is patient, love is kind, love doesn't pass judgement, love is everything blah blah blah. That was us. Patient, kind, totally accepting, all encompassing, the reason I made it through everyday, even in my darkest hours.
I don't know what his friend's know about this, the love we shared. My friends, not just his, I guess. I don't know if they understood how much he meant to me and me to him. Once, when he was called away from me, he told me, "No one ever seems to understand the aweseomeness I'm missing all the time." And that's a quote to the T because I have a lonnnnnngggg text message history to be accessed on my phone.
And I know everyone is missing Zach. I see it in everyone's faces. Hear it in their voices. Notice it in the lost sparkle they all used to have.
But no one knows, understands, and maybe never will, the awesomeness that has been taken from us, me & zach. Our whole life changed in one sentence. I can't remember it word for word, but I believe it went something like "Zach died." Maybe an "Oh honey" was thrown in there first.
Getting sidetracked, this is the first time I'm blog working through my thoughts, so please excuse the just.. scatteredness.
Back on track:
Zach's life was just downright fun filled. So every time I start to feel myself slip into the grief of losing him, a grief I probably will never be able to face completely because that's a mighty large grief, I begin to think of his life and the lessons he taught me and the advice he'd give me for dealing with Samantha's death and being a downer in general.
Live, Juliana. Live and enjoy life. You only have one, and everyday is a gift. It's so cliche sounding, I know, but it's exactly what I have learned.
So I don't know. I don't think I'm avoiding grief, I just think it's being blocked by that lesson, that idea of spending as many moments happy as possible. I like to think Zach's doing this, helping me remember this, filling up my brain when I get down and removing bad feelings and replacing them with grateful ones.
But I don't know if I'm just deluding myself thinking that.
Plus, I find that I can't put those sad feelings on him. I can't explain that either other than he was just so happy all the time, it's difficult to feel sad whenever I think about him.
And I still feel him everywhere. With Samantha, I felt her LOSS everywhere. And when I'm hanging out with the whole gang, I have a hard time ignoring the lack of Zach's physical presence, but I feel him still. Something inside of me has changed. And I feel that maybe part of Zach's essence has embedded itself right into mine and that's why I feel like he's still hovering around.
WAH!
Life, kids, is incredibly whack. It doesn't make sense. It doesn't offer any explanation or understanding. It doesn't stop going, either, so you can't just . . . pause. It's so ironic that my entry before the entry announcing Zach's death talks about imminent change, departure, and death. How right I was.
But don't worry for me. I'm strong. Everyone keeps telling me this, and it must be true, because I'm still capable of laughing, singing, playing, and loving, and i've been doing these things on a daily basis despite the tragedy. Plus, it's nothing I haven't already been prepared for or been through. And it helps that I was able to pinpoint my mistakes in mourning with Samantha's death. Be assured that I have been chattering non-stop about Zach to anyone who will let me. I feel kind of bad, like i'm being greedy, but it's been the most help. Plus, I haven't pulled into myself, yet. I worry that I might, but so far, so good. I've been surrounding myself with our friends and our family and often I find that brings me so much peace and normalcy.
Sometimes I feel trapped, though. Sometimes I feel like i just want to break free of all of this, burst out of my life and into someone else's, fly out the door and down the street on a bike, by foot, flying, whatever, as long as it's the fastest I can go. In fact..I dreamt about running through a school last night (just woke up from that dream), as fast as I could, with all of these people chasing me, not to punish me but because they wanted me to come back to them, and I just ran and ran and ran and turned sharp corners and sometimes almost got caught, but for the most part, had an incredible time being unstoppable.
Eventually I did stop and was "caught" but, i wanted to be by that point.
I've also had dreams of suddenly finding myself driving in dense fog and realizing I have NO idea where I am or where I'm going. So i fiddle with the headlights, and though both settings allow me to see a little further into the distance, I can't decide which one allows me to see the best.
Haha, it makes me laugh. I used to have metaphor dreams pretty regularly, but I haven't at least since Sam's death. When did my brain become so...clear on what I'm feeling?
And I guess that's the end of this post. I've run out of things to say. I've probably offended some of you, considering the appearance of the f-bomb. I guess I'm sorry for the affront, but I'm not sorry I said it.
Today, and for the rest of my life, I will live as Zach lived and would want me to live. Today I will enjoy every thing that I can. Today, if I play, I will play so hard that I will walk away with scrapes and bruises. Today I must carry on, not just for me, but for my best friend, Samantha, and for my beloved, Zachary. Today I am a woman of three lives.
