Nighttimes have been difficult, I'm not going to lie. There are so many distractions during the day, people, work, music, sounds, etc etc that I don't have time to feel sad. But when clinic is over and I go home, that's when it's tough. Tough to be alone with my thoughts, the sound of my co-worker's voice echoing in my head: "He committed suicide" over and over and over again. Letting the news sink in, as if it was the first time I heard it. Replaying the scene of how it must have happened. How he must have felt as the big rig came hurddling towards him. Trying to understand the last few thoughts that ran through his mind moments before he passed away. I don't know what the actual scene looked like, but what I'm imagining looks pretty horrific.
My fiance keeps telling me I should not think about it anymore and try to focus on happy thoughts or watch something funny on TV before I go to sleep but I can't help it. It's so quiet in my apartment, just me, myself and I. Every little rattle, tick, or jingle startles me. The worse is when I try to turn off all the lights, laying in the dark, in the silence, just listening to my clock tick/tock as each second turns into mins, and mins turns into hours and I'm still wide awake. I would open my eyes wide every so often to make sure there isn't anyone or anything hovering over me while I slept. I know, creeepy.
My heart rate must have been off the charts. I would feel my heart racing out of my chest and the blood rushing to my head. I felt my ears burn with heat. I would have to calm myself down by doing deep breathing, focusing on my breathing. But it didn't help. The clock keeps ticking. There's a crack. Eyes wide open. What was that?? I don't know. The room is empty. No one is there. Or is there? I close my eyes tight, my heart beats out of my chest, I feel my ears burning up, the rest of my body gets warm too, I'm too afraid to push my comforter off of me. It's my only layer of protection from the unknown. From whatever I am afraid of. I can't even tell you what I'm afraid of, I'm just afraid. The clock keeps ticking. There's a rattle from the sink. What was that?? Just pipes? I don't know. My eyes would open, nothing, no one is there. Or is there?
This was seriously how I spent the entire night! It was terrible trying to battle the demons in my head. The terror of facing the cold, silent night with nothing but my taunting thoughts. Needless to say, I was pretty tired at work yesterday.
A few co-workers came by to check on me and make sure I was ok. I appreciated their kind words. I am haunted by this tragic event, but I'm not overwhelmed by saddness. I'm getting by ok. My students actually really helped me recover. They are both uplifting and supportive but not smoothering. They let me come to them, they didn't pry. They listened when I opened up but didn't tip toe around me or caudle me. I liked that. They even took me out for a stromboli after work. Their treat. It was really nice of them. I got to talk about it more and got more feelings off my chest. It was nice. The restaurant we went to was around John's house. We had actually eaten at that same stromboli place before and sat at the same bench that we sat at last night. I have to say, it was hard to relive those memories as they flashed past my mind. Driving down the same freeway, driving by his house, sitting where we sat many months ago and eating the foods that we once shared together.
I'm really glad my students were there. They really did help ease the pain.
In a desperate attempt to get some sleep, I asked them if they could stay with me last night at my apartment. One of them came, the other one said it would be too difficult to bring over all his supplies to get ready in the morning, since he's more high maintenance. It was nice to have him in my apartment. It really made a huge difference. He came over pretty late, 11:30pm. I wasn't asleep yet, I can't sleep. We chatted for a while, until 1am. And we finally went to sleep. He slept in another room on the couch and I slept where I normally did, the futon in the livingroom.
It was so much easier sleeping with him there. But I was still a little afraid. I would hear noises, which would have freightened me beyond belief, but with him there, I was a little more brave. I was able to fall asleep and I woke up more well rested this morning. I woke him up and made him some breakfast. It was nothing fancy, just reheated up things my parents made. We got ready together and went to work.
I wonder how much longer I have to live like this. I fear asking him to spend the night again. But I really do think it helps with him over. Maybe he can just stay for the rest of this week?
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