This one might only be familiar to those of you who have either read through my archives and/or my other Xangas, or have actually known me in the past 6 years. It is one that is a sore spot on my heart, and has been for the last five and a half years. It has been unresolved and grieved over, until now.

 

Back story:

He and I met in high school. It wasn't long after that when we had our first kiss behind the school building, and were inseparable from then on out. We became each other's entire lives. Spending hours on the phone at night, spending every break between classes together; writing notes, drawings and dreams together. We were all each other had, and we loved it that way. We were engulfed in a love so strong we felt as if we were soul mates, twins of the heart.

We were together a few years, but eventually I had to move away and we ended up separating. We had a bit of a falling out, but inevitably ended up coming back together and staying friends. As friends we remained just as close as ever, we were family. He joined the Navy and the distance between us grew, but of the few times I got to talk to him, it was as if he had never left. We even entertained ideas of me coming to live with him in Japan, or even of getting married as friends so we could both have an extra chunk of change thrown at us by the military. Big dreams and all that.

Years went by and eventually it started to feel as though he was drifting. It began to feel like he had one foot out of the door every time I talked to him. I could feel it, and it hurt to know we weren't quite as close as we were before. I knew I was losing him and I tried desperately to keep him close to me, fruitlessly. We had a disagreement, of the content at this point I'm not sure. It was one of countless we've had before, and overall I thought nothing of it.

Then he was gone. I heard not a goodbye, not a reason, not a word from him.

 

The pain:

This came at a time in my life when I was in a very rough relationship with an abusive man-child; add to that the fact that my Dad was stricken with cancer, and the cocktail got more poisonous. His disappearance from my life came at the worst possible time, and it all went downhill from there.

I wondered there for awhile when he would regain his composure and call back. He was still overseas and I was never sure when I could contact him, so I waited. A week went by, I called him. Months went by, emails and calls were continuously sent. Nothing.

My relationship finally got as bad as I would allow, and as things got physical for the last time, blood was shed. (Worry not, it was not mine.) Before I had a chance to get over the sting of betrayal, Dad entered the hospital for the last time. It was a few days after Thanksgiving 2005 when I said my last goodbye to him.

So there I sat, drowning in heartbreak, anger and loss. Where was my best friend? Where was the one I thought I could always count on?

Still not a word from him.

 

I had a mental break not long after the new year in 2006. I won't say exactly what happened, just know that it was serious, and fucked my entire world for a long time. And even still, silence.

Over the years I recovered from the pain and the anger. Pushed past the loss, and accepted that I would never hear from him again. There in the beginning, after I got past the denial, I began to grieve for him as if he had died. The only trouble was, he hadn't. I knew that he purposely abandoned me, and I couldn't figure out why. That was the worst part, not knowing why. The question tormented me for years. Finally, five and a half years later, I found peace with the situation.

 

Now:

I found out that one of my old email accounts has been hacked and is spamming everyone in my contacts list. Normally I would've just deleted the account and been done with it. The only reason I wanted to save this one is because I've got a ridiculous amount of pictures saved to it from over the years, as well as old emails from Dad and my (now ex) best friend. Sentimental emails and all that. So, I changed the password, and started going through and deleting all the junk email that has been piling up in my inbox for God knows how long. Then I see it.

His name. "Hi.." as the subject line. My heart dropped. Half of me didn't want to open it, and the other half was as a child on Christmas morning wanting to furiously rip open presents. I clicked on it.

 

I had to read it over about 7 times before I even half realized it was real.

An apology.

All of the sudden all the old anger and pain flooded back. My skin felt hot. I read it again. No answer to my question, but at least he admitted his fault; that I'll take. I sat there completely perplexed. My mind started to wander, thinking intently about what I've just stumbled upon... It has yet to quiet.

I looked at the date he sent it, and it was a solid 2 months ago. It aches for a reply, but I'm finding the most difficulty in locating the words for one. There is so much I've wanted to say over all these years that I told myself if I ever had a chance I would. But even as I sit here, still in wonderment, they have yet to come. It's been 3 days since I found that email and my mind has been filled with nothing but a loss of words. Everything I've come up with would be appropriate, and yet doesn't feel right. I can't find myself focusing on anything but this.

