Imagine the worst moment of your life, whatever that might be, however long it might have (or be) lasting. Imagine now being forced to relive various aspects of it seemingly at random for months without end.
That is my corona/2020 experience.
And so on the edge of 6 years since Cam died, this is what has defined my life for the most part of recent history.
Constant cleaning.
Isolation.
Abandonment.
Flashbacks/nightmares.
One of the problems is that PTSD has created a circus mirror that is particularly bendy the more I am by myself. And so when I notice it start to bend I try and make sure I don't have too much alone time. But sometimes things come up for people and so even with well intent I end up alone. And also unbending the mirror is exhausting. On top of the inevitable march of time towards anniversaries, it's just too much right now.
Camz would not be happy with how I have been dealing with things the past couple weeks. . . she would be realistic about it and give me some benefit of the doubt but also she would sit me down and tell me when and where I'm being a crazy person. But I don't have her here to do that for me. Or to lay my head on her lap and just not worry about words or talking but just focus on being. Or to listen to her problems and celebrations so that I'm not just wrapped up in my own head. Or to get away and just be together and enjoy the experiences of life.
Six years. It's an eternity and it's yesterday. Whether I want to or not I am in that hospital bed next to her, listening to her breathing slow more and more until the final rattle. I'm a couple days before she got to see everybody and give her assignments, wailing and hating that I'm wailing in front of her while she's contemplating death and her comforting me instead. I'm several months out, making phone calls and texts to people who have apparently gotten to a point where my grief is too great for them to bear anymore, but instead of telling me that, they just. . . disappear.
I'm tired.
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