If anything should happen to me anytime soon, I want the world to know: I DIDN'T PROVOKE THIS!
I didn't ask to care for him. It happened. It happened over many years. Call it destiny, but still, it's not the way I expected things to end. I had a premonition, so I write to let someone know that just in case something happens, there is a history, a paper trail, something to make sense of the senseless.
Because this would be senseless. People break up every day, all the time. They break up and life goes on. Only sometimes to things go terribly wrong and people die. That's my premonition. That I'm a goner. That he's so far beyond help that I'll be going with him.
I don't want to die. But if I do, I want the world to know a few things. I want the world to remember me not as a victim, but as someone who lived life fully, deeply, intensely. Someone who wasn't afraid to take risks. Someone who went out the extra mile to live, love and laugh. Enjoy every sunset.
I want you all to remember me every time you see the ocean, feel the breeze. Hear a Bach sonata, every note screams my name. Every time you dance or hear a mambo, I'm there. Every time a plane touches down in a foreign country and you get the first whiff of heat, humidity and the local smells, I'm there. Every time you read a good book, see a great ballet, or eat a meal worth dying for, I'm there. Because I did all these things with gusto. With joy. Everytime like it was the last. And maybe it was.
Scatter me at sunset over the ocean. Make sure there's a breeze, so I go all over the place. Don"t shed a tear, laugh and dance. Play some Bach. I might be gone, but I'm watching over you all. Even if I didn't like you.
Don't blame the perp. He was sick. Nobody could save him. I thought I could, but I reconsidered and tried to get away. If he did what he did, it was destiny, nothing else. Our paths were brought together like that. In the end no one could have saved us
I don't have a death wish. I have a premonition that I'm going. I have ample warning he might be coming after me. I am prepared. I just know that if it's my time, no one can save me. I've lived my life fully and without regrets. I'm only sorry for the poeple I leave behind. My baby. My Bumby. My friends, my family. My community. They will suffer and think it senseless. But life is a part of death, we're closer every day we live.
I love you all. You know who you are. You've provided me with love, friendship, companionship, everything a person could ever want in a lifetime. I can honestly say it has been a great journey, the good times and the bad, but in the end, I don't hate anyone, even the ones who hurt me. I forgive, even if it takes me a little time. I move on. I find joy in other places, other things, other people, in myself.
Don't think of this as a tragedy. I'm free. I'll be the angel looking over you.
RECIPE FOR TRAGEDY
1. Be depressed.
2. Expect everyone else to resolve your problems. And then be angry when they won't, can't, or just let you be because that is easier than dealing with you
3, Self-medicate with all the wrong substances.
4. Not be able to handle any stress or frustration, no matter how small.
5. Refuse any type of professional help.
6. Think of dying a lot. Or think of dying because for once, you can say you WERE happy. With me. Until you screwed it up again.
7. Always take the easy way out.
I'm resigned to losing you. I can't help you. I can't be witness to your self destruction. I'm going to get that phone call one day telling me you're gone and I'll kick myself, blame myself, but realize that you're going to do this to yourself. I didn't do this to you.
You're going to do this to yourself and your friends are going to grieve the loss of a wonderful person, a caring soul, an intelligent man, a good father. But we couldn't help you. Because you didn't want our help. Because you couldn't ask for help. Because you couldn't help yourself.
Because in the end you were going to do whatever you wanted, no matter what the consequences were to yourself or anyone else.
Selfish.
What a waste.
2. Expect everyone else to resolve your problems. And then be angry when they won't, can't, or just let you be because that is easier than dealing with you
3, Self-medicate with all the wrong substances.
4. Not be able to handle any stress or frustration, no matter how small.
5. Refuse any type of professional help.
6. Think of dying a lot. Or think of dying because for once, you can say you WERE happy. With me. Until you screwed it up again.
7. Always take the easy way out.
I'm resigned to losing you. I can't help you. I can't be witness to your self destruction. I'm going to get that phone call one day telling me you're gone and I'll kick myself, blame myself, but realize that you're going to do this to yourself. I didn't do this to you.
You're going to do this to yourself and your friends are going to grieve the loss of a wonderful person, a caring soul, an intelligent man, a good father. But we couldn't help you. Because you didn't want our help. Because you couldn't ask for help. Because you couldn't help yourself.
Because in the end you were going to do whatever you wanted, no matter what the consequences were to yourself or anyone else.
Selfish.
What a waste.
The Phone call I don't want to answer
Signs and symptoms of the depressive phase of bipolar disorder include persistent feelings of sadness, anxiety, guilt, anger, isolation, or hopelessness; disturbances in sleep and appetite; fatigue and loss of interest in usually enjoyable activities; problems concentrating; loneliness, self-loathing, apathy or indifference; depersonalization; loss of interest in sexual activity; shyness or social anxiety; irritability, chronic pain (with or without a known cause); lack of motivation; and morbid suicidal ideation
Mania is generally characterized by a distinct period of an elevated, expansive, or irritable mood state. People commonly experience an increase in energy and a decreased need for sleep. A person's speech may be pressured, with thoughts experienced as racing. Attention span is low and a person in a manic state may be easily distracted. Judgment may become impaired; sufferers may go on spending sprees or engage in behavior that is quite abnormal for them. They may indulge in substance abuse, particularly alcohol or other depressants, cocaine or other stimulants, or sleeping pills. Their behavior may become aggressive, intolerant or intrusive. People may feel out of control or unstoppable. People may feel they have been "chosen," are "on a special mission," or other grandiose or delusional ideas. Sexual drive may increase. At more extreme phases of bipolar I, a person in a manic state can begin to experience psychosis, or a break with reality, where thinking is affected along with mood. Many people in a manic state experience severe anxiety and are very irritable (to the point of rage), while others are euphoric and grandiose.
