Again.

These two pictures were taken on April 20, 2013. Wake up. So excited. Morgan is running in the Color Me Rad 5K! Gonna be fun. Hang out after. Stop for chick fil a. Home to change clothes and grab the dog. Headed to NoVa to see my Dad and spend the night with him. It's Manchester Earth Day. Want to stay in RVA and have fun. Dad has been crazy-ish again lately. 95 north. Quantico exit. Phone rings. It's the little brother.

Me: "cellos, violins and violas!"

Ryan: "Bear....Dad died...."

Me: "no no, I'm only 20 mins away"

Again.

I start crying and hit the steering wheel and yell about why do people keep dying without me being able to say good bye? Cry about why this is happening again. First Andrew and now Dad. Morgan offers to drive but I know it'll be worse for me to sit and not do anything. We get to Dad's house and he's still in his bed. Waiting for the funeral home to come to take his body. Ryan and I go in and out of the house to sit with him or look around or freak out. I take 3 of Dads pain killers. Choke them back and know that within an hour, I'll be ok. We talk with neighbors, we keep crying. I read him a blog entry that I wrote knowing he was not going to be with us that much longer. Oxy working through my system, I can handle this now. I have to continue on this perceived path of strength. Only losing it when I'm alone or wasted. Mostly when I'm wasted. Back to Richmond to drop off the dog, get my stuff and head back up to plan another funeral. The night of the viewing we go out with our Uncles. I end up so wasted that I pick a fight with my little brother at the bar. We stayed at his house that night and he said to his wife that night that if I was awake and he had to see me when he got home he wasn't sure how it would go. Lucky for him, I was completely passed out. Funeral time. Eyes glassy. Reeking of whatever I drank the night before. My body is tired from being so drunk. I don't want to be there. I don't want to do this again. We just did this 6mos ago. Funeral is finished, people are coming over to the house. I apologize to Ryan and tell myself not to do it again. I drink a little more slowly that day but still end up drunk...I had enough sense to say I needed to go to bed instead of stay awake and try to keep it together. Got my benzos filled in March - couldn't be responsible with them and just use them for sleep like I'm supposed to. Had to not feel. This kept going until 12 days ago. I didn't realize how much I was using all kinds of things to get by. I didn't realize that my actions when wasted, and also when sober, were ruining my relationship. Was she perfect? No. Was she doing all of the extra that I was doing? No. Here we are a year and a half later. I see it now. I see the path of all of this. Before all of this, sure I got drunk...and sometimes I was mean, but I feel like it intensified and became more frequent after all of this. It feels good in a way to be totally conscious of all that I've done. Not clouded. Honest with myself and folks around me. I've done a lot. Too much. Reckless and dangerous. I'm tired of trying to be tough. This doesn't get to define me anymore. I'm making a new path. 

Stop.

This picture was taken of Morgan and me on the night before everything stopped. We went to my Moms house that day - October 20, 2012. She helped me braid my hair that morning because I wanted double braids for fall time. We hung out, relatively uneventful yet relaxing day. We came home and went to sleep. I woke up around 4:30am and saw that my Dad was calling me. Assuming he was just awake and calling to ask me a nonsense question or tell me what he was watching on tv, I ignored it. I looked to see if he left a voice mail and noticed I had 30+ missed calls. My little brother, my older brothers room mates and friends, my Dad...a few texts. I called my Dad back thinking he would tell me Andrew (my older brother) was in the hospital. He wouldn't tell me what was wrong until I woke Morgan up and put him on speaker phone. 

Me: "ok dad what's going on?"

Dad: "is Morgan awake?"

Morgan: "hey pops, I'm here" 

Me: "ok Dad what's wrong?"

Dad: "Andrew's dead."

Stop.

Everything stopped. I didn't know what to say. I cried. Of course I cried. I couldn't sleep. I called my Mom...or maybe I called Ryan (my little brother) first....I don't remember. I remember saying to my Mom "Mom, Andrew's gone" and her flatly saying "I know baby." Ryan was sobbing. I stayed awake in to that day. While we were at Mom's the day before, Andrew called repeatedly trying to get my Mom to wire him money like she had been doing. She told him several times that she couldn't leave because we were there. When we left, she wired him money. 

I got drunk that day and called everyone I knew. And everyone I knew called me. I drank several bottles of champagne because I wanted mimosas. Kylee brought over bagels. My new furniture was delivered and I was so wasted that Morgan had to tell them where to put it. 

That is the day everything stopped. If I could rewind my life and go back to the moment in this picture, I would. My whole family was still alive. Morgan and I were still together. I wasn't doing the dumb shit I started doing afterwards. Fast forward a year and a half later...and here I am working very very hard to not be that person anymore. Hopefully so there can be some reconciliation with Morgan, but also because I can't live like that anymore. There's something to be said for getting drunk and having a good time. There's quite another to be said for getting wasted in an effort to just not feel. Or to feel normal. Or to be able to sleep. Or to be able to cry. As a result of never having dealt with the shit...the shit started to deal with me. 12 days I haven't gotten drunk or taken anything to alter my mentals. This is the hardest I've ever looked at myself. It is uncomfortable and I am sad a lot and I don't really like it....but it has to be done because I want to start living again. I don't want to just exist. I want to be the happy person I used to be. Not worn down from being drunk or sad because I don't feel good about myself or wanting to hide under my sweats all the time. I am trying so hard - so so hard....and so far it is working and although the pain is awful in my heart and I am realizing all the different layers on which I was unhappy, it's been an absolutely eye opening experience. I am more aware of my fucked up coping skills and my shitty behavior than I've ever been. 

I want to press play.