A Year Harder

A year ago, I quit smoking.  It was harder than hell.  I struggled.  I craved.  I had meltdowns.  I was a bonafide lunatic, but then it got better, and now it's worse.  When I quit, I didn't have any extra stressful things going on in my life.  If I had anything close to what's been going on recently while I was trying to quit smoking, I never would have made it a day without sucking down a pack of nicotine.

The majority of people who know me, know that I was in a pretty bad car wreck when I was 18 that took the life of my best friend and nearly took mine.  What they don't know is that I never really dealt with it.  Who wants to deal with all that?  It was bad enough to have the physical injuries that I had no choice in dealing with.  I had to.  The emotion part I could hide.  I could push it away and not think about it.  Feelings would bubble up every once in awhile, but for the most part I had them crammed so far down in the depths of my soul, I thought I had successfully smothered them.

I was wrong.  So wrong.  Those feelings were just waiting for something to set them free.  I had a Pandora's box of shit waiting to break loose.  All it needed was a trigger and it got what it wanted when someone I love got in a car wreck that nearly took his life.  The moment the phone call came to inform me of the wreck, a tsunami of feelings were released and crashed into me.  They swirled in my head trying to find the words to describe them while I struggled to function and continue my life.  It was like my own little hell and I was trying desperately to keep it all hidden again so those who were around when I got in that wreck 13 years ago wouldn't have to go through it with me again, and those who weren't there wouldn't have to find out what I went through.  But, I'm not good at hiding things anymore so it was obvious I wasn't doing well, but I couldn't explain why.  Not in a way that made any sense and quite honestly, I didn't want to try.

I broke down last night.  It was my birthday and I didn't want it.  I was absolutely miserable and didn't want so much as a happy birthday greeting.  The few people I tried to explain this to didn't understand so I gave up.  I did my best to pretend that I was having a good birthday, but it didn't last long and by the end of the day, I was done.  I couldn't pretend anymore.  I pissed off my Mom and my daughter but I was mad at them too.  I locked myself in my room.  As the sun went down the sobs started.  I cried harder than I think I've ever cried.  I felt like something was reaching into my lungs and pulling out all the air.  I was gasping and coughing.  I got cold.  I felt paralyzed.  Then, the visions came.  The inside of my car after the impact.  The seats scrunched together.  I saw Jade's lifeless body, but she didn't have a face.  I felt the confusion of what had happened and the fear.  I flashed forward to being outside the car.  Laying in the dirt on my back.  Alone.  Dying.  Completely alone.  Waiting to be saved.  Alone.  So fucking alone and cold and bleeding out in the middle of nowhere.  Scared and unsafe.  Shaking.

The flashback ended.  I was back in my room, in my bed, safe under my covers.  The air returned to my lungs and I was exhausted.  I felt scared, but calm.

I could have gone next door to my Mom's, but I didn't want to.  I didn't want to talk.  I still don't.  Maybe I never will.  If I need help, I'll ask.  Until then, all I ask for is patience because I don't have any.  This isn't over, but I can tell that it's getting better.  I'm worn out and socializing is exhausting so  please don't take it wrong if I avoid social situations.  Don't tell me to get over it.  I will when I'm damn good and ready.  I'm a late bloomer when it comes to dealing with feelings.  Don't ask questions because I don't have answers.  I'll get through this though and I'll be stronger by the end.