By this time, it had been about 9 months since my mom died. The funeral was done, her resting place was set, the headstone was in place, her clothes were packed, and most of the world, was running just as it should. I acquired a puppy around this time too - Darla. Life was going on track, work, school, work. I started the semester off strong but as it progressed, my grades dropped - I shouldn't have been surprised, I never really went to class. Well I was there physically but not mentally.
I don't really know how my friends and acquaintances were perceiving me...I didn't really care. I was stuck in my own world. I was blind to what was going around me mostly. There were a few instances when I had to snap out of it and return to "momma Lauren" but I didn't feel it most often. During my free time from school and work, I was either sleeping, had friends over, or out and about. Each of these had its own evil, all in which I was perfectly fine with. When I was sleeping, I was riddled with nightmares and would wake up crying or screaming most times, When I was with my friends I was either probably really detached or messed up, and when I was out and about I was doing what every other 23 year old was doing...Drinking. Only by now, once I hit that brick wall, I would somehow slip out of a comma and start to think about everything. My anger and rage would be turned towards someone else...I would call everyone and cry or yell. All I wanted was attention, or love, or just to "be normal", to be happy, not to have to smile in front of everyone. I would sit there and think to myself, "All these people have a freaking perfect world, well it may not be perfect, but they are not going through what I am." It made me angry at the rest of the world at my friends. Even though I was angry, I never wanted them to feel what I was feeling, even though I knew one day some sooner than others would feel it and THEN they would understand, I really wished and hoped that they wouldn't have too.
With a precursor here, This is my version. What others around me might say, is a completely different story. But this is a blog titled "All about me"
I suppose when you are just regularly drunk, piss poor decisions and crappy behavior is acceptable because you can claim black out or "I was drunk, I don't remember ha ha ha" But when your are grieving, your behavior is cause for scare, detachment, or straight up people being mean to you, or even worse your bad behavior is encouraged by others who use you to get their way. You are misunderstood on every level, and I found myself in that predicament. I didn't mind much because I felt that if I could hide what I really was feeling - EVEN THOUGH IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN CLEAR AS DAY to everyone, I didn't care. I figured it was much easier to be judged for a lie, rather than to be judged on the truth. Mainly because people make up lies all the time, if I knew it wasn't true then who gave an "F", it didn't really matter what other people thought.
On a random Saturday night, we got dressed up, plastered our face with makeup and bright blue eyeliner, and went to the normal Casey Moores. The night was fun, until I got yelled at. I remember being told "Lauren don't you cry on me, don't you start crying...keep it together" For all I knew and my friend knew I was crying because I got yelled at. The tears wouldn't stop, then the yelping started. IN public with probably 200 people around. It wouldn't stop. I started yelling, screaming crying. The hot tears were rushing out of my eyes, I couldn't collect them in my hands fast enough. My face was wet, my chest was wet and I didn't know what the hell was going on. I was in a complete belligerent full on panic, freak out, watch out world here I come, melt down. I laid on the curb outside of Casey's while my friends hailed a cab. My poor friends had people coming up to them asking them what the hell they had done to me. I must have really freaked them out. We got in the cab and Kelly sat and held my head. It was pressed so hard into her chest that she still had my eye lash marks on her the next morning. I cried and cried and cried so hard, "She wasn't supposed to die, she wasn't supposed to die!" "Why, why, why??" When I got home, my friends carried me in, I started to throw up everywhere. Sobbing, sobbing, It felt so good to cry and sob to let it out and in front of someone. My friend asked me for one of my Valiums, I thought "I must really be freaking the shit out of her if she wants a Valium, I need to pull it together" I finished crying and throwing up and I crawled into bed. I know these two women were freaked out and didn't know what to do with me. It was probably as scary to them as it was to me. That or they were just fed up with the shit of it all. I don't really know and I am not sure I really want too.
The next day I woke up, my eyes swollen, my body ached and I was embarrassed. Really embarrassed. I had a sit down talk with my friend. "Lauren, I don't know how to help you anymore, I don't know what to do, you need to talk to someone, I will go with you, I will sit with you...I just don't know what to do" My original thoughts were this "All of you wanted me to be happy, all of you told me to go out, I became the party house, You don't know how to help me? I don't know how to help myself!, I sit here every freaking day and figure it out one foot at a time- YOU don't know how to help me?" Then my logical mind kicked in and I knew she was right. I knew what I was doing was not benefiting me or anyone else around me and it wasn't fair to do this to myself or my mom. She would be very very disappointed in me and she was probably aching for me, for us all.
The next day, I went to Hospice of the Valley, where my mom died. I told them I needed to talk to someone that I was NOT okay. The nurse there, said" I remember you, its been 6 months?" I said, "Its been nine" he said, "It took you 9 months to have a breakdown, wow?!" I said, "well a public breakdown." He set me up with a grievance counselor and that is where I started.
