Listlessly Thinking

8/2/2019

I have yet to decide what is worse, the fact that I am stuck in my head all day long, or the fact I live through past memories more than I make new ones. I lay in bed knowing that many people would dream of spending all day in bed, but I wouldn't wish this on anyone. Often times I get so stuck in my own head that I have to put headphones in and blast music as loud as I possibly can just so that I can no longer think. 

The one perk of being in bed all day is the constant puppy cuddles my doggo Dakota allows. The worst is that I no longer sleep through the night, sometimes I sleep for a couple of hours at a time, but it never feels like enough. So I often lay on my back and and play through memories, some fun, and some painful,  but it gives me something to do. As I lay here I think back to how much I took life for granted and how much I wish I could get out bed and walk myself to the bathroom. Music keeps me calm more often than not, as I spend so much time alone. Sometime I feel alone even with people around me as I simply can't get out of my own head. 

I close my eyes and currently I see myself with my second boyfriend standing in the dining room of my old house. I'm wearing a walking boot and I'm begging him to let me teach him how to swing dance, something to this day that I truly miss doing. I knew my parents were getting irritated at our constant giggling and they retreated upstairs. I knew they didn't like him very much and they wanted him to leave for the night, but his ride was running late and I wasn't ready to leave that moment yet. We saw each other once a week, on a saturday, but this was during the school week and I was going to treasure this moment.  After I constantly begged him to dance with me, I slipped my walking boot off (against doctor's orders as I was non-weight bearing) and we began to dance. I remember he pulled his phone and played a silly country song, most likely something by Zach Brown Band. I remember how happy I was, how no matter how much pain I was in I refused to stop. My mom came down and yelled at us so we slipped outside. He still had some song playing, I wish I could remember exactly what it was,  but he pulled me close and we "danced", as awkward as you might imagine in a walking boot, under the stars. 

I never wanted that moment to end, and I never though for a second that such a memory would have hurt me like it does today.  I'm not saying the memory hurts because I hate that we had to stop, or even because the relationship ends. It hurts because I want to get up and dance, it hurts because I thought I truly loved him, I thought I was going to marry that boy, but my illness stopped everything in its tracks. My head begins to spin the more I think about that memory, that was truly the last happy memory I have from him. After that came hospital visits, and medicines that changed me, made me numb,  and made me forget who I was as a person. The next full memory I have is sitting on the porch after I asked him to come over. My mom had bagged all his sweatshirts, all the stuffed animals he gave me, and the class ring that he gave me to wear around me neck. All bundled in a grocery bag, meaningless. I remember feeling so numb as I told him exactly what my parents told me to tell him. I remember him crying and begging me to stop,  to think about us. I remember his asking me what he did wrong, and then my step-dad came out and made me go inside. I remember crying, and watching him drive off. 

I remember pain. 

After that moment I became terrified of men, I couldn't make eye contact with any man, regardless of age. Constant panic attacks, more hospitalizations, and more medicine to numb everything. It took me 2 and a half years to become even close to being okay again. 

And no, I don't miss that boy, not even in the least, but I don't regret what I did either. I am finally happy with someone, someone who I don't simply think I'm going to marry, but someone I know I will marry. 

The memory still hurts. When I think of the memory I swear I can feel every feeling I had in the moment when it was actually happening. I remember the pain and anxiety being so bad then that I wished someone would sedate me, and I still wish someone would when I think about it... and that was a happy memory.

I don't know if being sick makes you "wiser", all I know is that I wish someone would sedate me so I would stop reliving these memories. I'm so scared that this is a repetitive cycle. If there is a god, he needs to know that this man that I'm with now, I need him. I don't know if he will get tired and leave, but I'm not giving up on this. 

Like I said...laying in bed 24/7 really makes you think.