I think you're cycling. Faster and faster. I'm scared for you. Up and down, up and down at a dizzying speed. With flight of ideas, grandiosity, and all those other things that make the mania come alive. I'm afraid of the crash. I'm afraid of what you may do. I'm afraid of losing you. I'm afraid that this world will lose you over a mountain of beans which you will find overwhelmingly difficult to climb.
I'm afraid. I'm angry. I want to help. You push me away. I get angry. I get scared. I'm afraid of that phone call, unexpected in the middle of the day that informs me that they found your body. I'm INVOLVED, whether I'm in or out of the picture. If I'm IN, I am a witness to your destruction. If I'm OUT, blame will be assigned. Mainly by me.
I can't help you. You need help beyond my capabilities. I try to be there for you but you push me away. Sometimes I think I'm the only one listening to you. The only one who cares about you. But you don't make the job easy. You make it as hard as possible for anyone to like you, much less love you.
Please don't self-destruct. Don't paint yourself into a corner. Your problems aren't all that big that they can't be resolved with time. Don't do this to yourself, to your family, to your son. Don't check out. You are not a failure. You just need to see that you need help beyond what we can offer you. You need to be healthy inside before you can be happy.
You seem resigned to die at an early age. I can't accept that, but I can't stop you either. Because it's bigger than both of us.
So, I wait for the phone call with the awful news.
Mania is generally characterized by a distinct period of an elevated, expansive, or irritable mood state. People commonly experience an increase in energy and a decreased need for sleep. A person's speech may be pressured, with thoughts experienced as racing. Attention span is low and a person in a manic state may be easily distracted. Judgment may become impaired; sufferers may go on spending sprees or engage in behavior that is quite abnormal for them. They may indulge in substance abuse, particularly alcohol or other depressants, cocaine or other stimulants, or sleeping pills. Their behavior may become aggressive, intolerant or intrusive. People may feel out of control or unstoppable. People may feel they have been "chosen," are "on a special mission," or other grandiose or delusional ideas. Sexual drive may increase. At more extreme phases of bipolar I, a person in a manic state can begin to experience psychosis, or a break with reality, where thinking is affected along with mood. Many people in a manic state experience severe anxiety and are very irritable (to the point of rage), while others are euphoric and grandiose.
I think you're cycling. Faster and faster. I'm scared for you. Up and down, up and down at a dizzying speed. With flight of ideas, grandiosity, and all those other things that make the mania come alive. I'm afraid of the crash. I'm afraid of what you may do. I'm afraid of losing you. I'm afraid that this world will lose you over a mountain of beans which you will find overwhelmingly difficult to climb.
I'm afraid. I'm angry. I want to help. You push me away. I get angry. I get scared. I'm afraid of that phone call, unexpected in the middle of the day that informs me that they found your body. I'm INVOLVED, whether I'm in or out of the picture. If I'm IN, I am a witness to your destruction. If I'm OUT, blame will be assigned. Mainly by me.
I can't help you. You need help beyond my capabilities. I try to be there for you but you push me away. Sometimes I think I'm the only one listening to you. The only one who cares about you. But you don't make the job easy. You make it as hard as possible for anyone to like you, much less love you.
Please don't self-destruct. Don't paint yourself into a corner. Your problems aren't all that big that they can't be resolved with time. Don't do this to yourself, to your family, to your son. Don't check out. You are not a failure. You just need to see that you need help beyond what we can offer you. You need to be healthy inside before you can be happy.
You seem resigned to die at an early age. I can't accept that, but I can't stop you either. Because it's bigger than both of us.
So, I wait for the phone call with the awful news.
I've been waiting for your arrival all weekend.
You've been announcing your arrival all weekend.
I'm still waiting. I'm disappointed. The festivities have gone on without you, since you've told me your stuff is in the car and you're coming RIGHT over-that was 2 days ago.
You missed it. My friends from out of town had fun. So did I. We ate, went to the beach, cooked up a storm and engaged in wonderful conversation. All you could do was call and alternately complain about where you were, how busy you were, how much money you were going to make-eventually, and complain I wasn't there with you.
No. I'm not there with you. Because I have no place there. This is my home. My place is here.
So you bitch and moan. And you continue to be arriving "soon".
My life goes on without you.
You've been announcing your arrival all weekend.
I'm still waiting. I'm disappointed. The festivities have gone on without you, since you've told me your stuff is in the car and you're coming RIGHT over-that was 2 days ago.
You missed it. My friends from out of town had fun. So did I. We ate, went to the beach, cooked up a storm and engaged in wonderful conversation. All you could do was call and alternately complain about where you were, how busy you were, how much money you were going to make-eventually, and complain I wasn't there with you.
No. I'm not there with you. Because I have no place there. This is my home. My place is here.
So you bitch and moan. And you continue to be arriving "soon".
My life goes on without you.
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