Who doesn’t think about death sometimes
Whether there is truly a heaven and/or a hell
If there’s really a bright light,
If you’ll see your ‘loved ones’ again,
Or if it’s really just lights out…
Like an eternal sleep kinda thing.
  
Being the capricious crazyhead that I can be,
I think different things at different times.
Sometimes I find myself fascinated by the subject,
Especially when I have an acute flair-up from my chronic trauma brain
And I’m unable to find even a moment of relief, mentally or physically.
It’s in those moments I wonder what it’s like to be ‘dead’.

No one really knows, right?
No one comes back after dying and says
“Hey – I was dead for 3 days and death is like club med!”
No one ever gets a postcard from someone who died that reads,
“It’s hot ~ bring a fan."
You don’t get an itinerary emailed to you a week prior to your death.
… there’s nothing ‘helpful’ so you can be ‘prepared’.

Late night conversation between the sane me and the crazy brain:
Crazybrain:  Sometimes I think I’d like to die because I just need it to stop.
Sane Me: What do you think it’s like after you die?
Crazybrain:  Quiet…nothing. I don’t really believe in reincarnation (I don’t think) but I can’t imagine death is worse than living like this.
Sane Me: But you don’t know that…what if death is worse than life? What if it’s worse?
Crazybrain:  I don’t think it’s worse. (at this point, Crazybrain goes way off into left field, as she often does…) I sometimes think my dog is my grandfather reincarnated. He seems really sensitive to my feelings and always tries to comfort me when I’m sad or troubled. (of course, this statement was made AFTER Crazybrain just said that she didn’t think she believed in reincarnation. Told ya ~ Crazybrain’s thinking pattern can sometimes be a bit erratic.)
Sane Me:  …Yeah, pets are sensitive to human emotions.

So last night I was once again contemplating what it’s like to be dead
(this was after cleaning my closet and finding a bottle of vicodin left over from some injury)
~ no ~ I did not take the vicodin.
Could death be worse than living like this
It strikes me funny:
The quality of life after death?
Is there a QUALITY of LIFE after death?
Or, are you just “dead”.

In my real life I tend to pull inside myself when I find myself in a place of fear or pain; much like a turtle hiding inside her shell when she feels threatened. It’s difficult for me to reach out to someone for help, or even just for ‘company’. I don’t feel that way “here” ~ for a couple of reasons, there is, of course, the anonymity factor, but also because I think most people who ‘read’ my writings feel and struggle with much of the same things I do. In my real life that is not the case.

I am encouraged by others to share with people…share the truth. I am told that if I shared the truth with them…not like the gross explicit details of what is running rampant through my crazy brain, but just when things trigger a past memory for me and it how it makes me feel. And without even thinking about it, I shout, “No way! I don’t want them to know!” It’s hard to share the bad things in real life with real life people because I don’t want them to see me the way I see myself; weak and gross and ***** and depressed. I want them to see the Nita that I’ve always been….because I’m embarrassed of the other “nitas”. And they are to be kept in the dark, as they have always been.

Therapy sessions are very difficult because we continued to talk about the ‘hard stuff’ the stuff I don’t talk about and I pushed myself to share more of the bad stuff with than I ever have before. I think I push myself because I want to feel better so badly that I just want to spew it all out of me so “we” can figure out how to deal with it so there is less confusion and craziness and fighting inside my head. But my plan kind of back-fires on me because there is even more craziness and fighting…voices screaming that we shared too much with the therapist. Embarrassment, shame, fear, pain…all pummeled me until I wanted to cut the voices right out of my brain! What was I thinking? Why did I tell him that? What he must think of me now! *******! Now I can never go back there he knows way too much! And this continuous tape recorder does not stop.

I have text messages and voice mail messages and emails from friends and I cannot answer any of them because I cannot let anyone know how much pain I am in and how much shame I feel from therapy and my pathetic life.  But then slowly, I start to respond to some of the emails and text messages, apologizing for my lack of response but that I wasn't really in a place to talk. And I realized that I do have friends who love me and would be there for me, if I would let them… I respond to one friend and told her I wasn’t in a good place so I couldn’t respond to her then…and she said, “That’s when you walk up to me for a hug and know that I am here for you always.”

I have some really good friends out there…but you know what still holds me back from reaching out to them? That voice inside who says, “Nita, they don’t KNOW the truth about you. That’s why they love you. If they knew the truth they would surely run away…just as you have run away from yourself for so many years…” and so I do not respond to any of them.

Do you know what it's like to feel trapped? That no matter where you turn there is no way out. The light is gradually ****** out of your life. You live in darkness. At first you are afraid of the dark and the agony, but after a while you get used to it. No matter where you turned, you find only pain and abandonment. And at first you find this unsettling you’re human and you crave love and connection. But as time passes you begin to realize that you are undeserving of this bond, and you become a shell with no soul. You no longer exist; you simply drift from moment to moment trying to keep some semblance of sanity. Certain people take notice, but fear overwhelms you and you remain silent. They cannot be trusted. No one can be trusted.

You were little, though in reality you were never allowed to be so, and you realized that is just isn't worth it. It is not worth the pain and heartache - and so you wait....in silence. You do what is expected of you and expect nothing of anyone else. It hurts more than anyone will ever know.*

You put up a front for show. You try to shield others from this darkness You were always a pawn in a sick and twisted game; you still are. Your pain does not matter, you do not matter. You become what he wants you to be. And nothing else. You give in to his commands. Partially out of fear but also because you no longer care, and it’s all you’ve ever known. You realized early on that your life is meaningless. You are an object, void of emotion or need. Evil things are said and done, and this is their warped vision of fun. You must deserve this. You must be inherently evil because a kind and gracious God would not allow this to happen. Time passes.......you are in need of guidance but too afraid to ask.

The nightmares from the past still linger, bleeding into your life now. Still, you wait, in silence. Still, you live in fear. There is too much confusion and chaos in your head. You want to scream, but you cry instead.

*It is the same now as it was then - crying - alone, lying bleeding on the cold floor. Praying for it all to end. Praying for it to be over. Praying to a God who never heard you then, the God who does not hear you now.