The Unbelievable Actually Happens 1

So, I’ve taken some time to sleep since everything happened…I got about 6 hours of sleep yesterday and then I got about 8 hours last night. That doesn’t make up for all that was lost, but I guess it’ll help get me through the next few days.

I was supposed to begin my lessons on driving today, but because of my ankle, I am not going to be able to go through with them until it gets better. Speaking of the ankle, I’m getting it checked out this afternoon, along with my knee (which was also hurt in the fall) and my finger (hurt after the fire). I should be able to find out what to do for them. I don’t think anything is broken or seriously injured, but I would still like to be able to make sure that everything is okay before I get up and walk around on my hurt foot and leg a lot. I don’t want to do any more damage than I’ve already done. (I figure that walking through the rest of the maze probably wasn’t the best thing in the world, but they did not have a way for me to get the attention that I needed so that I could prop up my foot.)

I have to call Jennifer in a few minutes to see if she can help me arrange a way to get home from Family Home Evening tonight. I would normally be calling her about now to make sure that she was going to be able to drive me to and from the thing, but since I know that that’s out of the question, I’m just calling as a person from her ward needing the help of the YSA rep from our ward to find a ride. I would call around myself, but I still haven’t gotten my member number to sign in and get my own ward directory.

I’ve finally stopped talking about what happened every few minutes offline. I think I was still processing it until I fell asleep last night. My mom tried to bring things into perspective for me, about being in the car that caught fire. She was like, “I’m not trying to belittle what happened, but you weren’t actually in the car when it was in that much danger of hurting you. You got out before it hurt you.” And she was right, I did get out before it really got consumed, but I still count what I went through as surviving a car fire.

I wish I had therapy sooner. I feel like I need it. I need someone to rant to about things online and off that I can get some feedback from that isn’t biased. I mean, with the whole guy situation, the car fire, the depression that keeps getting worse, and feeling like when I’m with a crowd, I’m being consumed by this horrible dark beast of loneliness. (I know it’s a sign of the depression, but it’s also a sign that maybe I don’t feel like I’m quite as in the group as I thought I was.)

You know what’s really bad? Being in the presence of my friends and still wanting to do something like slit my wrists. I mean, I was so depressed by the end of Saturday that I thought I belonged in the hospital. I was ready to kill myself and I didn’t have a “legitimate reason” to do so except that I felt like I was so alone in the world. I felt like no one would notice if I was gone so I might as well off myself. I haven’t felt that bad since I was at A&M my first year there. I haven’t actually plotted out a suicide to that extent since then. I didn’t realize that I had reached that brink yet, and it’s only October. Things will only get worse from here.

I was telling my mom that I needed to be in the hospital on Saturday night yesterday. I was also telling her that I was trying to schedule in my stay at the hospital while I was going through the whole “my life is falling apart and no one notices or cares” thing. I had things that needed to be done this week, so this week wasn’t going to be good, but I was going to try and get a quick stay in between Tuesday afternoon and Friday. At that point, I was planning to spend Halloween at the dance because I thought that surely my ankle would feel better by then…now, since it’s getting worse, not better, I think I may be propping up still at that point. I still don’t think anyone will notice that I’m not there, except there won’t be a camera going off every few minutes documenting the moments.

That reminds me, Amanda asked me why I always take pictures and I sarcastically told her because I had no life. I think she took me seriously, though. It isn’t because I have no life, it’s because I want to be able to remember what happened in my life. I want to be able to remember the moments that I was happy or sad or suicidal. I want to be able to look back one day and go “I lived and I felt and I experienced” and if I didn’t have the pictures, it might be like waking up with an almost blank slate every day because of the problems I have and the meds I take for them. Sometimes I wake up and I don’t remember the things that go on, and I would like to be able to not have those feelings all the time. I mean, I took those silly face shots of me waiting for Jenn on Saturday and that was a good thing because when everything else fell apart and blew up and all that, I was able to look back at those pictures and remember that for some brief moment, I was silly enough to make those faces. I’m hoping I’ll be that silly again, but I doubt it will happen again until the Spring.

About Janet Morris

I'm from Huntsville, Alabama. I've got as many college credits as a doctorate candidate, and the GPA of some of them, too. I have a boss by the name of Amy Pond. She's a dachshund. My parents both grew up in Alabama.