So, here I sit still distracted. Even now I'm only a few blocks from where he lives, yet I feel so much further away than that. I've spend all this time disassociating myself from him and from what happened, that now that he's opened contact again I am at a loss. I don't even know how to feel about it, and I feel that I am so far away from finding it.

 

 

 

 

Maybe we can rebuild, or at least get closure.

Like a never ending fall, I lose myself in this place again. Stuck in some kind of purgatory, with no will to leave. Some kind of drug perhaps, is why I have no desire to change this. Same routine, day in and out. With nothing but sweet dreams, to cloud my simple judgment. I wish there was something to spring me from this place.

Let's be hopeful and try and drag me down this road. Forced as it may be, it seems the right place this time.

---

As much as I try, as much as I want to, nothing is coming from me. No art, no writing, no words to speak. It seems I'm filled with empty. The only thing worth anything right now are the brief, albeit vivid dreams I've been having. Even those I'm sure are spawned from the meds I'm on. It would appear as though I'm incapable of an original thought or idea lately. And you know what the worst part is? I don't even care.

All day while I'm alone in this apartment, I can feel myself longing for someone to share my time with. Then, just as sure as the next hour in the day, someone is there. But the longing I just knew, disappeared with the steps in through the doorway. Glad to have another soul present, yes. Although, my mouth seems to be glued shut by my apathy. And I don't even care.

I've been having a rough time of things as of late. Things just haven't seemed to be going in a positive direction for me. I suppose it's alright though, there's always got to be a downside for every up. At this point I've accepted it for what it is, and I'm not letting it linger in my mind.

I know this is the medication speaking, and so I'm letting this peace come with it. Today I witnessed God in my heart, in the core of who I am. I felt Him, His presence, His touch. I felt, what I can only relay as a feeling of weightlessness, a holistic acceptance and peace with the world around me. I can only guess that that was what those moments after death are like. A gentle smile on my face, witness of a control that man is without possession of, a beautiful power over life, a soft white, a weightless soul... It's all so perfect. It's all so welcoming, and comforting.

The physical connection of this to me was made while I was standing alone out in the rain tonight. Clouds rolling with thunder, lightning crashing impressively in the distance, wind dancing across my face. It was while the rain was hitting me, and my eyes were closed. I always have a deep connection with myself and with God during these quiet moments. Tonight was another rare encounter with Him directly. I cannot express how I love these experiences.

It seems as though I'm already there sometimes. Those rare moments when everything on this earth, everything I know is irrelevant. That there's some kind of home for me outside of all this physical world. I want to go back there, and I know someday I will.

It's very strange to encounter. Something I feel won't be accepted, or even realized by most people around me. I want nothing more than for everyone here, on this earth to be a part of. It is the most pure awakening, the most perfect encounter. Void of criticism and doubt. Just... perfect in every way.

I realize that this may not make much sense to anyone, though I deeply wish it did. This type of emotion, this type of mental existence is hard to relay. I wish I could share it better than I have. But maybe some day you'll get the idea.

Yes, I've been a bit distant lately from dear old Xanga. I apologize, things have been a little hectic, and my mind hasn't been on the right track. However, today I find myself in a good mood, so we'll see how this goes.

Friday week before last I had surgery.
You see, prior to March 1st I had the worst eating habits possible. Drank soda non-stop, ate out at fast food joints almost every meal, and I didn't care how fatty it was, just how good it tasted to me. I was the prime example for how NOT to eat. And, it never really bothered me because when I'd go out with my friends, they ate like I did so it was no big deal. I mean, my roommate eats healthy and would rag on me every chance he got, but I always just ignored him. I didn't care. Sure I'm overweight, but I really just didn't give a shit.

