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ratamusprimeeee · 8 years ago

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From Imploding to Exploding

Up until quite recently, my sources of stress have been, largely, internal. My appearance, my mental health, my development as a person, how to understand the guy I was seeing… all things that existed within the confines of my mind. Certainly, these concerns were exacerbated by outside forces, but the suffering was my own doing, in the end. That fact has since changed as of Monday.

On Monday, I received some of the most unsettling news to date: my friend committed suicide. Katie had been a close friend since 2015 (which is a long time for me, because I really don’t keep close friends), as was her horse, who passed just weeks before Katie did. There is no doubt in my mind that the loss of her dearest friend drove her to do this. I have never seen a person take the death of an animal the way Katie did. That horse was the beginning, middle, and (literally and figuratively) end of her existence. It was the kind of bond you saw in movies. Katie was dead the moment he died, but decayed for weeks afterward. She put up a valiant fight, the way she always did.

When Katie’s mother called me, she shared three extremely unsettling things in quick succession. First, Katie had left this planet by taking a gun to her head. Second, I was the last person to see Katie - I saw her just hours before she died. Third, she asked me to deliver the eulogy at Katie’s service on the basis of “Katie chose to see you on the last day of her life. Honestly, I think she waited days just to see you and say goodbye.” While I am honored to have been granted this task, the level of guilt and regret is approaching unbearable.

The last time I saw Katie, she bared her soul to me about our friendship. I came into Katie’s life at an extremely difficult time — her horse had become so dangerous that she could no longer ride him. She told me how she thought of ending her life then, because she felt that there was no hope for the two of them, until I came along. We worked tirelessly to put that animal back together, and succeeded. On Monday, she expressed to me how she could have never imagined what would happen between she and her partner, and that she felt that her life had reached its pinnacle… all of which she attributed to me. An incredible sentiment that I will never forget. What she spent the most time on was telling me that I was among the greatest friends she had ever had. She said that in addition to having a lot of fun together, I consistently demonstrated “outstanding values and morals,” which she ultimately applied to herself. Apparently, our friendship completely changed her outlook on life, people, and animals. Nevertheless, I cannot help but note that after the speech she gave me, she shot herself… my words and love could not save her a second time.

Like any other problem, I have adamantly refused to utter a word about this to anyone. I saw a person hours before they killed themselves, the guilt is ripping me apart, and I have sat here tight-lipped as ever. The only hint I have given the world has been deafening silence. My interest in social media is nonexistent. I could not care less about all of my favorite fitness icons and makeup gurus. My friends are even less relevant than normal. I simply do not care about interacting with other humans; isolating myself with my dogs has served as my sole source of comfort. Ke$ha has probably lost count of how many times I have sobbed into her fur (I certainly have). Even after opening my group texts, I have over 200 unanswered, unopened, text messages. My best friend, Mikey, who never texts me, has called me every day to ask if I am ready to talk about what happened (I told him I was going through a rough time, but was not up for discussing it). If someone doesn’t respond to a text message, a phone call is the next logical step if you really care, in my eyes.

It would be nice to possess the ability to confide in another person. The number of times I have fantasized about how comforting that act must be is unfathomable. I know I will tell Mikey, but my reasoning for rarely sharing anything personal rings true here: everyone will momentarily feel sorry for me, but they will not understand the depth of my pain. What is the point of putting myself out there if my words fall on deaf ears? When people share their darkness with me, I feel their pain. Call me self-righteous, but I do not feel that most people can understand the pain I feel, especially at this moment. How many people can say their friend committed suicide just hours after proclaiming how much they cherished them?

The next, much, much, smaller problem pertains to social media. After briefly seeing Katie on Monday, I worked out with my old manager, George. We got pizza after he kicked my ass in the gym. It was not until after I posted this on my Instagram story that I realized what the picture easily implied. Now, do not get me wrong, but the last thing I am concerned about is the opinion of others. Regardless, the “his and hers�� on the image strongly suggested it was some kind of romantic encounter. It did not occur to me how others could perceive it until I received a barrage of messages asking me who I was seeing. The guy I was seeing for the past four months, Matt, and I split last week, which a handful of people know, so this looks terrible. Who gets back on the horse less than a week after calling it quits with someone? Mentally, I ended things between Matt and I in February, when I accepted him for what he was. Even though I am past grieving the loss of someone who once meant something to me, the concept of just meeting new people that fast is flat out nauseating. Just slutty and embarrassing. Who is so desperate for attention or a distraction that they would do such a thing? Not I, but it sure looked like I was. (Ironically, almost every message I received about this picture was from some guy that was bitter about me not wanting to date them.)

Instagram failed me once again when I posted a quote that I found meaningful, but carelessly did not crop out my blog’s URL. After that stunt, I got even more messages from the most unsuspecting of characters. The number of people who had the gall to assume that my entire tumblr pertained to them was astounding. The kicker is that I have not spoken to the overwhelming majority of them since last year, or the year before that. Yes, some people who I had not spoken to in years honestly felt that I devoted a blog to how devastated I was about losing them. I did not tell a single one of them that I loved them, yet they truly believed that I was still devastated over our relationship. Amazing, and beyond erroneous. This blog is not dedicated to one single person. Each post I share relates to different people, memories, concepts… the reason I do not share my blog with most is for this very reason. People are so narcissistic that they think my world revolves around them.

