Friday, November 18, 2005
Shortly after Liam died, I found that I had a hard time getting out of bed in the morning. That fall/winter was particularly hard.
It wasn't so much that I had lost a friend, at the time Liam died, he and I weren't particularly close. I'm not being cold just honest.
I was upset that someone I had known and was once close to decided that living was the greatest misery, maybe that's ascribing motives to actions and maybe that's wrong. Truly I have no idea why he chose to end his life, I really don't. I can only speculate, speculation drives you nuts.
I think what made getting out of bed hard was an accumulation of events. My dad's best friend died in our front yard in 1997.
I didn't know what to do. He had a heart attack. I remember my dad running into the house in a panic. He thought it was diabetic shock. He went through our cupboards in a panic looking for anything with sugar in it. I remember the sugar bin, my family had it since long before I was born, on the counter with the silver top off. Sugar strewn across the green countertop.
I went out the front door. I don't think I have ever seen my father so desperate. My father has always been the strong one in our family, always. He's the one that guides us through the hard times. He's the one who doesn't panic. He's the one who drives a station wagon through a hurricaine, he's the one who doesn't sweat anything. He was the one who was struggling to do something, to do anything on our front lawn, his best friend unconcious in the front seat of his car.
My dad asked me frantically if I knew CPR, I shook my head 'no'.
It's hard for me to write more, to think more about it because well I always wonder if there is anything different I could have done. Could I have been faster getting out the door? Could I have attempted artificial respiration? I know the answer is 'no', logically I know the answer is no, but I still wonder y'know? I will always wonder why something couldn't be done. I think that's when I realized that it's permanent.
Two summers later, I let down someone else. I'm pretty sure I mended fences and made up for what I perceive to be a lacklustre friendship performance, but it hurt me, it shamed me that I was less than an amazing friend to the best friend I have ever had. I like the idea of choosing your family. I love the family I ended up with, but sometimes I feel like I need to expand that family to include some people who have outgrown the term 'friend'. I hope that what has happened in the years since then has made up for the times I tripped up.
I think there's a point in your life when you stop believing that you're special and can accomplish anything. I think that happened when my grandmother died. She always told me I was special. I have no idea what she saw me, maybe she was senile, maybe she was just being polite, maybe I was could I hiding my tarnish from her, I really don't know, but I know that no one has instilled confidence in me like that woman did.
I have a photo of my grandmother. I keep it at my parent's house in a drawer. I don't look at it. I can't look at it. That's just the way it is. I'm not heartless, I just don't want to think about it. It would hurt too much.
You zip along in life thinking you're special and that life is your little movie and then you realize that it isn't and you're just like everyone else, mediocre. I mean I'm sure there's people who aren't mediocre, I'm sure they exist and they get things done because they have the right combination of skill, confidence, and ambition, but it's difficult to believe you're one of them. I'm sure that's a motive for people to have children, "I'm mediocre but maybe one of my seeds can be special."
In the fall of 2000, I didn't feel like I was just zipping along anymore, I didn't see much of a reason to get up before 2pm, so I didn't. I tried to talk to someone about it, but the counsellor at school was booked for months. I figured I would just figure things out on my own and solve it.
I try to laugh a lot and not think about things.
It wasn't so much that I had lost a friend, at the time Liam died, he and I weren't particularly close. I'm not being cold just honest.
I was upset that someone I had known and was once close to decided that living was the greatest misery, maybe that's ascribing motives to actions and maybe that's wrong. Truly I have no idea why he chose to end his life, I really don't. I can only speculate, speculation drives you nuts.
I think what made getting out of bed hard was an accumulation of events. My dad's best friend died in our front yard in 1997.
I didn't know what to do. He had a heart attack. I remember my dad running into the house in a panic. He thought it was diabetic shock. He went through our cupboards in a panic looking for anything with sugar in it. I remember the sugar bin, my family had it since long before I was born, on the counter with the silver top off. Sugar strewn across the green countertop.
I went out the front door. I don't think I have ever seen my father so desperate. My father has always been the strong one in our family, always. He's the one that guides us through the hard times. He's the one who doesn't panic. He's the one who drives a station wagon through a hurricaine, he's the one who doesn't sweat anything. He was the one who was struggling to do something, to do anything on our front lawn, his best friend unconcious in the front seat of his car.
My dad asked me frantically if I knew CPR, I shook my head 'no'.
It's hard for me to write more, to think more about it because well I always wonder if there is anything different I could have done. Could I have been faster getting out the door? Could I have attempted artificial respiration? I know the answer is 'no', logically I know the answer is no, but I still wonder y'know? I will always wonder why something couldn't be done. I think that's when I realized that it's permanent.
Two summers later, I let down someone else. I'm pretty sure I mended fences and made up for what I perceive to be a lacklustre friendship performance, but it hurt me, it shamed me that I was less than an amazing friend to the best friend I have ever had. I like the idea of choosing your family. I love the family I ended up with, but sometimes I feel like I need to expand that family to include some people who have outgrown the term 'friend'. I hope that what has happened in the years since then has made up for the times I tripped up.
I think there's a point in your life when you stop believing that you're special and can accomplish anything. I think that happened when my grandmother died. She always told me I was special. I have no idea what she saw me, maybe she was senile, maybe she was just being polite, maybe I was could I hiding my tarnish from her, I really don't know, but I know that no one has instilled confidence in me like that woman did.
I have a photo of my grandmother. I keep it at my parent's house in a drawer. I don't look at it. I can't look at it. That's just the way it is. I'm not heartless, I just don't want to think about it. It would hurt too much.
You zip along in life thinking you're special and that life is your little movie and then you realize that it isn't and you're just like everyone else, mediocre. I mean I'm sure there's people who aren't mediocre, I'm sure they exist and they get things done because they have the right combination of skill, confidence, and ambition, but it's difficult to believe you're one of them. I'm sure that's a motive for people to have children, "I'm mediocre but maybe one of my seeds can be special."
In the fall of 2000, I didn't feel like I was just zipping along anymore, I didn't see much of a reason to get up before 2pm, so I didn't. I tried to talk to someone about it, but the counsellor at school was booked for months. I figured I would just figure things out on my own and solve it.
I try to laugh a lot and not think about things.