Ow. I'd be lying if I said I feel happy right now. Last night was the first night I went to bed alone and woke up alone. I'm practically forced into sleep when i hit that pillow to avoid thoughts and forced out of bed the moment I realize it'll take effort to fall back asleep.
I'm back home with my parents for just the night to pick up the things I'd left when I returned to Charleston for Zach's funeral.
Did I really just say that? Zach's funeral?
I'm at a total loss. I don't know what to say. I have a hard time knowing how I feel. Here, let's try to define it: RIGHT NOW = I feel.. really really pissed off. I feel confused. I feel scared. I feel so so so heartbroken. I feel robbed. I feel exhausted. I feel like living stone.
Today is the 14th. It has been 11, count them, 11 days since Zach died.
I want to curse so badly, but this being public, I know how that would go.
but.. WHAT THE FUCK!?
I keep asking myself all kinds of questions. Like.."Who am I going to be?" "What happens to me now?" "Will I ever have someone like him again?"
And then I argue with myself immediately after, "You can't possibly know the answer to these things, so sit back and just live until they happen." I want to know where this logic came from.
That's why I'm so confused. I feel grief, I mourn sometimes, but then this strange, logical, practical something, not a voice, not an essence, but.. an emotion? feeling? takes over me and scolds me for spending time grieving. I'd like to blame Zach for that, but...
I don't know.
I just don't know ANYTHING. And I can't. And I never will. If life wanted to make sure I was aware that I am not omniscient, it sure as hell did a fabulous job of A) letting me know and B) rubbing it mercilessly in my face.
Zach was, is, will always be unlike anyone I've ever known. He was/is/will always be the most influential person in the shortest amount of time. He taught me to breathe and relax. He taught me to stop fretting the small things. He taught me that I'm in control of how life makes me feel. He taught me that I am wonderful and talented and worthwhile.
Goddddammmiiitttgoddddammmiiitttgodddaammmiiit (i'm sorry mama, but there is nothing else. One time i tried to find a word to replace an explicative, i thought really long and really hard, but the words i came up with just didn't add the same kick to my message).
I haven't cried about Zach for a little while until this morning. Not since Saturday, three days ago. I've been having a hard time, I guess, understanding the loss? No...I don't know, that doesn't seem right.
Alright STOP.
Start over. Here's what it is:
Zach's life was about life. It was about doing whatever he wanted to do so long as it made him happy. If anything prevented him from feeling the best, he said, "Later punks" and got the hell out of there. Zach's funeral/death was ALSO about life. About living the life that made you happiest and about enjoying all of it. About playing like you're still 7 years old and imagining you're a super hero.
Zach's life with me was nothing but love. Shameless, accepting, pure love. I could totally be myself and Zach could, too. We didn't judge. We were that stupid bible verse to the T. Love is patient, love is kind, love doesn't pass judgement, love is everything blah blah blah. That was us. Patient, kind, totally accepting, all encompassing, the reason I made it through everyday, even in my darkest hours.
I don't know what his friend's know about this, the love we shared. My friends, not just his, I guess. I don't know if they understood how much he meant to me and me to him. Once, when he was called away from me, he told me, "No one ever seems to understand the aweseomeness I'm missing all the time." And that's a quote to the T because I have a lonnnnnngggg text message history to be accessed on my phone.
And I know everyone is missing Zach. I see it in everyone's faces. Hear it in their voices. Notice it in the lost sparkle they all used to have.
But no one knows, understands, and maybe never will, the awesomeness that has been taken from us, me & zach. Our whole life changed in one sentence. I can't remember it word for word, but I believe it went something like "Zach died." Maybe an "Oh honey" was thrown in there first.
Getting sidetracked, this is the first time I'm blog working through my thoughts, so please excuse the just.. scatteredness.
Back on track:
Zach's life was just downright fun filled. So every time I start to feel myself slip into the grief of losing him, a grief I probably will never be able to face completely because that's a mighty large grief, I begin to think of his life and the lessons he taught me and the advice he'd give me for dealing with Samantha's death and being a downer in general.
Live, Juliana. Live and enjoy life. You only have one, and everyday is a gift. It's so cliche sounding, I know, but it's exactly what I have learned.
So I don't know. I don't think I'm avoiding grief, I just think it's being blocked by that lesson, that idea of spending as many moments happy as possible. I like to think Zach's doing this, helping me remember this, filling up my brain when I get down and removing bad feelings and replacing them with grateful ones.
But I don't know if I'm just deluding myself thinking that.
Plus, I find that I can't put those sad feelings on him. I can't explain that either other than he was just so happy all the time, it's difficult to feel sad whenever I think about him.
