how am i coping

How am I coping? — is what the handsome man at the store asked the other night. I told him I talk about things to friends (not really because I don’t want to burn them out; also sometimes don’t feel like repeating myself) and that I intended on writing about it all on FB. But this is how my coping has gone so far in actuality.

Mom asks: “How are you doing?”

Me: “IDK”

Mom: “What do you mean you don’t know? Who else would know aside from you?”

Me: *In my head: Well, fuck it, mom, just stop fucking asking then…

I finally explained to her that I didn’t know what to say. That several people had asked that question and I honestly didn’t know what they wanted from me. It was like pressuring me for an acceptable response. I DON’T KNOW how I am doing. I have NEVER experienced anything like this before. But, more importantly, what is anyone going to do with the information? What can you do?

Tuesday, October 25, 2016 evening/night

I cried. Cried. Cried. Looked on the internet for information, news articles, clips, photos. I had not ONE photo of him. Never thought to take any.

A family member comforted me by passing me tissues, hugging me, rubbing my back, getting me water. Another family member stood in my doorway and told me stories of people who had died unexpectedly in their lifetime. Coincidentally, This family member had heard about the accident over the weekend from a coworker…before the death. They didn’t know it was MY friend, Love. And they knew Love. Everyone in my family knows Love because they had seen him many times, spoken to him, maybe even interacted on a basic level.

I texted a couple of friends and family members. I was in complete disbelief. A co-worker called to hear me sobbing and she immediately knew who I had lost though I never really spoke. I had spent many days at work and at home telling her about my adventures with Love. My mom called me back and I told her. She apologized from the depths of her heart. She said it hit her harder later on when she had flashbacks of Love’s awkward self coming into the house early every morning while she was half sleep on my couch during her 2 week vacation. The dog always tried to bark at him, even after what seemed like 200 visits.

I woke up crying throughout the night. I prayed for him to come to me. I told him I loved him, forever, just like we had long since established. I couldn’t sleep. I was nauseous. I hadn’t eaten since the birthday breakfast that morning. I envisioned him. I tried to feel him.

The next morning, I wished I would die. Not that I would kill myself. I just wished to be wherever Love was. I no longer feared death but I did fear leaving life/the living in a mess. I already was suffering from depression (and Love had lifted me out of it over the summer), so I knew this could be the literal nail in the coffin for me. I called my employee benefit EAP and asked for a counselor over the phone. I spoke to the counselor for about 40 minutes, sobbing. I was hoping she wouldn’t say anything about Jesus or God because my sadness was going to turn into anger and I knew I would hang up or curse her out.

It was hard to explain who Love was to me and I hadn’t ever thought about how I would communicate this to others. It felt slightly embarrassing — but not really. I was hesitant. What is a label anyway? But I had to come up with something because it was the only way to help people to understand why I was so broken about this. This was not grandma.

The counselor gave me some helpful tools, like maybe selecting a certain part of the day where I could just let it all out. Or gathering some of his things, things that reminded me of him (most difficult task in the world) and putting it in a box that I could come to and grieve over him during whatever time I select. But the best piece she said was to get a locket and put his picture in it, and just wear it. That’s simple. Wait, I had no picture of him. Everything was in my head.

She referred me to some counselors in my area (not necessary, I already had one) and told me to call EAP back if I needed. Did I feel better? Maybe.

I tried to make an appointment with my therapist — someone I had been seeing for more than one year. Someone I had stopped seeing and told her I didn’t need counseling over the summer, because of Love. But when I called, it was too early, and I left a message sobbing, begging for an emergency appointment. I called later and the person who answered the phone said there were no appointments for that day. Okay, this is when I really wanted to die.

So, I cried, cried, got tired of crying. Wanted the tears to stop. Wanted Love to present himself. Wanted answers to all the cryptic shit he used to say to me. Wanted to know if Love knew his death was coming and wondered if that was why he was so strange, at times. Was mad at Love for bringing me so high, and then leaving me so low. Wished none of it had ever happened. Wished that he was just that dude I used to mess with like in the beginning.

Later a different person from my counselor’s office called to tell me that they received the voicemail I had left, and to come right in. Well thank goodness. I went in and poured my heart out. It was a lot, because I had never told her about Love, only that Love existed and was my LIFE…I had had the time of my life with him over the summer. He was my EVERYTHING.