I'm sitting here listening to a thunderstorm raging outside. Each time I see the Lightning flash outside my window, I wait for the loud thunder clap that's sure to follow. So loud that it rattles the photos on the wall in the tiny, shitty home that I live in, makes the lights blink. And there it was. As loud as it gets, the rain falls harder, making it sound like the roof will cave in at any moment. And I love it. I love a good, loud thunderstorm. Maybe because it emulates what goes on inside my head. If you follow me on Instagram or are my friend on Facebook, you've probably noticed that I've gotten quite a few tattoos in the past 3 months & one supposedly painful piercing. All this is, is a coping mechanism. A way to cope with the mental pain I feel everyday of my life. See, mental pain, to me is worse then physical pain. Physical pain can be eased with pain medication & a number of other ways. Mental pain, well that's a different story. I know what you're thinking, mental pain can be eased as well with antidepressants & anxiety medications. But if you've ever been clinically depressed- I'm not talking about a little sadness because life isn't going your way-you'll know what I mean. I'm talking about not having the will to go on because you feel like the world is caving in on you. You feel life you're suffocating & have to literally tell yourself to breathe, otherwise you'll stop. I'm talking about sitting around crying & unable to find joy in anything that you do. Things that used to matter no longer do. At some point in everyone's life, life will not be in your favor. But when everything you do is blindsided by the complete opposite of what you're trying to achieve, some people will be crushed by it & feel they can't go on. That's me. Except I HAVE to go on. There's no other option. So, I handle my mental pain in a very physical way. And until lately, I told myself I just love tattoos, I love this brilliant art form. That's why I keep doing this. But why lie to myself? If I can't tell the truth to anyone else, at least I can tell it to myself. I do it because I LOVE the pain!! There, I said it! I love the pain because for 30 minutes or an hour or however long it takes the artist to tattoo me, that's 30 minutes or an hour that I can escape from my horrible mental pain. It's another type of pain that I can focus on & release myself from my own head. Because, let me tell you, my head is not a great place to be these days!! This pain leads into my everyday life & my personal relationships. People I love are affected by my mental pain because the ONLY way I know how to ease it is to be evil. I'm just plain mean. And I hate it. That's not me. Not at all.
As I listen to this storm roll on, I realize that even a thunderstorm ends. The flashing lightning, loud thunder & torrential rain start to ease, I think to myself, "maybe my mental anguish will begin to taper off like this storm is doing." But as soon as you think the storm is over, it picks back up. The rain begins to fall harder & harder; the Lightning begins to flash so bright it lights up the room; the thunder rumbles so hard it literally Knicks the photos off of the wall. Just like my mental pain. I'll think it's tapering off, but here it comes, right back to torture me more. So what do I do? I find a cool new tattoo to go waste my fucking money on just to get release from my own head. I feel like there's another person inside my head screaming to the top of their lungs!! And for no other reason then to piss me the fuck off!! Somedays I'm fine but most days I'm FUCKED. And I cannot stand it anymore!! The pain I feel is unbearable. And it's been this way since Doug died. Not as bad as lately but since he passed away, part of myself is missing & I have no fucking idea how to get it back. Or if I even can get it back. If you've never found someone you love dead, you have no idea how I feel. And I'm not talking about watching someone die from cancer or some other disease. That's expected death. (Although I have seen this too & even if it's expected, it's still a shock). But when someone has consumed you for a solid year & you wake up to find them dead on your couch, it fucking changes you. It changes every single thing about you & you are no longer the person you were before. I thought I would come out on the other side a wiser person but the complete opposite happened. I no longer care. About anything. What's the point? Why love anyone because you're setting yourself up to get hurt. I could fall in love again tomorrow, marry him & still end up burying him someday. Doug was hard enough. It was harder because I fucking knew that was going to be his fate. I knew from the moment I met him that he wouldn't live to see 30 & I told him so everyday. That makes it worse. If only he'd listened to my begging & pleading every single day. I remember sleeping next to him one night & waking up & hearing a strange noise coming from him. I panicked, jumped up & checked to make sure he was breathing. That time I got lucky; we got lucky. But after I figured out he was alive, I sat on the couch, starring at him & cried. I cried because I thought 'this is what it would feel like if I woke up & found him dead'. Close call. No one knew what that was like. NO ONE. No one knew the struggle I went through with him everyday of our lives. Yet I got blamed for his death. Let me tell you fucktards something: IT WAS NOT MY FAULT THAT A 27 YEAR OLD MAN CHOSE TO DRINK HIS FUCKING LIFE AWAY!! Your begging & pleading yielded no results just as mine did so how in the fuck is it my fault?!?! God, jealousy, envy & GUILT can really do a number on a person, apparently! Jealous & envious that I was with him, that I know how he spent the last year of his life. Guilt- well I think we all know where the guilt lies. Guilty because YOU DONE ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO HELP HIM!! IN A YEAR NOT ONE PHONE CALL, TEXT MESSAGE, EMAIL. NOTHING!!! Instead, you sat TWO states away judging me & how I handled things. No one knew how he was if I told him no. And I DID tell him no!! Every fucking day!! But 'no' resulted in a tantrum fit- tearing my stuff up, knocking over tables, taking my keys, money & medicine. Once, after I hid his liquor, he took about 100 DVD's & threw them out in the rain. That is what happened if I told him no. So, fuck all of you who blame me & say I didn't try & help him because I fucking did!! I'd give my left & right ovary to have him back! I'd give ANYTHING to have him back!! So fuck all of you & your irrational, idiotic & just plain stupid ideas about mine & Doug's relationship. I'm so sorry to tell you but Doug was NO LONGER a 17 year old kid. I knew Doug, none of you knew him. Not anymore. Not the Doug he was when he died. As much as you wanted the 17-18 year old version back, he would've never been that way again; even if he had of stopped drinking. Addiction changes you, in every way! You're just too stupid or ignorant or both, to understand that!
Enough about that. Point is my mental pain is tearing away at me a little more everyday. I am broken. I am miserable. I am tired. And I'm running out of the will to live. So, I'm making a change. This pain I feel needs to move on. It's been 16 months since Doug passed away. I've lived without him for longer then I knew him. Why is this so fucking hard to do?! It's because he consumed me. Chewed me up & spit me out on his way out of this world & into the next. You know, I've been told that on the Other Side, we choose our lives with our Spirit Guides. That we choose every person we will ever meet, we choose our parents, our life paths, every heartbreaking event, we choose before we're ever born. I just cannot imagine that I chose this life for myself all so I could take life lessons over to the Other Side. And that Doug chose his life to live as a raging alcoholic & die at 27 years old & die on his fiancé's couch & have his fiancé & her young children find him dead. Very hard to believe!
Fuck you, 'Other Side Toni'....
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