Finally processing the loss of Chester

Trigger warning: suicide

This is a blog I've been thinking about writing for a long time. I have been thinking a lot about suicide in terms of mental illness, and the stigma surrounding both. Especially since the loss of Chester Bennington. My own thoughts about it have changed a lot over the years. Even when I was young, and drowning in my own youthful angst and medicated depression, I looked at suicide as a coward's way out. Or as something extremely selfish. Now, as an adult, as someone who has been working very hard to understand my own depression, and sadly as someone who experiences invasive thoughts like that, I have a different understanding.

Chester Bennington's death hit me really hard. Harder than any other celebrity death. The reason why, is that his music was my main modality for dealing with my own depression growing up. I fondly tell everyone about getting my first Linkin Park CD, Hybrid Theory. At the time, I was in 8th grade, and I mostly listened to Christian music with my mom. I would occasionally watch MTV, and one day I saw the video for Crawling. The lyrics resonated deeply with how I felt when I was at my lowest, and I became obsessed. In order to be allowed to have the CD, my mom made me print out all the lyrics to every song on the album, and let her read them. She wanted to be sure that there was no swearing, or explicit content. After confirming, she bought it for me, and from then on, I would listen to it constantly, but especially whenever I was upset. My mom hated the screaming, but knew it helped me, and never said anything when I would blare it in my room. 

Now knowing the extent of his own struggle, it makes perfect sense that his lyrics were so on point, and touched so many people who were also struggling. The latest album is especially heartbreaking to listen to, all the encouraging lyrics, how hopeful it all sounds, just to know only a few months after its release, he was gone. 

I have taken a long time to try and process this loss. Mostly putting it off, as I knew that I would have to delve into some of my own darker places, and I wasn't ready. As it goes with celebrity deaths, it has also been difficult hearing criticism about it. People who don't experience depression, or suicidal thoughts, seem to think that he was selfish, leaving his family, leaving his wife to care for their children by herself, never realizing that sometimes the thought process of someone willing to end their life, is that their family and loved ones are better off without them. 

Depression is an awful, persistent, and ever present illness. Feeding off of your fears and insecurities. Physically draining you of energy, or the will to do anything. In your lowest moments, it can convince you that you are a burden on everyone, and that the world would be better off without you. In your high moments, when life is going great, and you're on top of the world, it can still strike, and suddenly it doesn't matter that you have everything you've ever wanted, and that you should count yourself lucky. You're still miserable, so what's the point in living? 

I think those are the times when suicide seem so out of the blue. You hear people say that they were the happiest person, that they had everything going for them, so why would they do such a thing? No matter the reasons, it's very difficult to fathom how someone with a mental illness perceives their existence, and why they would think that suicide is the answer. It's very difficult for someone without any mental illness, to understand the experience of those who have them. Hell, it's difficult for those of us who do have mental illness to understand our own experience. Even then, everyone's experience is different. 

I have more things to say on the topic, this feels pretty wrapped up. Another time, I may share more personal thoughts/experiences on the subject. For now, take care of yourselves. If you are having suicidal thoughts, please reach out. Call 1-800-273-8255 to talk to someone, or you can text 741741 to speak with a trained Crisis Counselor.

 

The Story of My First Polyamorous Love

Three years ago, something happened that triggered the events and thoughts that led to me becoming polyamorous.

We had been friends for 5 years. He was attractive, but kind of an ass most of the time. I always told myself that I wasn't attracted to him. I was in serious denial. 

Anywho, I tend to be fairly flirty with most of my friends, so I of course was flirty with him as well. Also, in my group of friends, we tend to kiss each other on the mouth, and it's no big deal. At one particular party (3 years ago today) my best friend ends up telling me that he had rather soft lips. She had stolen a kiss from him. I got pretty wicked jealous and whined a bit. At some other point, all of a sudden I am cornered up against a wall, and he kissed me. I sunk to the floor. That was the moment the denial started to shatter.

We started getting closer. I started to become painfully aware of my feelings for him. After discovering the term "polyamory" in a fanfiction, I began to research it. I finally approached my husband with the truth of my feelings. Even reading about poly, I still felt guilty. I confessed my feelings and expressed my shame. My wonderful, understanding husband asked why I felt bad. I of course responded that it was because I had feelings for someone other than him. He reassured me that there was nothing to be ashamed of, and that you can't help who you have feelings for. That was the start of many conversations on the subject.

