faith

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Published October 9, 2017 by Chloe Madison

I constantly see him. My mind goes back and forth between him alive- smiling, laughing, joking, talking, taking pictures…to him in death- his eye bulging out, his blood pumping onto the ground around his head, his face, mouth, teeth, his tongue lolled back.

I’d much rather see the image of him alive, but I have no control over what comes. Both make me sad. His eye and tongue and mouth- his whole face haunts me. 

Hours and hours sitting with him…  Half the day consumed. I got up the next day and saw that I’d gotten mud all in my bed. I had never changed clothes…I was still covered in mud from being on the ground with him. I don’t remember driving home and I don’t remember going to bed. The next afternoon, I posted pictures of the scenery as if nothing had happened. I never told anyone. What’s wrong with me?? That I would post pictures and not say a word about the life lost? I question my sanity, my selfishness…I wasn’t trying to ignore his death- I just didn’t think it was fit for public posting. Obviously. 

My heart, my soul, even my body feels so heavy with all that is happening. I’m so deeply saddened by his loss and the loss felt by his family…by the tragedy in Vegas and all the people hurt by the maddening violence…by my precious little companion getting more and more sick…by this **** that I wrote, fearing that people will be angry with me and not understanding…by my own tragedy and that of my bloodline that I can’t seem to overcome.

 

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Yesterday, my heart felt so destroyed. I couldn’t believe how bad I was feeling. I was utterly devastated. It could have been compounded by the fact that the night before was sleepless. For not having slept, I thought I felt ok. But emotionally, I was absolutely destroyed. I broke down crying while walking across a parking lot. I stopped and sat on a boulder and asked God how I could carry on if I felt so wrecked. I was SO CLOSE to doing something to permanently end it all. It was the first time that I didn’t plan anything ahead of time. It was simply being overwhelmed by sadness that made me decide there was no end and no way out. As I sat on the boulder crying and thinking of the ways I could end it- I thought…of a chocolate shake. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I thought maybe a good chocolate shake could make me feel better, could maybe distract me for a time until my mind left that place. So I went and got an extra chocolately shake and devoured it. I did not feel better. But then, a friend started texting. I got consumed in the conversation and before I knew it, hours had passed, it was nighttime, and I hadn’t done anything negative. Not only that, but I realized later on that yesterday was the first day in months that I hadn’t self-medicated. 

What was a terribly devastating day…hours of feeling deeply sad…that brought me lower than I could have imagined…turned into distraction by a chocolate shake…and then distraction by the conversation with my friend. If that chocolate shake didn’t happen…if my friend never texted…I’m afraid I wouldn’t be writing these words here now. 

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I don’t know where God is.

Published October 2, 2017 by Chloe Madison

The only piece of good news is that I heard from Brian. I sent him the pictures and he said “it has helped a lot knowing there are so many good people here with me.” We live in the same city so I offered to meet up with him or talk with him any time he needs. I’ll check back frequently to make sure he’s ok. 

Vegas. I can’t even begin to imagine how tragic that has been for everyone– victims, families, survivors, first responders. I’m so angry that one person chose to destroy so many lives. I’m in awe of the stories of real heroes that have emerged of the many people that threw themselves on top of others to protect them. God bless them all. 

Today found out more about the suicide in my building. I didn’t know the man- had actually never seen him. He used a bunch of fentanyl patches. I’d never thought about that before. Looks especially potent when mixed with alcohol. That would be too easy.

 

I can’t stop seeing Jason’s face. I’ve stared at him in my pictures and in his photos from Facebook. He looks so alive and intelligent and sprightly. I keep thinking about how he looked all those hours that I was with him, lifeless, on the mountain.

I don’t know where God is in all of this.

I have this urgent and overwhelming need to escape. Like I need to walk away from everything…

It should have been me. 

Published September 5, 2017 by Chloe Madison

I just had a fantastic weekend traveling, hiking, camping, and most importantly, enjoying God’s absolutely beautiful and spectacular creation. 