My stomach started to hurt when I ate, I thought it was just a stomach ulcer at first, even though it didn't feel the same. I didn't really give it much thought, and figured it'd go away like the ulcers before. Then the attacks started. I'd get this horribly uncomfortable feeling in my abdomen right under my rib cage. It felt like there was a huge balloon in there pushing on all of my organs and moving around slowly. It didn't necessarily hurt, but it was bad enough that my breath was shortened from the pressure. I'd wake up out of a dead sleep with it, and it wouldn't go away for about 4 hours in the middle of the night. Needless to say I didn't get much sleep when it happened. It wasn't every night I'd get an attack, more like once a week. At first I'd blow it off, I had no idea what it was and for some reason I figured it'd stop eventually. Wrong. It got worse. The attacks became more frequent and more painful. Finally, after a couple months they got so painful I couldn't stand it. The last one I had the pain was horrible, and it radiated up around my lungs and my heart. I felt like I was going to die. It freaked me out so bad that I almost had a panic attack on top of it all. I couldn't hardly breathe, I was scared. I was scared enough to go to the E.R.

I didn't even bother to get dressed, I just went in my pajamas. I got there, and I was sitting in the lobby just crying to myself because the pain was so bad. It takes a lot of pain for me to cry. I have a really high pain tolerance, so I knew this was really bad. So, after they call me back and I get done with triage, the pain mysteriously disappears... completely. I was just as confused as the nurses. They asked me what my pain was on a scale of 0-10, when I replied with "0" they'd give me this, 'then why the hell are you here' look. I'd have to explain my attack to make them less confused. But, I was just as confused as they were. So, the doctor finally came in and told me to explain what was going on to him, so I did.

When the attack was bad enough that night I called Mom 'cause I didn't know what to do. Since my Mom works in the medical field, she has a lot of knowledge about how the body works. She told me what it could be, and probably the reasons why it was happening. So, when I got into see the doctor I told him exactly what she had told me. He laughed a little and said that I had basically diagnosed myself, and what did I need him to do. It was almost awkward for a second. I told him that I'd like to figure out exactly what was causing the attacks, and see if there was a way to get them to stop. So, they did some blood tests, X-Rays and a sonogram to get a better picture of what was going on. Apparently my white count was high (which indicated infection), and my gallbladder was inflamed with liquid around it, which is really bad news. Apparently the attacks were caused by gallstones I had that were too big to pass through. The stones would get stuck in the duct, and my body would spasm and cause all that pain.

After all the tests the doctor came back in and talked to me about my options. It was simple; go home and continue to have more attacks that would get worse and worse, or have my gallbladder taken out completely. Apparently the gallbladder is unlike the kidney with stones. With your kidney, you can just have the stones removed, whereas with the gallbladder you have to remove the whole thing. So, the obvious (but more scary) decision was to have it removed.

So, they had me admitted since the earliest I'd be able to get into surgery was 2 days away. I was on a strict no solid food diet, and monitored my "output", which is a nice way of saying pee. It was horrible not being able to eat anything but jello, broth (which tasted horrible), juice or water. I was so hungry I could hardly stand it. By that morning Mom had made her way up to the hospital. She couldn't come up the night before because she had taken a sleeping pill, and wasn't safe to drive. So, in the morning she made the 60 mile drive up here and stayed with me all day. I felt bad for her, she didn't want to leave the room in case the doctor came in, but she was so hungry, and didn't want to eat in front of me 'cause it would torture me. She's so sweet, I love her to death.

Finally it came time for surgery. By that time I had a bunch of friends and family up there to see me and keep me company. I was getting more and more nervous, though I suppose I didn't show it because someone asked me if I was nervous at all 'cause I didn't seem like it. Of course I was nervous! This was the first time I had ever had surgery, and the idea of someone cutting me open and taking out my organs (while interesting) was a little nerve-wrecking. But, I kept my cool, 'cause I'm awesome like that. Everyone walked with me as I was being taken to pre-op. I waved goodbye over my head and through the doors I went. I think my Grandma almost started crying, she gets emotional like that sometimes. I could tell Mom was nervous too, but I got my cool-headed nature from her, she's got it perfected.