Meanwhile I confessed to my friend. We started kind of seeing each other. I was on Cloud 9. Things went well for most of a year. I realized that I loved him, and that I had been in love with him since the moment we met. He is the only one I can claim to have loved at first sight. Everything was wonderful, I had two amazing men who loved me, and I loved them. Both my men were also friends and got along well. We could all easily hang out together and play video games or watch tv. He moved in with us towards the end of the year, and after a week of living with us, everything came crashing down around me.

He had been struggling with being in a poly relationship. He was monogamous by nature, and had difficulty sharing me. At least that's what he told me. I was aware that it was difficult, and I tried to do everything I could to help ease the discomfort. From trying to take things slow, to trying to communicate frequently, to telling him we could call it off if he didn't want to do it anymore. Until that moment, he had always refused, or brushed it off. I was heartbroken. After calming down a little and trying to be strong for his sake and keep things lighthearted, he tells me there's someone else. I didn't even know he had been talking to anyone else at this point. Much less interested in someone enough to leave me for them. I felt completely betrayed.

For those that don't know, the whole basis of polyamorous relationships is that all parties involved are aware and consenting of the situation. There's a lot of open, honest, and frankly sometimes awkward and difficult conversation involved. To not tell me that he was seeing someone else, or talking to someone he was interested in was pretty much cheating. 

Even after that, I was still trying to handle everything and heal in a mature way and not be a bother to him or his new lady. Come to find out from her (we had been semi friends before all this) she knew about all my conversations with him, all the vulnerable messages I had sent while I was trying to process and heal, and still remain friends with him. That was not ok. That was inconsiderate and a betrayal of my trust as a friend. He could at least have informed me that he was going to tell her about everything so she didn't think I was trying to steal him back, but no. No consideration for poor broken me, who had been doing my absolute best to be considerate of them and not get in the way.

That incident prompted me to cease communication for quite a while. 

Months later, the hubby and I got dragged into some of their drama. I won't go into much, as it is something vulnerable for her and while I have divulged the details to a few close friends, the anonymity of the internet doesn't quite feel like the place to say that. We'll just suffice to say that shortly after a particular incident that warranted her to apologize to my husband, she wanted me to comfort her, and tell her that her current lover (my ex, the man for who this whole post is about) was an ass and that she didn't deserve the way he was treating her. I thought it was an unwritten rule that you don't go to your significant other's ex for comfort. If any of you are familiar with the sitcom Reba, she had basically become my Barbara Jean. I informed her that I was not someone she could come to, that I was not willing to tell her what she wanted to hear. She begged, telling me a sob story of how she was afraid of him and that none of her friends were willing to listen to her. I caved. Told her she didn't deserve him being an ass. She then had the nerve to ask if I could message her and remind her that on occasion. I gave a very dry response that she could print the conversation and put it on her wall. I blocked her after that.

The two of them became a trigger for panic attacks. I always had my guard up. One night, I went to a show put on by some friends, promoting the upcoming anime con in town. Jackass, as I had started referring to him, had stated when we were together that he wasn't a fan of said friend's music, so I let my guard down, thinking there was no way he'd show up. I was miserably mistaken. I began to have a full blown panic attack. I could hardly breathe. I tried to hide as best I could and not look in his direction at all. A friend of mine distracted me and tried to keep me calm. He ended up leaving. I later find out he came in with full knowledge I was there, and also that his lady was with him. Last I had heard from him she was afraid to be near him. I started to hate her and feel bitter towards them both. It became super unhealthy. The bitterness was slowly destroying me.

A month or so later at the anime convention, I ended up interacting with them in a very small degree. With him it started because as my best friend and I were carrying our wares into the convention (we were setting up to sell our jewelry) he happened by and asked if we needed help carrying stuff. I had looked up and made eye contact before I realized it. Nothing too bad happened, yet. My interaction with her was by complete accident. I had spotted a child dressed as Kiki, from Kiki's Delivery Service, and had pulled out my camera and began asking if I could take her picture before I looked up and realized it was her kid. Fuck. I made small talk, attempted to get her to buy my Dalek inspired earrings (she was in a Dalek dress) but to no avail. During the whole day I would catch a glimpse of him, or once or twice he came to our table and spoke with my friend. I think I may have exchanged a few casual words. The more the day dragged on, the more his presence tormented me. I became so painfully aware of how much I had missed him. When the con was finally over, I could barely make it out fast enough before I began to cry. I cried all the rest of that evening.

