A Broken Boston

Highway on Fire

On my way back home yesterday a portion of the 495 was on fire. The middle of the highway was literally on fire. Cars moved by slowly, smoke rushed into every single car and we drove away, as if nothing was wrong.

That’s the state Massachusetts is in right now.

I remember thinking what is happening to Massachusetts. This morning I woke up at 6 AM, all the radio stations could talk about was the death of one of the bombers and the escape of his brothers (don’t ask me how someone can escape once you found them). Bombs were apparently going off in certain places, the cops were triggering bombs to make sure the area was secure, it was crazy. Yet we all drove to work, to school to wherever, as if nothing was happening. It wasn’t until a few moments ago until I discovered why.

 It’s something I’ve done my entire life.

We’re dissociating ourselves from this situation, like I did throughout my life. It’s not something you think about, but rather something that happens on its own without the person realizing its happening. You look into your life from the third person, as if you’re not you, and you move on with your life. I can’t be 100% sure, I’m no psychologist, but I’m pretty sure that’s what’s happening. I wonder if every war is like that, or every attack.

Blocked memories returning

Someday those memories will come back; I pray for everyone’s sakes that it’s sooner rather than later. I’ve blocked everything out for years, dissociated myself for 20 years, and look at me now. When everything came back all at once it literally broke me. I hope it doesn’t break Boston like my life has broken me.

Getting There

Courtesy of v1.brucedale.com

In a post I posted about a month ago I explained how to get your life back together. Well, I lied, because like is really not that easy. At that moment I thought it was, I was feeling better after my wonderful nervous breakdown and things seemingly were getting back together. Boy was I wrong! It took me 36 days to start sleeping on my bed again, the thought of it terrified me, and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t sleep there. In fact I was terrified of half of my room, and would rarely cross over to the other side.

Why? You might ask.

Well it’s complicated, it’s a mixture of bad memories and dreams, very terrible memories and dreams that trigger those memories and I was left petrified. It took me about two weeks after that post to finally realize what was wrong. My barriers, my wonderful glass barriers shattered and everything I’ve held back/blocked out came rushing back in.

It’s funny because before I realized what had happened I just thought I was going insane. I went from being absolutely fine to suicidal in less than a day. I skipped depression, which was very strange. I’m used to entering depression, chilling there for a while, and then something big happens and I become a little bit depressed, give up on the world and then actually want to kill myself. I skipped everything and nearly killed myself that night, who knew razors were so hard to take off.

About two weeks later I got a bit better, by telling myself that I’m an idiot and I shouldn’t be feeling as bad as I was. Surprisingly that helped, and then went and saw my therapist.

Things gradually got better after that. My therapist is worried I’m going to kill myself, and its weird having someone actually worry. I’m worried I won’t survive Jordan, there’s a 75% chance I’ll kill myself in the airport, 20% I’ll kill myself sometime there, and 5% I’ll be fine. My therapist is also worried about this.

So moral of the story, don’t ever underestimate mental health, and no one actually knows anything about mental health. For gods sake I’ve been either depressed or suicidal for over a third of my life and I still barely understand it.

Let’s face it, we’re kind of screwed if we try dealing with this on our own. Get help, get a therapist, trust me they’re actually good people.