Lately I've been keeping myself awake at night trying to think of nothing, hoping to start a dream. But more and more that has become harder to do. As you can see it's already rounding the witching hour, and I've already been in bed and back. I just lay there, restlessly refusing to let my mind think about what I know it will. I tell myself to "stop it" and just concentrate on the darkness. But my eyes don't stay shut very long.
I know partially why all this is: I'm currently not taking my Trileptol because my perscription has run out and I'm going throught that "emotional period" (of the month). Don't worry, I'm seeing that doctor soon and will definetly get the medication back under control.
But the other night I scared myself. I started crying when I was supposed to be asleep. It started because I thought about a simple statement Chris had said about my lack of parenting towards the chins. It still saddens me because I do feel like a bad parent. But it's something I can push away because I know they are all right, and I know what I can do to better myself in this area.
Chris tried to comfort me, and kept telling me that it was alright to cry and let emotions out. It's something I knew I needed to do, but I'm a bit scared of it, and understandably so after the current explosion that I'm about to explain. I didn't want to, but couldn't stop crying. And after every time he asked why I'd reply "I don't know."
The crying got harder, my head hurt in the front and I couldn't get either to stop. I started letting myself fall further into the emotion and allowed my mind's eye to see what it was thinking: My grandpa. I was, and still am, upset about my grandpa. It's hard to write this, because I'm trying not to cry, so I'm pushing it all away while trying to pull it forward... no wonder my head hurts.
My grandpa. I was angry with myself for being so mad the day he died. I was on my way to see him in the hospital on what was supposed to be an easy proceedure, and I got the call. I was mad at him because I was on my way and it wasn't fair. I was mad at myself for not having left earlier to go see him, and that maybe I would have seen him before he died. I was mad that I pushed him away so easily during his last few months because I was scared of being hurt by him being ill. I didn't want to believe that my grandpa could ever be so weakened by something. He was a rock for me, and he didn't even let me say goodbye. I was so mad.
And I cry now because of this anger. Because I feel aweful that I felt so mad, so unjustified that he died.
I've tried so hard not to cry when stories are brought up, because his memory is so precious to everyone I don't want them to feel that they can't share them. Because I want to share them too... but sometimes, I'll be sitting alone, and my mind will simply flash his image in my head and it makes me want to cry.
I cried so hard last night I scared myself. I cried out yelling at my brain to "stop it!" and "just leave!". For the images to just "get out!" of my head. I couldn't handle it anymore. I was clawing at my head where the pounding was, trying to iron out my wrinkling forehead with the hard palms of my fists, pushing in my eyeballs through closed lids, sniffling and wailing so hard I didn't make sense anymore. I just didn't want to cry anymore. But at this point I couldn't stop. I do think that if Chris hadn't been there, holding me, and keeping my self abuse to a minimal, I'm sure I would have broke blood.
I don't know why I still cry. I thought I'd mourned enough. Sure I keep it quiet or stop myself from even starting... but looking at fit this emotion caused me last night I can easily see why I've gone the quieter routes.
I guess I post this to thank Chris for being there through my hysterics, and to tell people I'm a lot better than I used to be... as long as I stay medicated, unfortunately. Mainly though to get it out in a place I can access on why exactly I was crying when asked without having to retravel that route again to remember the answer.
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