There are no words to describe... how often do I say that? Perhaps my vocabulary is too limited, or maybe I conceive emotions as infinitely surpassing the translation of thought to words. Either way, I always feel unable to express these thoughts of mine. That's why my blogs are so long.
So, what went wrong?
I've been actually happy for weeks now. It's been the most wonderful experience. You forget what real happiness is when you've lived in the dark recesses of your own mind for too long. But to just feel light and happy again has been so freeing. Like a holiday from life.
So why did I wake up this morning in a state of pure dejection and misery?
Admittedly, the coughing fits that kept me awake most of the night were pretty bad and probably didn't help; or the fact that everything in my house felt creepy when I got home after the party... but I started to go down at the party if I'm honest.
The party was awesome - for such a small gathering and such an impromptu giggle - don't get me wrong! The people there were some of the people I would happily spend the rest of my life with...
We had a laugh, and everything seemed great - even after admitting something INCREDIBLY embarrassing during ring of fire... which I hope will never be repeated outside of that room!! (which I've only just realised I never said at the time... oh dear)
There was drinking-chat-roulette... there was music... there was so much conversation... there was a midnight trek for more alcohol...
all the best elements you could ask for really! I even started making proper friends with Kev (who my bestmate really likes)
so why did the cloud come back to hang over my head half way through the night??
Maybe I just ran out of time? There was a limit to time I was allowed to feel amazing, and I wasted on just having fun with my friends - believing it would last forever.
To be fair, I've been forgetting lately that this can't last forever. This here, where we have so little responsibility, so little duty, so many friends, so many opportunities... we are so lucky to have this, and I've lost two whole years of it through being stuck in a little box labeled "Lauren" in my head. In that box was a bunch of pain, and memories that prick you constantly... because of that self-made box I totally missed out on life. I guess that's why I want this to last forever now.
I have a friend who's closer to me than a lover, a circle of friends bigger than I've ever known, a gigantic room all of my own, I have health and happiness... is it any wonder I want it to always be like this?
The pains and trials of life are so simple and small at the minute. I know my friends are going through their own problems, but they aren't HUGE problems that wont go away no matter what. I know one of my closest friends is still struggling with the same pain I've had (only amplified), but together we can get through it. We'll help each other through that loss. I'll help her in any way I can.
Anyway, moving away from the random ramblings (I'm still only half awake after such a bad nights sleep, please forgive me).
Russell has been all philosophical lately - which I have to admit I've missed so much - and some of the things that have come have made me think...
There's this silly comment that I made last night that is stuck in my head though. We were discussing (of all things) Google. Russell was complaining to Dave that the auto search they've introduced - where it searches as soon as you start typing - is annoying and should be opt-in not opt-out. The comment circling my head is "Yeah, well, life is opt-out, not opt-in"
I can't believe that sort of comment popped out of my mouth.
I suppose it went overlooked in that context. No-one really batted an eyelid, the argument continued. There are several people though that if I said that around it would kill all conversation out-right.
Suicide is one of those things that if you haven't experienced through the loss of a friend/family member or wanting to do it yourself, it's easy to talk about. You have your views on it, but they're not personal in any emotional way really.
When you have lost someone however - or if you constantly think about it as the only path before you - suicide is the most difficult thing to talk about.
Thing is, I'm sick of hiding from it now. Yes - it hurts like hell. Yes - I can't bare to think about it without wanting to cry for the people I've lost. Yes - when it's brought up I have flashbacks of what I've been told or imagined myself. But screw it!
I'm tired of hiding from the pain. It still hurts if you do that.
So, let me tell you about my experience with this subject.
I suppose it starts with getting depression myself at the age of (I'd guess) about 13. Having a high IQ and no friends just led to it I suppose. I finally had it diagnosed when I was 17. By then I'd already been day-dreaming of ending it for so long I kinda assumed it was normal. Came close a couple of times.
Thing is, I always pulled myself away from the actual action. I'm pretty sure I'm not the sort to 'attempt' suicide - if you catch my drift.
I always kicked myself for that though; because I'd seen the pain. I'd seen it there in her from the start... I'd just never got close enough to try and help. Stupid, I know, to kick yourself for not being the one to save someone. Big headed too. But hey, that's how I honestly felt.
Her funeral was insanely attended. Everyone from our form went. Most people from our year did actually. And from her new school. Everyone who had ever known her really... we all turned up. Three or four lines of people stood outside in the freezing cold when the church was too full. We stood and listened to the farewell service as best we could. When her coffin came past us, we all cried. Well - I say we all cried. I didn't. I welled up. I remember thinking "Oh god - how can they put her in the earth!?"... but then a breeze caught my attention and I realised it was just her body in there. What made Georgina her was that smile, those eyes that were so hidden and expressive, the way she ran, jumped, laughed... none of that was in the wooden box passing me.
