Spent the last few days doing a lot, a lot of thinking. Yes, being self-absorbed still…but I have to figure out what’s going on with me so I can stop being a jerk. I don’t know why I’m lashing out, being so impatient, so demanding, so immature…why I have so much anger boiling over.
I finally googled how PTSD affects friendships and relationships. Oph. There it was. “PTSD can cause problems with trust, closeness, communication, and problem solving.” I read on and on. A lot of stuff pertained to me, a lot of stuff didn’t. Either way, I don’t want to use PTSD as an excuse to be a jerk to anyone. That’s not fair. But it did help me understand why I can’t trust even the most benign people in my life. In my head, logically, I know these people are safe…but emotionally and psychologically, I can’t bring myself to trust them. And now it’s even worse. And my anger…God knows…I feel like I have anger from everything- my past, my present, my parents, my former friends…just everything and everyone. But I’m trying to learn here…I’m trying to become a better person…so I refuse to sit back and blame anyone. What’s done is done…my anger will fade. I just have to be mature about it and make sure I don’t hurt myself or anyone else in the mean time. I feel like God will heal me. I know He can….I just wonder sometimes. I wonder if it’s meant to be or not.
And I always wonder whether I’m meant to be. I surely don’t think so. I’m trying my best to shove those thoughts out of my head though.
I’ve thought a lot about Kyle. I found out his mom had called the police, saying he was in fact about to commit suicide, he was on drugs, and he was schizophrenic. I went back and reread some of his Facebook posts. I can’t make heads or tails out of them.
I thought of the person I knew so many years ago. He was kind and generous and had an affinity for the poor and for animals. My kind of person. His friends and I have decided we will remember him the way we knew him, as a kind, gentle soul.
I feel terrible for his family, for his mom…and it’s given me a renewed view of suicide from the other side. It’s been a long time since someone I know committed suicide. I had one really good friend and my uncle commit suicide. I thought of Agron and of my uncle. And I thought of all the death lately. I feel like I’ve been surrounded by it, drowning in it. The man who committed suicide in my building, Jason who died on the trail, my aunt and my cousin who died earlier this year from cancer. I still see Jason’s face all the time- both alive and dead. And I’ve been watching that empty apartment where my neighbor committed suicide. They kept it empty for quite a while and now it’s newly rented. I would stand outside while walking my dog and think of the guy, dying in there alone, with fentanyl patches all over. I feel for him. I understand. And yet I know I really can’t say I do.
I’m still so mad at God too. This has been a topic of conversation in my therapy sessions. Why would God allow child abuse? Why would he allow little children to be sexually abused? Why would he allow parents and grandparents to cover up abuse and protect the abuser? Why would he allow us…his people…to hurt so deeply? And for so long? Does he really love us? Really?? It’s difficult for me to reconcile a loving, fatherly God with one who allows such things. Why did God think I could handle a death on the trail? Why did he think I could handle staying with the body for half a day? Why did he think I could handle getting locked up? Why did he think that could help more than hurt?? Why did he make friends give up on me and jump ship? Why is he making me hurt so deeply?
I don’t know any of the answers to these questions. In my head…intellectually, I know God loves me. At least, I think I do. But in my heart, emotionally, it’s nearly impossible for me to believe.
I’m not tying to be a jerk and hold things against God… but I’ve got to wrestle with him over the state of things and his love. Because it doesn’t add up.
Wow…I thought I barely had anything to say for this post.
I wanted to write what I’m thankful for. Every day, all throughout the day, I’m trying to find things to be genuinely thankful for. A lot of what I’m finding now has to do with what I couldn’t experience when I was locked up.
So last night I spent a lot of time gazing up at the stars. I was looking at Saturn and Mercury and dreaming of how Mars still beckons me. God, I would love to go there. The night sky was so beautiful. I told God how his creativity never ceases to amaze me and how thankful I was for his incredible universe.
I’ve been enjoying the last little bit of fall leaves here. There are a few orange ones here that put me in awe. I went walking in the woods today and absorbed every sensation- the chilly air nipping at my nose and ears, the crunching of the leaves beneath my feet, the silence of the forest, and the deer scattering as I approached.
And yet my heart returns and hurts for Kyle. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for him. I’m sorry that I didn’t say something more or do something or reach out in some way. I had no idea he was even remotely contemplating suicide. I really should have known. I’ll carry this too.