I get back there, and they hook me up on IV again. I can only assume it was the anesthesia because after about 30 minutes the world stopped and I was gone. I woke up briefly as they were putting me on the surgical table I think. I remember because I saw these 3 huge green and purple glinted lights over me. The light wasn't abrasive, it was bright, but soft. I remember thinking it was very beautiful, I wanted to touch them. Like they were some kind of static jellyfish. They were mystical.
Next thing I know, I'm waking up in my room. I kind of wonder what I looked like passed out from anesthesia. I bet I was a mess. If I were a friend to myself and been there, I would've gotten a marker and written something on my arm for when I woke up. But alas, my Mom and Grandmother were the only ones there when I awoke. It was nice to have only small family company though, since I was so debilitated. I was on a morphine drip, so I couldn't really feel much. Although, I could definitely feel some of it. I couldn't move, I know that. The next day they took me off morphine and put me on a strong dosage of hydrocodone. I could definitely tell the difference, the pain was more severe, and if I didn't take it 30 minutes before I knew I was going to need it I was in severe pain. Getting up to go to the bathroom was so horrible. I almost wanted a catheter just so I didn't have to move. Almost.

Eventually I got a little better. The time came to be discharged, I didn't feel like I was ready, but Mom explained to me that it would be another $2,000 to stay another day, so I went along with it. I didn't need this to be any more expensive than it already was. The car ride home was agonizing. All the tiniest bumps that never mattered before were excruciating now.

My friend's mom let me stay at her house while they were out of town, because her beds are higher off the ground than the ones at my apartment. My mattress literally is on the floor, no box-spring or anything. Thank God for that, because getting out of bed, or even a chair was horrible. I had to use my elbows and legs to do everything. If I even flinched with my abdominal muscles I was in excruciating pain. It was very hard to function. Thank God my roommate stayed there with me and helped me out. He was so sweet, he totally took care of everything I needed. I owe him a lot for all the help he gave me.

As the days went on I got better and better. Getting out of bed, while still very difficult, was now possible alone. Eventually I started weening myself off the pain meds. I didn't like being on them, I hate pills, and I didn't want to be on them as soon as possible. I almost cold-turkied that one. Which, I'm not sure was the greatest idea. I put myself through a lot of unnecessary pain. But, I finally got completely off of them. I'm glad I did it too, it helped my digestive system get back on track, which was super fucked up from the anesthesia and the pain meds. I felt half-way normal again, just in a lot of pain.

I had my follow-up appointment today with my surgeon. I'm healing really good and can go back to eating "without restriction". Although, that's not going to happen. I completely changed my diet around at the beginning of this month before the last attack even happened, and I plan on sticking to it. I want to lose weight and get my body healthy.

I've got a lot to learn, because never in my life have I cared about being healthy. Once I got out of my parent's house I went crazy and ate all the crap they'd never let me get. I ate horribly, and didn't care. Well, no more! I'm sticking to this low-fat diet plan. It's really hard to keep with because I've got to completely retrain my taste buds. I have to convince myself that fried foods taste horrible, and that I don't want to actually eat them. This is an extremely difficult task seeing how before my most eaten food was fried chicken, or chicken strips and fries. Oh my God, I miss chicken strips. It makes me sad that I can't eat them, but I've got to stick it out. And dammit if I let that urge beat me!

So until further notice, yours truly will be on a strict low-fat diet and no soda program. I know I can do this because I actually want to do this. And I know that's the key, like anything. Until this next Monday I'm resting up and trying to fully recuperate, after that I'm back to work! All will be right with the world once again.

Baby, you're getting older, there's no doubt about that. You've been around, and gone about 110,000 miles with me, after having been previously loved. You've been a great little car, and I have loved you in return. But this time, the doc has bad news my little 'Cordy. This time it's non-recoverable. I could spend the almost $4,000 it takes to get you up and running fine again... except Kelly Blue Book says you're only worth $1,050. I'd be losing money on you. We've had a good run, and I wouldn't have missed even a minute of it. But baby, I have to let you go. I will never forget you, you were the best first car anyone could've ever hoped to have.


Seriously though, I'm sad. I've had this car since I was 16, it's the only car I've ever known. I've taken the best care of it I could, and hoped it would last as long as possible. I guess it's time has come. I'm glad it made it the 50 miles from my home to my Mom's, but I think this will be it's last stop. 

Rest is peace, my lovely old 'Cordy. You will be missed.