Sitting here in my house.......In my chair at the computer. I'm video gamed out, I'm tired. I sit and I do alot of soul searching. Wonder why it is, how I am the way I am. I suffer from depression, post traumatic stress disorder, piggy backed with anxiety. That is my official "diagnosis" If you will.
But I search deep within and realize it's so much more. I'm plagued with guilt. Guilt from so much..........But mostly I think from Brett dying. After he died, I changed. Changed drastically. Who wouldn't? But after that my life just seemed to go wrong. Everything wrong. But, what you don't know is I constantly tell myself that I deserve this. I deserve this bad stuff.
When Brett got sick.....there was a good couple months or so where his leg hurt. We laughed at him, teased him.........When he got to where he was taking more than 5 aspirin at a time and the pain wasn't going away.....I suddenly knew something wasn't right. I waited til Thursday to pick up my check and took him to the Dr.
Fast forward til now......I'm scrubbing my hands every hour, disinfecting stuff. Afraid of getting sick.
The realization hits me........I blame myself for him dying, because I should have known. I SHOULD Have known!!!!!!!!!!!! I have a wealth of knowledge now on diseases, cancer, what have you. Because I won't make the same mistake again.
But, deep inside I believe I deserve every bad thing coming my way because I could've taken him to the Dr. earlier. Instead we teased him. Real life kicks in and says Di you were only a kid.........but then my brain says, I should've known.
On the day Brett died, I didn't want to go in the room to see him. My mom kept saying "you need to go, you need to go, you will regret it for the rest of your life if you don't"
I regret going in most of all. Being left alone with his body. When I close my eyes I see his face, how the life was sucked out of him and you could tell that his spirit wasn't there anymore. Just a shell and his soul had moved on. I wish I would have never of gone.
Secretly deep inside, I wish that I would have never met him. Never. Sometimes I hate him. All the chemo, all the protocals, the surgery, the dying. All changed my life and changed me into someone I hate. Someone I can't run from. Stuck with myself and I can't hide. I fear medicine because I saw what medicine did to him. That whole situation screwed me up so badly.
I want to like myself. I want to forgive myself, but I don't know how. I want to believe that I am worthy of good things, worthy of a good life. Instead all I can do is see how much time I have truly wasted and how much of a failure I am.