We come around to close to this time last year. I went to a friend's birthday party, the same one who's birthday party hosted the unforgettable kiss 2 years prior. Well, I arrive and am informed that the two of them would be there. I had already had a feeling that would happen. I had been having strange dreams before, that somehow prepared me. At first it wasn't so bad when they arrived. I gave him an acknowledging head nod. I avoided eye contact with her. He made his rounds hugging people, I was talking with one of our mutual friends and he comes up with arms open wide. I draw her attention to him, stating it looked like he wanted her to hug him. He corrects me that it was offered at me as well. I look at him dumbfounded. I tell him seriously that that will not happen, possibly not ever again. Strangely enough, I think the dreams I had been having were preparing/warning me about that. They were always dreams where he would try to make physical contact somehow. The rest of the night goes fine...ish. One of my best friends approaches me as I am sitting alone. I was nearing the end of my ability to handle everything, the party, the interaction with my perceived enemies, it was all wearing me down. She tells me that his girlfriend seems like a nice person. I rather harshly try to explain that my issues with the woman in question, were not that she was dating my ex, but rather different reasons pertaining to she herself having wronged me.

At this point, my limit is officially well past its mark. I try to see if we can leave. We, the hubby and I, had given a ride to my best friend, and she was in the process of being sick in the bathroom. I needed an escape desperately. I ended up sitting outside on the front porch in the cold for over half an hour and just cried. I had no more energy left to pretend those two people were not my enemies, or the source of my biggest pain and anxiety of the moment. We are finally able to leave, and the night haunts me. The next day I send a text to my ex, asking what the hell he was thinking with trying to hug me. We were not friends who hadn't seen each other in a while. We were broken, which I had tried many times to fix, with no help from him. After some back and forth we get to the point that he wants to try to be friends. I inform him that in order to do so, we needed to work through all the awful shit that had happened and that it wouldn't be pleasant, but it needed to happen in order to move forward without any bitterness. He agreed, but of course it won't happen unless we can work things out with his lady too. I am fine with that, because I had my own issues with her I would like to address and see if we can all move past this, and maybe I can finally heal. Well, after much text conversation with both of them, after much hesitation from her because she didn't want to be a "verbal punching bag" we finally get to the conditions of moving forward. They wanted to pretend none of it ever happened. She would not see where she had wronged me, and neither of them were willing to acknowledge the pain I had gone through. I could not pretend the past 2 years hadn't happened. That was unfair to all of the growth I had experienced. All the pain that had made me a more compassionate person. The decision was made that from that point on, we were all complete strangers. I wanted nothing to do with them anymore. Their existence in my life had become a poison, and it was time to rid my wounded heart of it.

I still feel kind of jipped sometimes, that I wasn't the crazy psycho ex I'm sure they have made me out to be. But isn't it always the curse of the mature, that you will never been seen for how mature you actually are? It has been almost a year since I completely cut ties with them, and I continue to heal. I still have my occasional doubts, of what if I had done something differently, but I know that this was all the best way it could have happened, at least as far as my own actions are concerned. I'm sure there will always be a piece of my heart that mourns the loss of that love and friendship, but I will continue to heal, and continue to grow, and experience all that life has to offer, and become who I am truly meant to be. As much as it hurts, thank you for the lessons. 

Introspection on the past that still haunts me

I wonder if I could have done things differently, but then I realize that I handled things in a fashion way more mature than I felt. I was not wrong in anything I said, or did. I just have no room in my life for people who invalidate my pain, and how I handled healing, especially when they were the cause.

It's a sad reality that we can never again be in each others lives, but they are the ones who chose that, not me.

I gave chances, and I told them what needed to happen in order to move forward. They wanted to pretend none of the pain ever happened, and that is not something I can do. I can not be the person I was before, because that pain, and the growth that followed, are who I am now. How will I explain who I am now if we ignore the catalyst that started the process?

Prayer and Magick

Why?
Why must there be so much tragedy?
It hurts.
If it hurts me this much, I can't even fathom the depth of pain those actually experiencing it feel.
I wish I knew how I could help.
I wish I could eliminate all of the pain.
Even if I did know, I'm not sure if I'm strong enough to try.

So instead, I weep.
I weep for humanity.
I weep for the lost and the broken,
I weep with those who are hurting,
And I weep for those who are treacherous scum.

I light my candle, and weep as I pray to the Goddess for help.
I ground and center, still shaking with sobs.
Deep breaths, ground again.
Palms up, gathering warmth from above,
While also pulling from below.

Palms to the floor,
Sending out all that I have gathered.
Sending out all I have to give of myself.
Down through the floor, deep into the Earth.
Spreading out as far as it will go.
Blanket the globe.
Wrap every being with warmth and love.

I am not sure if my feeble magick can do all of this,
But that is my intent.
Please Goddess,
Let it touch someone.
So mote it be.