Grief, sometimes it can strike you when you least expect it. You’re always aware of whoever you have lost and you’re aware that you won’t see them again, but every now and again your mind reminds you of the hurt, pain and sadness you suffered during the process. I think that’s why grief is so painful at the start; you’re not used to them not being there. And when the grief doesn’t process naturally, that’s when the pain stays with you. You’re in so much pain but they aren’t there to offer comfort, laughter or advice. I think that’s why it can feel so lonely at times because that one person isn’t there. You can’t reach them on the phone or wait for them to come home because it’s just not going to happen, it’s useless.
There was a point during my grief where I was so mad at my dad for dying. How could he leave us so suddenly? People would offer comfort by saying that he was watching over us, but how could he watch us go through so much pain that he caused? It was easier to be mad at him than to let reality hit me and admit that I missed him and that I was going to miss him for the rest of my life. So then I began to hate myself. During my dad’s heart attack I hated myself for not doing more to help the situation. I hated myself for just standing there screaming and crying for him, and this hatred went on for many many years. I hated the world I lived in. Seeing others who still had the luck of having both parents and watching them take it for granted filled me with rage. Seeing and hearing about these criminals who still got to live despite the fact that they probably didn’t deserve to, I hated it. Why? Why was my dad gone? A man who loved everyone in his life, who had so much to teach his two children and so much to witness of them growing up. A man who could brighten up anyone’s darkest days and he had so much to give, why him?
I’ve just finished watching Euphoria season 2 and I’ve been able to relate to Rue’s struggles quite heavily. Not so much the drugs, I turned to alcohol more than I turned to drugs, but the feelings of hatred towards yourself. The feeling of not understanding why I was still deeply caught up in my dads death but everyone else seemed to be moving on just fine. I gave my mum a hard time for a while. Initially it was out of fear because I lost my dad so suddenly, I didn’t want to get close to her and then have her taken away from me without notice. Then I just lost control, mostly with my drinking and she always picked up the pieces. I couldn’t stop though, I could see the strain it was putting on all of my relationships with others and during the sober days I would go back to hating myself because I could see, I knew what I was doing was pushing people but I just couldn’t stop. And I would look at the genuine people in my life and wonder how and why they were sticking by me? I didn’t feel like I was a loving person, I wasn’t happy, I was always quiet and I was always exhausted. The only time I seemed to have much go about me was when I was drinking. But even then there was a fine line between being a good drunk and a bad drunk, and I quite often crossed the line.
Towards the end of the season 2 final episode Rue and Lexi are sat down chatting about their dads. Rue is telling Lexi how after her dads death people would say to her that her dad died for a reason and she goes on to say how much it used to piss her off. But she then goes on to say that she now sees it in a different light and how she has to give her dads death meaning, she has to create her own reason.
I think this is what I did with my blog, I always think this is why my blog means so much to me. I was around 13-14 years old when I attempted suicide, and even though I didn’t go through with it, I was still suicidal for a lot of years after. I still thought about killing myself, I still had a voice in my head telling me why I should because I had no reason to live. To the outside world I still had a lot to give but to me, I had nothing. I had no happiness, hope or joy. I had no motivation, no fulfilment I had nothing to give to others or myself. What was the point? When I had my head under the water it was genuinely the most peace and comfort I had felt since my dad died, and I was ready to just go, I wanted it, but then a flashback of my mum and brother on the day dad died came into my head and I shot up out of the water. I couldn’t hurt them like that again, not on purpose and not because I was in pain. Because they were also in pain, it seemed so unfair. We hadn’t had Barney for that long so how could I just leave him. He wouldn’t understand, and he wouldn’t understand what was going on with my mum and my brother either. I think my family is what stopped me.
It took over 10 years for me to crack and admit that I wanted and needed help. I began to write not long after I started working on processing my dads death. I was unemployed and the only thing that got me out of the house was my horse and the occasional visit to a friend. As therapy went on I was beginning to notice changes in my way of thinking, personality, energy levels, likes and dislikes, so when I started writing, I was writing about everything that I was learning in therapy and I was writing about my life as though it’s two very distinct parts. To me I have the Emma before therapy and the Emma after which are two very different people in every way you could think. I could see the difference and it amazed me (it still does). I had to write about it, I had to let others know that life is honestly not as terrible as our minds can make us believe. It’s all about how you perceive it.
My blog gave me purpose; it gave me meaning and motivation. It gave me a reason to go through all the shit life has thrown at me and come out on the other side stronger and wiser. I believe that is my reason to my dad’s death. To provide something for others out there who might be going through the same or feeling similar.
Thank you Euphoria for helping me realise this.
I’m always just a message away.
Sending so much love to you all,