The guilt...

I've written these words before and I'll write them again. I'll write them again and again until I know in my heart that is ok.

I got thew news of his death while working the afternoon shift at Planet Smoothie. He was calling me all day. I wouldn't answer. I was so upset with him, I felt like ignoring was better.

He was lying to me. Ironically, about using Oxycontin. He kept telling me he was done, it was just a few times and I continued to see/hear otherwise. I thought maybe just day of ignoring would help me cool off and maybe I could be more helpful and supportive of him.

I had met with some of our other friends before my shift. I had plenty of time to stop by his house and check on him. I wanted to apologize for not answering and also express how I was feeling in the situation. I had every fucking intention of doing this but for whatever reason, when I got in my car, I drove to work.

The most devastating phone call of my life arrived an hour or so into my shift. I can't remember anything that happened after that. I think we got together with our friends. It didn't feel real. A part of me died right then too.

My parents weren't fond of my friends. We were good kids, just a little rambunctious and wild. All but one of us swam competitively and played water polo. They were also all boys so maybe it was just too much for them, but I think we were always just having a good ol' teenage time.

I feel like when this happened they really wanted me away from them, when all I really needed was to be closer to them. I understand being afraid and concerned, this just wouldn't be the method I would choose for my own children. His funeral took place in Tennessee and I was told that if I went they would cut me off and not support me in any way and this was heartbreaking. I felt like I needed them to be on my side, this was not something that I could just "get over." I needed closure and closeness with my friends and support from my family and again, I felt so alone.

Before this happened, I had enough guilt to go around. Guilt about not being/doing enough. Being enough of this or not enough of that. Doing something wrong. After, the guilt consumed me. For 10 years. What if I would have gone that day? What if I would have checked in or answered the phone?

I do believe for many years I lived on through his addiction and suffering. Maybe if I brought enough suffering upon myself it would make up for what he was going through. Maybe to help me understand it. Maybe I would die too and we would meet again.

I do a lot of shadow work around guilt and shame and it does not own me like it used to and there is still a lot of work and healing to be done.

Most days it comes down to being kind to myself. Constant reminders that no one can do or be it all. I am a strong fucking woman and I can do anything. I must show loving-kindess to myself first and foremost. No one else can give me that. Only I can make the choice to be kind to my own self and as much as I want to do it all, being right here, right now, is better.

I see his soul in my loved ones. I know he has come back to me in some way and I do not feel as alone anymore. I still drink slurpees on his birthday and look back on everything we shared.