Welcome to My Darkest Hours: Part 3
First, I would like to acknowledge and welcome all of our new visitors. The Facebook page has had an increase in likes of people I have yet to meet. So Welcome! And thank you for tuning in. The mission here is not just to tell life stories. But to take those experiences and normalize being vulnerable and network with each other for healing, because lets face it, we should not have to heal alone. YOU ARE NEVER ALONE. This is a three part story, this being the final piece as a tribute to my lost loved ones, who I held very dear. I know some people who are experiencing some different kinds of loss and as I passed them some advice, it inspired me to share these stories earlier than planned. So if you are not caught up, below are the links to the first two parts:
Welcome to My Darkest Hours: Part 1
Welcome to My Darkest Hours: Part 2
If you are caught up, I am totally aware that I left you hanging with a cliff hanger there. I didn't mean to do that with an element of anticipation, but I really needed to find a stopping point because these experiences have intricate detail that I don't want to leave out. The more in-depth I go, the more those details affected me in some way...deeply.
But, once I received that text from my Aunt, I called and called and finally got an answer. I already knew what she was going to say.
Nana passed away.
The news was concise and easy to understand, but I just couldn't grasp what she was telling me. Without a goodbye? I had been planning on flying there because her dementia was really getting bad and I knew our time would be short, but what the heck happened? Where did the time go?
I called into work and notified my supervisor of the news and I stayed home all day and cried. I ran the details through my head over and over. Ever since her surgery, her health was deteriorating. I couldn't help but think that it was my fault because I chose the "good" anesthesia that had a high risk factor of onset dementia. My Aunt reassured me over and over that it had nothing to do with it. She had a diabetic infection that was hidden and no one really caught it until the infection spread and ultimately, it was too late.
I sat in silence for a long time.
My childhood was gone. The last piece of my innocence was gone. I couldn't feel anything. I couldn't breathe. My chest was caving. Would things be different if I chose the other anesthesia? Would she not have had the memory problems? Would she have never had to go to the nursing home? Could I have done better?
I kept going to sleep, begging that they would come back in my dreams, but they were nowhere to be found. Was that it? Did they leave me?
Once I had experienced my second assault that I had discussed in My Chaotic Life: The Final Piece, I remember I would take walks during work. Just five minutes outside, smoke, go back... Just to clear my head and ground myself again. At this point I felt I had nothing. I was assaulted, broken, lost, and confused. I didn't want to be alive.
I DIDN'T WANT TO BE ALIVE.
I've never told anyone this, but I actually was so serious about killing myself. I couldn't stop thinking about it all day; it was a disease. But when I took my last walk of the day, I smelt my Grandma and Nana. And there's no way it could be explained. There is no laundromats on base in that area. There's no way somebody happened to use their combination of soap and softener. There's no way. I cried. I couldn't stop crying and my boss walked me to my counselor and I let it all out.
The true lesson here is that we need people. Anyone who's willing to listen. Don't shut people out. Don't run away! I know, not everyone will walk you to a resource, but SOMEONE will. FIND THEM! You ARE NOT alone. I thought I wanted to die. I couldn't take it anymore. But I didn't want to kill myself, I just wanted the pain to stop. I was hurting.
But my Grandma and Nana would never want me to hurt. They would never want me to cry They thought the world of me and wanted me to fight my odds and succeed! So why would I kill myself? I would be throwing away their hopes and dreams that were still very much alive.
So I survived. I sought out help from anyone and any thing that was willing to help and I'm still here. Talk to someone, share your story, and choose to live. Don't let the hopes and dreams that are still alive to become lost. Your life is in YOUR hands. The hurt doesn't go away immediately, but every time I meet an accomplishment in my life, I smell my Grandma and Nana because I know they are there with me, every step of the way.
Thank you for listening. And thank you for private messaging me your stories. You all are beautiful, brave people who I am blessed to know and meet. Soon, we will be sharing the stories of different people and the hope is to cheer them on and commend them for joining the fight of normalizing being vulnerable and seeking help through others. We want and need to heal together. Bless you all.
Rest In Peace Mary Carmen Velarde (Once birth is verified, I will add to post)
I love you Nana.