Wake up. Open my eyes. Breathe. Is this reality? Yes. Are you for certain? No. Do I have to get up and live today? Yes. Are you for certain? No.
My routine of morning thoughts that are in my mind the moment I wake now.
These last few weeks have seemed like a blur. I literally felt like I was going through the motions just to survive. My mind has been elsewhere, and I’ve been struggling to get it back.
I can’t seem to shake this sadness, this aching inside of me. I feel like I’m walking in this bubble. A big, dark, black bubble that camouflages me from the world.
My life isn’t my life anymore. It’s become something I don’t recognize, and it’s because you’re not in it anymore. I lived my whole entire life with you as a part of me, and I’ve completely lost the person I used to be. You framed me into the person I used to be, the old me.
Pain. Shooting pain. Pain that radiates up and down my leg. I panic. Is it a blood clot? More pain. Am I going to die? I don’t know. Why do I always have this leg pain? It’s hard to breathe. My heart starts to palpitate. Oh gosh I’m going to die. I am. This is it.
Why is this happening to me? Why? I can’t think. My chest starts to hurt. I don’t want to die alone. Sharp pain takes over my chest. I can’t die alone. My brother did, and he wasn’t scared. What happens when you die? I don’t want to die.
This is my struggle. Every single day of my life I live in this constant cycle of irrationality. I can never talk myself out of it. If I’m driving I have to pull over and stop. If I’m at work I have to run to the bathroom. If I’m home I go outside for a walk. It takes at least 10 minutes for me to allow my brain to come back.
It seems psychotic to the normal human being. Thinking a simple pain in the chest or leg is going to be the death of you. I’m not a normal human being. My mind is engulfed in this awful place and no matter how hard I try to dig my way out, I always end up back in the same place.
My therapist and I have talked about this. It was hard to tell her this is how I felt every day of my life. You were only 20 when you died Austin. I have developed a fear of dying after I lost you. Why? Maybe because you were too young. You had your whole life ahead of you. You were so smart, so kind and such an remarkable person. You made a choice. Your death lives inside my body, my soul, my mind.
I live in a constant fear of something tragic is going to happen to me, something totally out of my control. Like a blood clot, heart attack, aneurism, etc. You had control of your life and your death. I don’t have control over mine.
Everyone tells me that these pains are because of my anxiety. That is my body’s way of showing it. I try to believe everyone. I try to turn away my irrational thoughts and behaviors, but I never can.
You never understood what leaving this world would due to us. After you left I developed this panic disorder; this extreme, constant fear of dying. Everyday is a battle back and forth between my mind and body.
It’s so hard to live this way. It has never seemed to ever get easier, Austin. Maybe one day I will be able to breathe again. Maybe.
So It Goes.