And I still feel him everywhere. With Samantha, I felt her LOSS everywhere. And when I'm hanging out with the whole gang, I have a hard time ignoring the lack of Zach's physical presence, but I feel him still. Something inside of me has changed. And I feel that maybe part of Zach's essence has embedded itself right into mine and that's why I feel like he's still hovering around.
WAH!
Life, kids, is incredibly whack. It doesn't make sense. It doesn't offer any explanation or understanding. It doesn't stop going, either, so you can't just . . . pause. It's so ironic that my entry before the entry announcing Zach's death talks about imminent change, departure, and death. How right I was.
But don't worry for me. I'm strong. Everyone keeps telling me this, and it must be true, because I'm still capable of laughing, singing, playing, and loving, and i've been doing these things on a daily basis despite the tragedy. Plus, it's nothing I haven't already been prepared for or been through. And it helps that I was able to pinpoint my mistakes in mourning with Samantha's death. Be assured that I have been chattering non-stop about Zach to anyone who will let me. I feel kind of bad, like i'm being greedy, but it's been the most help. Plus, I haven't pulled into myself, yet. I worry that I might, but so far, so good. I've been surrounding myself with our friends and our family and often I find that brings me so much peace and normalcy.
Sometimes I feel trapped, though. Sometimes I feel like i just want to break free of all of this, burst out of my life and into someone else's, fly out the door and down the street on a bike, by foot, flying, whatever, as long as it's the fastest I can go. In fact..I dreamt about running through a school last night (just woke up from that dream), as fast as I could, with all of these people chasing me, not to punish me but because they wanted me to come back to them, and I just ran and ran and ran and turned sharp corners and sometimes almost got caught, but for the most part, had an incredible time being unstoppable.
Eventually I did stop and was "caught" but, i wanted to be by that point.
I've also had dreams of suddenly finding myself driving in dense fog and realizing I have NO idea where I am or where I'm going. So i fiddle with the headlights, and though both settings allow me to see a little further into the distance, I can't decide which one allows me to see the best.
Haha, it makes me laugh. I used to have metaphor dreams pretty regularly, but I haven't at least since Sam's death. When did my brain become so...clear on what I'm feeling?
And I guess that's the end of this post. I've run out of things to say. I've probably offended some of you, considering the appearance of the f-bomb. I guess I'm sorry for the affront, but I'm not sorry I said it.
Today, and for the rest of my life, I will live as Zach lived and would want me to live. Today I will enjoy every thing that I can. Today, if I play, I will play so hard that I will walk away with scrapes and bruises. Today I must carry on, not just for me, but for my best friend, Samantha, and for my beloved, Zachary. Today I am a woman of three lives.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Post Fifteen: I am an open book.
I've decided to make my blog public, which really is just announcing it's existance to everyone on facebook. Saying that made me roll my eyes.
But I've decided that I'm tired of keeping my emotions a secret. It's hard for people to understand you and help you when you confide your most honest feelings to a secret blog and hide them from everyone. I wish I had let Zach read it, especially for the Valentines Day post. I know he knew how much he meant to me, because I never hesitated to tell him, but I would have liked to share that with him too.
I don't know that anyone will care to read this thing, though so far I've found two very eager to read readers.
I wonder if it will affect my honesty? I guess we'll see.
But I've decided that I'm tired of keeping my emotions a secret. It's hard for people to understand you and help you when you confide your most honest feelings to a secret blog and hide them from everyone. I wish I had let Zach read it, especially for the Valentines Day post. I know he knew how much he meant to me, because I never hesitated to tell him, but I would have liked to share that with him too.
I don't know that anyone will care to read this thing, though so far I've found two very eager to read readers.
I wonder if it will affect my honesty? I guess we'll see.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Post Fourteen: Death
I've lost Zachary. The love of my life.
I can't believe it's happened. Running in on the heels of Sam's death's anniversary and I lose my one and only.
I don't know how I'm going to make it through. During the day, i'm fine. But at night, my heart just.. hurts me constantly. And my stomach is queasy. And I just need him to scoop me up in his strong arms and hold me close to him and kiss my hair and tell me everything is going to be okay.
But that's not gonna happen. Life isn't always so sweet.
I can't believe it's happened. Running in on the heels of Sam's death's anniversary and I lose my one and only.
I don't know how I'm going to make it through. During the day, i'm fine. But at night, my heart just.. hurts me constantly. And my stomach is queasy. And I just need him to scoop me up in his strong arms and hold me close to him and kiss my hair and tell me everything is going to be okay.
But that's not gonna happen. Life isn't always so sweet.
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