It’s Saturday, day #17


It’s Saturday again. Can’t believe I am still writing neatly according to my blog a day promise. I hope to be able to continue this but of course, something always could come up… And some days might be more boring than others. I am doing my best folks. Not to do too stupid things that might make it more interesting though… I am trying to write in a way that will appeal to all of you, every day again.

So I hope today I won’t disappoint you. If I didn’t you can easily let me know by liking this post or even commenting on it 😉

Warning This post will deal with death and suicidal ideas so it might contain triggers for some of you. It isn’t my intention to trigger anyone so hence the warning.

So I’ve been thinking on a topic for today. Telling you all whay I do every day might become too dull so I want to write about a topic from the past that still is present now and in the future: death. I know it is  kind of morbid topic but it already has been in a big part of my life. Been to too many funerals, lost too many (and sometimes too young) people during these thirty-one years I’ve been on this planet. Plus, thanks to the deep down depressed periods, I get to think and dream a lot about death and suicide as well. The other side of death, the one you choose instead of trying to avoid it for as long as possible.

Before I turned 18 I already lost 4 people I knew, one of them was my dear grandmother. I have been lucky to have had both my parents’ mothers in my life. Buth they were very different. Both were good women, but due to their pasts one was huggable and the other kept some more distance. One never really judged you while the other could be more harsh (like I can be) at times. But I guess it is normal not to have the same bond with everyone. I just sometimes felt guilty for not loving both equally. It’s silly, right? Feeling guilt for that? 

I was 16 when my favorite (still now it sounds too harsh…) grandmother died while on vacation. I was already going through the motions of puberty. I really could not and would not believe she had passed away. For hours I hid and thought of her, still enjoying her favorite vacation area. Three days after she died I received a card from her (and my grandfather), informing me how much fun they had. That only made my imaginations run even wilder. And it made me more sad to know that one of the last things she did while alive was sending out postcards to everyone…that later would attend her cremation.
Even while typing this, I get teary eyes. I never went to say goodbye at the cremation place. I was in denial, hard stubborn denial. I still don’t know if I made the best choice by not going and I guess I will never find out.
Grandma was the third burial/cremation I went to, but the first where I stood in line where all those people try to make you cry… They pay their respects and all mean well but it hurts if they keep telling you that you don’t need to be strong. I knew I didn’t but I also didn’t want to share my loss and grieve with all of them!

A few months after my grandma died I got news that I needed a difficult surgery. Not life threatening but still. I still was coping and trying to deal with grandma’s death and with this news.. I believe these two huge changes in my life lead me to my first depression (as far as I can remember). Not that I saw it as it was back then. I felt sad a lot, but after years of being terrebly bullied, beaten en used (not sexually!) and the recent loss… I thought it was normal to feel this way. But it went further than that. When I think back of that period…I do believe I had my first real suicidal thoughts back then. Thinking how I would be together with my grandma, how I wouldn’t need a painful surgery, no more bullying… No more worries and pain. It were no “hardcore” suicidal thoughts but I could spend hours imagining how it would be better…

At the age of 18 I met current BF. Within 2 years he lost his parents. They died within 13 months of each other. It was very hard on both of us. His mum died when we were with her. It was the first time I saw somebody die. WOW! Huge impact! Scary, haunting nightmares impact. At the moment you do all you can. You know it is best for her to die, she could never heal and only be in more pain as time went by. But some part of you doesn’t want to let go. Conflict. BF wanted to shake his mum while telling her to wake up. Heartbreaking. I had to pull him off her. Didn’t want her all bruised when they would come to pick her up. When his dad had died, his mum was already ill. He took care of her and many of the arrangements. His older sister helped…in her way… He wasn’t over the loss of his dad when his mum died. He changed. I understood. I was waiting for him to change back. He never really came back completely. And when he got back a bit, it never felt the same. But I understood. Or I did my best to try to understand.
In all the years we had been together he cried three times. After a huge fight we had, loss of his dad and the loss of his mum. It still breaks my heart when I see him cry. Maybe because it doesn’t happen that often. Maybe because then he is finally showing some emotions.

Sigh… We’re on our way from the cinema. The movie was quite good but the cinema was warm. Too warm. Got me a slight headache. I guess I will post this blog now and hopefully soon continue on this topic. The tip of the veil has been lifted and you all got a glimpse underneath.

Good Sunday too all! Luv, LW

PS. The image I used is only edited by me. I found the original using my PicsArt Android app. So I claim no rights to thw original.


~ by Lonely Wallflower on March 4, 2012.

2 Responses to “It’s Saturday, day #17”

  1. I shall reply on Sunday’s post…

  2. […] year, my grandma passed away while on vacation (I mentioned something about it last week in this blog post). I wasn’t all that stable. I got into a huge fight with my dad and was forced to live with […]

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