I tried to listen to God and kept hearing two things in particular. Love and identity. His love for me. I’ve been getting this message for a while now and I wonder why I’m still getting it. Maybe I’m not getting it? Maybe I still need to hear it. 

And then, identity. I am His. I am in His family, I am His child, His daughter. This is one that I know I struggle with. I know it, I accept it…I don’t know that I’ve fully absorbed it or internalized it. 

Then, I come home to chatter around my apartment complex about a suicide over the weekend and the heavy police presence. I immediately think “it should have been me.” I thought that about 12 times in 5 minutes. It should have been me. 

I’m flooded with a mix of emotions. I’m so sad for the person. I wonder if I saw them- like truly saw them…in their misery, in their sadness. Did I really see them? I can say that I’ve been wrapped up in my own world, purposely not even making eye contact with people. So maybe I never saw this person. And that’s my fault.

I remember years ago, before I wanted desperately to die, meeting a lady in the dog park whose teenager was suicidal. I talked with her for many hours, many times. Once I spotted the same dog with a teenager and knew it had to be her. I purposely went up to this girl, was friendly, and as positive as I could be- given the fact that I was a stranger to her. I never saw her again. They moved to be closer to the girl’s dad. 

I wonder about this person who committed suicide…who they were, what they were struggling with, for how long? 

And I’m so ashamed to admit this…but part of me is jealous. They had the courage to go through with it. I have not. Some might call it other names besides courage. I see it as they did something that I want and wish I could do. I am sad for them though. I wished they had people to listen to them, people who could hear them out when they were sad, friends who would be there for them. Y’know, friends don’t even need to say a word- just be there. I wonder if this person ever reached out- but I surely don’t condone them if they didn’t. I understand that with depression, all you want to do is withdraw. Withdrawing is so much easier…on everyone. 

And now…now I’m crying for this person. I feel so, so bad. I wish I could have done something. Said something. Cared for them in some way- no matter how trite it might have seemed. If only I had seen them. Or known them. I just prayed for their soul and will continue to. 

I wonder about this weekend now. I left the state because I had plans too. Plans I was trying to avoid carrying out. I went far away with no means- no firearm, no pills (except for sleeping pills), no alcohol, no nothing. I even had my little pup with me so I’m forced to think about his well-being (and be less inclined to do something detrimental). 

But what if I was here this past weekend? I wonder how differently and how much more profoundly this would have affected me if I was in the middle of all the chaos and confusion? Was God protecting me by having me leave?

And now I feel guilty. I feel terrible for having such a great weekend, for actually being happy for once…when someone else was suffering so terribly and lived so close by. I really do wish it was me. It really should have been me. Not them. 😓 

I’m two drinks in and I feel terrible. I want to turn to God, to talk to him about this. But for some reason, my inclination is to hide . I don’t know why… but I don’t want to face home. Not now . 

Rant

Published August 4, 2017 by Chloe Madison

Rant coming. Go away if you don’t feel like listening to someone whine and bitch and complain. Seriously. Go. TF. Away. Cause I need to do this.

I am so, so angry and so incredibly hurt. I don’t know how to handle it. I’m sick of people who don’t have not one f**king hour to stop and take the time. I really hate this. 

I don’t even like this place anymore. The allure is gone. I guess it’s because when I’m here, every thing I see, every place reminds me of being alone. The word “desolate” comes to mind over and over again. It’s like a barren desert for my heart and my soul. There’s nothing here. 

So as I was just in two different places these last few weeks, I thought about moving there. But I realized that wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t make me happy. Nothing will. 

I fantasized about quitting my job, taking what little I have in an IRA, and disappearing. I thought maybe I could leave the country- maybe go live on a cheap island somewhere. My IRA money would probably only last a year. But maybe I could try to be happy and escape stress for just one year. 

But it wouldn’t work, would it? I’d be partially content exploring a new location for maybe a week- tops. Then, the same loneliness, the same sadness, the same depression, isolation, confusion, being unwanted, worthlessness…all that would still be there. So I guess there’s no point in trying. 