When I tried to comprehend how these individuals could possibly believe that there were thousands of pages devoted to them, I had to acknowledge that I was part of the problem. In my efforts to treat people as I wished to be treated, I had a propensity for making others (especially guys) feel that my universe placed them at the center of it. False, false, false. I will always be at the center of my own universe. Still, I had a way of instilling the thought that they were my sun, moon, and stars. I consciously did it to make them feel extremely special, because I love feeling special. My actions were the result of my motivation — to feel special.

I will concede that a good chunk of this blog is about a guy that I have not seen in years, but speak to every few months, David. David does not have social media, so I am not worried about him seeing this post. However, it is important to note that I am not weeping over the loss of David whatsoever. The guy ultimately drove me insane. However, before we reached that point, he was everything I wanted in another person. A walking fantasy. Naturally, it did not work out, but none of that changed how I felt. The feelings he stirred up within me were so real. I hadn’t felt that kind of passion since one of my college boyfriends. A lot of things I see on Tumblr remind me of the feelings I experienced, not of who David was as a person. Like anyone else, he was extremely flawed. At the end of it, he really, really hurt me. I will never forget the physical anguish I felt during the months that followed — vomiting when I got an inkling that he was seeing another girl, waking up panicked from nightmares… a good chunk of 2015 was comprised of utter despair, but I have not repeated my mistakes since then, which is the most important part.

As a serial monogamist, I have dated a lot of people. Although few of them elicited a strong emotional response, certain words strung together can remind me of them, or at least our time together. I am “over” each and every one of them; I happen to move on unbelievably fast as a defense mechanism… I refuse to lose sleep over anything that is not entirely mutual. Those girls that cry over guys make me sick — not because I think less of them, but because I have done that twice (David and that college boyfriend, Tony), and I vowed to never do it again. I will never allow another person to get such a hold of me that their absence will destroy me. The only way that rule could ever be broken would be when I meet the man I am going to spend the rest of my life with. As far as I am concerned, everyone else on the list of guys I have dated never really cared about me. (Most guys do not know how to care about another person until their late thirties, I have found.)

In short, if you are a guy that I previously dated: please get off your high horse. Yes, I know you are sad that you lost me, and yes, I forgive you for your previous transgressions. If you are ever stuck on the side of the road, call me. Please do not take this post as a personal attack… I seek only to clarify any misconceptions.

On a positive note, amidst my debilitating depression and enervated state, SoulCycle has taken a turn for the better. On Wednesday, I kicked myself to class, seeking relief through sweat and motivational thoughts. Kaley has dragged me, kicking and screaming, to the front row of her classes. The front row in a SoulCycle class comes with immense pressure to perform perfectly. However, in order to really push myself in class, I have sacrificed perfection, and opted to hide in the back for the past six months. Through struggle, the mind and body will adapt and blossom.

People always say that the only time you should put yourself in the front row is when an instructor puts you there. Their opinion is the prerequisite to moving up to center stage. As much as riders look at the instructor on the podium, they look to the front row for inspiration, that the seemingly impossible demands of the instructor are, in fact, doable.

For the past month, I have accepted the email before class, stating that Kaley had taken it upon herself to move my bike. Usually, she puts me on one of the bikes that are in the front, close to the center (the closer to the center you go, the more attention you receive from other riders), but far enough for me to not panic. On Wednesday, the girl that normally rides on bike 7 (front and center) cancelled. The arguably “most important” bike in the room was unoccupied. Strangely enough, I thought I had appeased Kaley by booking bike 5, where she usually plops my reluctant ass. As always, once you meet the standard of another person, they raise the bar and demand more, and Kaley openly admits to being demanding. Just as I had finished setting up my bike, Kaley casually walked into the room, beaming as usual, and pointed at bike 7. Disputing the “request” was futile, so off I went.

Class was difficult, and I looked to the best rider in the room, sitting next to me, for motivation when I felt myself growing weak. The message Kaley has been preaching as of late is “be more”. Be more than what you were yesterday, be more than the bare minimum, be more than what people expect. Rise to the occasion, blow people away, surprise yourself. On Wednesday, especially, it was exactly what I needed to hear to get through those 45 minutes. I would be lying if I said I performed perfectly. The bike needed to be adjusted; the wheel quickly went from light to extremely heavy, rendering it rather difficult to keep turning up the resistance as instructors command. Still, I did my best and aspired to maintain a positive attitude. At the end of the ordeal, when I was feeling a little defeated, Kaley said, “I’m sure many of you know Annie, who rode on bike 7. For months, I have been asking her to move her up to the front row. For the past month, when it dawned upon me that she wasn’t going to do it herself, I resorted to moving her myself. She rides the bike like a motherfucker, and it is imperative that everyone see that kind of ride. Playing it safe won’t get any of you where you want to be. You have goals and I have goals for you. Annie is diligently working towards her goals, and now I am pushing her to achieve my goals for her. I promise to push each and every one of you to that point if you allow me. Annie is an incredible source of light in this room. All of you know she can get the whole room screaming. When you talk to her, her dry humor will leave you in stitches. She is more than infectious. So, I ask that all of us support her and encourage her to have faith in herself. I want all of you to look at this girl that wants to hide and pretend she is not amazing, and believe in her. When we believe in each other, the room changes.”

I’m such a sap that I had to hold back tears. The fact that she chose to speak so highly of me moved me the same way that Katie moved me on Monday. To know that other people love, accept, and support me is all I could ever ask for, especially now. In no way am I seeking to make Katie’s suicide about me. I am merely trying to cope with the loss and strengthen myself. Despite everything, I am trying to “be more” every day… even when all I want to do is cut and drink. At this juncture, I am not sure what the future holds for me. I hope I do not cave into bad habits.

#suicide

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