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Magical World

Wouldn't it be lovely if, with just a twitch of the nose, life, or any aspect of it could be changed. Instead, positive changes always seem to involve tremendously hard work, determination, and endless setbacks. How lovely it would be to have the powers of Samantha Stephens.

Monday, September 11, 2006

Just Thinking

When I was in seventh grade I met an angel. She was in high school. She was a Senior. Her name was K. I saw her often because she and I were both in the high school orchestra, even though I was only a Junior High peon. Everyone loved K--and she loved them back. I don't believe there was a speck of malice in her. She was the most amazing person, and when I was with her, I felt that I was better because she was with me. Some Senior's would ignore a twelve-year-old. K went out of her way to come talk to me whenever she saw me. Her voice was gentle, and I loved to hear her laugh. I remember the first time she smiled at me. She was sweet, absolutely kind, funny, and the most beautiful person I had ever met. I chose her as my role model.

I remember after she graduated, hearing small stories about K. She was struggling. She was sad. She had a mental disorder. She had to come home from college because of the stress. The stories continued over the next few years. When I was a Junior, K took her own life. My role model was schizophrenic and also suffered from multiple personality disorder. One day, left unattended at home, she took a butcher knife and slit her own throat.

I went to her funeral. I wept through the entire meeting. I don't remember anything that was said, any songs, any heartfelt prayers. I just sobbed, remembering my sweet friend, her gentle ways, her beautiful smile. I had always been taught that suicide was evil--that those who took their own lives were selfish and would forfeit any heavenly reward in store for them. As I cried, there was one thing of which I was certain: My angel friend was not selfish. She was not evil. She deserved more of a reward than I will ever earn in my lifetime. She was sad, tortured, and, in her own way, suffering a self-abuse that no one can understand. And at the same time, I missed her with all my heart.

A friend, chatting online with me, observed a couple of days ago, that my eating disorder did not profile that of a typical anorexic. He mentioned that it seemed to be "different... like you're trying to commit suicide, not that you're struggling for an ideal." When he said that, my stomach lurched, I felt helpless tears beginning. I continued to rationally discuss that which was making me feel hopelessly out of control. I sobbed behind my computer screen while I typed reasonable, calm responses. I thought of my friend, and wondered, am I her?

The strange thing is, I don't feel depressed--just helpless. I've never been presented with a problem I could neither solve, nor cope with in some way--till now. The reality is that I really don't want to die. I just cannot understand what is happening to me. I realized that I felt those same feelings when my cousin would visit me at night. I absolutely did not understand what he was doing, I had no idea how to react or cope with the situation, I did not know how to proceed. I haven't felt that way for many years. Now, once again I find myself helplessly confronting those feelings--but this time I'm an adult. I should know what to do! But for whatever reason, I don't.

There is a nagging, horrifying fear inside me that I'm going to fail. That even though I'm trying so hard to get to the bottom of my problem, it will eat me alive before I can conquer it. That fear is tangible and paralyzing. I shudder as I try to confront it. I'm exhausted as I try to control it. And as this happens the realization hits me that as fatigue sets in, my resolve weakens. I just feel so very tired. Then the desire to just be finished--to give in--is overwhelming. I immerse myself in work, in new projects, in my children, in my callings, in pathetic pleas to my God for some small deliverance.

My daughter is now the same age I was when my nightmare began. She is slender and beautiful--eleven years old, and 65 tiny pounds--as I was at the same age. I look at her and am suffused with agony. I want to protect her, while at the same time I am consumed with envy at her innocence. I love her with all my heart, but a part of that heart wishes that I was her. That I could look at my life one more time, unmarred with ugly realities I had no business knowing. That I could have the luxury of romantic childish fantasies, unmarred by fear and pain. I'm ashamed that I want this--that I want to run from my past and into her present. But I do want it. Someday, I just want to be free.

6 Comments:

  • At Monday, September 11, 2006 11:49:00 PM, Blogger The Ugly Swan said…

    I think that, as long as you continue to choose life, you're not your friend.

    It takes great courage to choose life. I'm slowly learning that you are a courageous person.

     
  • At Tuesday, September 12, 2006 12:17:00 AM, Blogger Loyalist (with defects) said…

    I wish words were adequate to express feelings or that I had magic formula for you. I am sure Darrin thinks the same way.

    My wife suffers from Clinical Depression and she often speaks of suicide as a comfort. It scares me, because I don't know how to help or what to say or do.

    I do know that you still have much to share with your family and with your friends (and us "weirdos" on the internet).

    My wife uses medication to help regulate her moods and anxiety - I know they help her. It is nothing to be ashamed of if they are needed - contrary to our celebraty friend Tom Cruise might say.

     
  • At Tuesday, September 12, 2006 7:35:00 AM, Blogger -L- said…

    It's really quite frustrating being as stupid as I am. A close family member of mine shot himself in the head recently. His suicide was unsuccessful and several reconstructive surgeries later, he is still with us and doing much better.

    I know you are not suicidal per se, but whatever the cause and nature of your feelings, I know that such thoughts can't just be willed away. Like, Ugly, I admire your courage. I also admire your good sense in tapping into every conceivable resource to help you deal. However far you still feel you have to go in healing, I imagine it's much less than if you weren't so well adjusted in accepting therapy, medications, advice from family and friends...

    In short, you rock QOQ!

     
  • At Tuesday, September 12, 2006 6:01:00 PM, Blogger Th. said…

    .

    I wonder where
    exaclty
    the line lies
    between freedom
    and failure.

     
  • At Wednesday, September 13, 2006 11:24:00 AM, Blogger Samantha said…

    Thanks, Ugly. Sometimes I need to hear that.

    Loyalist: I'm still trying. I don't plan to leave anytime soon--being able to express that sometimes I WISH to leave, helps me realize how much I really want to stay.

    -L-: I don't know why you say you're stupid. If you were, I'd never waste time talking to you--I have a problem with stupid people, in case you hadn't noticed from the comment section of your own blog. But my chats with you are extremely helpful, as I sift through all the yuck I seem to encounter. By the way, how do you pronounce "QOQ"?

    th.: Sometimes I wonder that same thing--but not for very long. It scares me.

     
  • At Thursday, September 14, 2006 2:42:00 PM, Blogger FoxyJ said…

    If you went to the high school I think you did, then I'm pretty sure that I know who K is. Could you email me sometime?

     

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