I just drove 30+ hours without a sound. I didn’t listen to anything….I just thought and thought and thought. It was so quiet in my car…and yet, inside I was raging. It reminded me of this movie I just saw where this little child who is adopted rages uncontrollably. I saw myself sitting there in defeaning silence and yet, seeing the inside of me, which was nothing but chaos. 

The movie I saw was “Lion.” I watched it twice. It’s was incredibly compelling. The flashbacks of the main character were represented so well- how we’re in the present moment, but relive a past moment, and then are left in the present as if we were still in the past. I’m sure that doesn’t make sense. But the character I identified most with was not the main character- it was his adopted brother. When the family adopted his brother, the little boy raged- he screamed, yelled, cried. That’s EXACTLY how I see myself. Raging uncontrollably…inside. 

I just told someone how I wanted to slip overboard in the dead of night. There were three different nights- the last one was so close. The air and water temperatures had chilled considerably and I thought hypothermia was a viable possibility for a timely expiration. I was only stopped because someone accidentally walked up on it. Then I told them how I stayed in my car overnight in the middle of nowhere and how I was awoken by tornado sirens at 5 something in the morning. I saw all the semi trucks start up and scatter and I wondered how they knew which way to go to escape a tornado. They all quickly disappeared in the torrential downpour. I decided to lay back down and I told God to take me. I listened to tornado sirens for a solid 20 minutes. Hard rain. Lots of wind. Nothing else. The person I told laughed- I guess they thought I was joking. 😳

I feel like I had just started to trust human beings again. We’re truly horrible, terrible creatures, if you think about it. Only humans are capable of the most insane atrocities that could ever be imagined. But my trust is gone. People use words to appease. But I’m not stupid enough to believe it anymore. 

I think…I don’t know. I mean, I know we’re “created” for community. And that explains a human being’s longing for connection and interaction with other humans. And not surprisingly, that’s the core cause of addiction- the need for people to connect with something. Addicts didn’t have healthy relationships, healthy connections- but the desire was so deep, so desperate to connect- that they chose to connect with anything they could.

I’ve not connnected for years (minus the connecting I had just started to do)…and even though the loneliness was killing me, at least I never got hurt. People hurt. People disappoint. People say one thing, then do another that’s entirely contradicting. People simply can’t be trusted. And I’m ok with that. That’s why I don’t trust. It’s a simple concept- you start to trust, you get hurt. I know people aren’t perfect. I’m not expecting them to be. But, damn. 

I don’t want to feel this anymore. The only way to ensure I don’t feel this again is to simply not trust. It’s easy. Maybe too easy. And I know…not the “healthiest” choice. But whatever. I have NOT A SOUL to fall back on. I’m not married, no children, very very few family members still alive. I’ve got no one. So when I’m hurt, I’m left with nothing but myself and God. 

And lately, he’s not talking to me. I’ve asked him why he let that happen, why he couldn’t just fix things…

And I get nothing. 

Silence.

Now…that’s not new for God and I. I know he’s there. I feel like he doesn’t like talking with me that much. And he surely doesn’t like appeasing me. 

So here I am. 

Nothing but broken bits. So smashed that the pieces will never be whole again. 

DNR

Published July 30, 2017 by Chloe Madison

Completely devastated….   The real truth hurts. And it’s hitting me really, really hard.  😖 Words so empty and hollow that only now am I feeling the painful echo.

My head and my heart are writhing as this reality sinks in. I feel so defeated.

Utterly and hopelessly alone.

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I don’t understand how people are expected to make a comeback after things like this. “Things” are all these experiences in life of abuse/ rape. I just don’t know how people do it. It seems impossible to me.

I don’t want to go home. There’s no such place as “home.” 

I don’t want to face another birthday alone. Is that all there is to life? Every meal alone. Day after day alone. Weeks, months, years. I’ve been alone now for eight years. 

EIGHT.  

YEARS. 

You can’t act like there’s hope just around the corner or hope in God. It NEVER f*cking comes. Everything just continues to deteriorate. This hopelessness is not life. I refuse to do this.