Did you know you can die of grief and stress? A troubled mind causes heart-attack-like symptoms; they call it Broken Heart Syndrome–dying of a broken heart. Usually the syndrome occurs in older women, but I wonder if whether or not it happens is linked to mental strength as well as physical? Right now I’m the weakest I’ve ever been. The nightmare my life has been since October nineteenth has to do with much more than just my friend’s choice. Every time I’m halfway coping another trouble wounds me deeply. They come from out of nowhere. The people around me try to help, but they cannot live my life for me. I’m not the only one with physical pain due to heart wrenching emotion. We are all more than a little messed up right now.
I wish I could go back and wake up that Sunday morning and listen to the gut instincts I had all day. The Holy Spirit can be ignored; I may have been guilty of that. I felt I should not let our mutual friend come to youth group with me, but rather stay with him. I thought I should have followed him into the woods–because isn’t that what we all want, to be followed by dogged love? I had the urge to randomly stop by the house on the way home. I knew I should have checked my facebook sooner when I felt the nudge instead of putting it off and telling myself to stop being addicted to social media… I know, I can’t live in the past. I go to work and act like I’m ok every day. If I act like it I feel like it more or less eventually, but then reality brings me back down.
The last thing I want is to go to another funeral thanks to suicide. I hate depression like some people hate cancer, because it steals the ones I love, if not physically then mentally. But reality is if I keep loving the people long enough eventually I’ll find myself at another mourning ceremony courtesy of depression. They lean on me. I do my best to keep them alive, for both their sake and mine. But the balance between trust and betrayal is terrible. I’ll break trust so they can continue living, despite the fact that their lives feel like wretched, pointless torture. And then they’ll hate me. Last time breaking trust only made it worse.
I am worn, and I am tired, and I am empty. I can’t sleep tonight. My hair is falling out. My immune system is suffering. Mental stress is catching up to my body, but life does not relent. There is no time out, there is not pause button, there is no relief. Don’t pity me. I’m not saying this here for pity. Rather, I’m typing it out because it is a part of my journey, plus, since these words started circling in my head an hour or so ago they would not cease. If I fought them long enough they would have been gone by morning. They were being stubborn, and I didn’t want to lose them–that is how writing works for me. Maybe now that the words are all typed out I can slip into the gentle oblivion of sleep. We’ll see.