I held a private circle for her while I stood there, saying goodbye in my own way.
Enter upon the scene Luke.
Luke was my world for about 2 years. He was there for me when things fell apart... but I knew from early on that he had depression too... I thought it'd get better instead of worse though. Besides, now me and my sister had similar partners and I felt closer to her (and my brother-in-law) for it.
Ah, Veesham. He's where it all culminates really.
My brother in law... he always suffered from depression. We knew that. We accepted it. We made allowances for it. Sometimes he wouldn't come to family gatherings, or want to talk on the phone, or want to see anyone. We knew he didn't love us any less, he just couldn't interact like that...
Just before I started Uni, he lost his mum. At the funeral he learnt things that... well, that broke him in ways I can't explain. He lost his mind in a way. He would have nightmares... he was terrified that he would be what he had always wanted to be - what he had just found out was not as wonderful as he had imagined - what he could never forgive, especially now he was gone - his Father.
For months he was under the watch of the crisis team. My nieces were so worried at times. My sister... how the hell she coped I'll never know. Though, the things you do for the one you love are infinite and unexplainable. He took to his bed and just... stopped coming out of it eventually. He wouldn't talk to the crisis team, though they'd come every day.
My sister (Rachel) told me that sometimes she would come home to find a job half done. He would have got half way through and be so fixated on how an implement he was using could end his life that he would put everything down and just go to bed.
Once she found him in bed - he'd made a noose but couldn't find anywhere to put it.
I moved off to uni before all this got so bad. I came home one weekend and went round to see Rachel. V was in bed. I remember hesitating before leaving - to go and say goodbye, give him a hug, tell him I'd see him soon; or not? - but I just hugged Rachel and told her to give him my love.
Two weeks later my mum and dad arrived at my flat with Luke. I nearly collapsed when Mum got hold of me and told me he was dead. He'd found a place for that noose after all.
I'll never forget standing up at his funeral (so empty... so few people there in comparison to George's) and reading the poem I'd written for him (the poem I'd had to write for my creative writing project while I was home) knowing no-one would appreciate that it was written in the loose form of an elegy... standing next to his coffin and wanting to reach over and touch it. Barely making it through the poem as the tears welled up. Looking over at his coffin as I ended on "I love you brother, and I miss you. We all do."
My dad jumping out of his seat in the front row to hug me, crying himself.
Sitting in my seat at the end and just letting the tears fall till I was pulled out of the chair by Luke. Watching the smoke rise as they burnt him and not being able to stop crying.
Months later my depression was matched only by Luke's. Every moment was spent either thinking about how to end it all, or trying to stop myself thinking about V, or trying to stop myself thinking about death. As I started to pull out of it, Luke's worsened. He told me of nightmarish visions he had of himself being... I can't even detail it. Sorry. Just take my word for it that it was unpleasant and disturbing...
I barely handled it then. But when he still couldn't pull out of that despair I ran. I admit that I was a coward. I couldn't handle his pain, I couldn't handle the thought of loosing another person in the slow way Rachel had. I ran.
At uni I found Kaylesh (my flat mate) had been cut the the quick by the story himself. He had found his father the same way a year before, had to cut him down and call the ambulance. Had to bear the scrutiny of the world as they gave their sympathy while taking the gossip of his loss.
Back home Jessi opened up to my sister. She had never spoken about it before. Her own sister had locked herself in her bedroom on valentines day and burnt herself to death.
This year I find a friend who lost her sister years ago to the same selfish temptations.
It's as though being a suicide-survivor (the actual name for people who've lost a close friend/relative to suicide) brings you others.
I suppose the reason I get so frustrated at my own depression is because I know, I know, how hard it is for other people to deal with. How hard it must be for my family when I get that low, scared of loosing another loved-one. I know how hard I found it dealing with Luke's depression. I know how little time I have for Kaydie's.
That's why I admire my friend Dan so much. To be able to continue to deal with a loved one being depressed, and not let it break you down, is truly admirable. His strength makes me want to be better.
So that's why I'm gonna take today to drink hot chocolate, and think about the sad stuff, and let it wash over me for a while - then put it to bed tonight. Tomorrow I'll let go of the pain again, and get on with living life.
No one we loose would ever want us to be miserable. To regret our memories of them. They wouldn't want us to shy away from their memory. They'd want us to rejoice in our similarities, want us to celebrate our own survival and be proud of being able to give a continued support and source of happiness to the people they had to leave behind.
We're bound to miss them, but we shouldn't mourn them forever.
Our present can't be spent with them, nor can our future, but our past was. That matters. Don't cling to the past, let it stay there, and try to accept that things change. We loose people in many ways... it hurts more when you know you'll never have the chance to make new memories with that person... but that doesn't mean the memories we have of them should hurt.
Remember, you love and are loved so much.
Blessed Be xx
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