Cleaning Out My Closet

Ok... so let's try this again. I have written a couple paragraphs on two different topics and then I've deleted it all.

This is my space... where I can dream, and vent, and talk about the things I want and think are important. I know this is public, but I feel like this is a way for me to let the world see my story... The reasons why I am the way I am...
So let's start with me telling my story of how my life changed...

It was an ordinary day, at the little hometown pharmacy I worked at for quite some time. We ran the pharmacy six days a week, just the two of us. Christina was the pharmacist, and I was her only technician. The sky was black, and it smelled like rain. I remember waking up that morning knowing it was going to be a gloomy day. I wasn't excepting to receive the worst news I have ever been given in my life to date. The phone rang, and before the first ring was over my pharmacist had answered the call.

Suddenly the air was stale in the store. My boss looked at me over her shoulder, and then went back to her phone call. All I could hear was "Are you ok?" and then she said "I understand, I'll tell her." She hung up the phone seconds later. My eyes still locked on hers, she walked over to me and rested her hand on my shoulder. I didn't want to listen to the words Christina was about to tell me. "That was your mom. Your father passed away early this morning" she said with tears in her eyes. I fell to the ground, not able to catch the last breath in my body.

I felt lifeless. My whole world stopped for that very moment. No prescriptions were being filled, the phone wasn't getting answered, and customers were giving us a minute to recollect. For the next few minutes, Christina and I shared a life changing experience. She held me, while I fell apart in her arms knowing that the world doesn't pause for someone's misfortune. I picked myself up off the floor and tried to forget everything that had just happened. Knowing my heart was crushed and my ability to function normally was temporally scarred, I was sent home until further notice.

The rest of that darkened day seemed to last for an eternity. The phone kept alerting me of all the missed calls and text messages I had received. Word travels fast I assumed. Who in their right mind wants to talk about their daddy never coming back, and who cares if anyone had sympathy for me. I went running in the pouring rain, thankful my tears were camouflaged. Shortly after I returned, I had to pack for the next few days of emptiness I was about to encounter. My flight to Colorado left at 6 am the following morning. I didn't have the slightest idea on what to wear to my dad's funeral. I hadn't ever planned on picking out an outfit for that tragic day.

I arrived in beautiful Colorado, except this time I couldn't see its beauty. A whole 24 hour period hadn't passed yet, and it only made my reality feel like a dream. My family was waiting at the funeral home to start making arrangements.

I sang at his funeral October 20^th, 2006. I didn't think I would be able to get the words out, but I managed. I couldn't keep my eyes off that casket draped with the American Flag. My little brother couldn't handle it. He left as soon as I finished the song to go vomit in the parking lot. My other siblings and I sat in disbelief that our dad was taken from us. After all the guests had left, it was time to let go of his body. He was now just a memory, and a part of each of us that will forever live on in our hearts. I can't begin to tell you the things I remember from that day… the smell of his body… the coldness… how it didn't even look like him.

This was only the beginning…

I locked myself in my room… I barely would leave for days. I had to go back to work in order to pay my bills… but I was only physically there. Finally a few friends talked me into going out with them… And that turned me into a new way to deal with my pain. I drank. I drank. And then I really did drink some more. I remember one day I showed up to work and Christina (My boss) took me outside behind the building and told me to scream. She said she wouldn't let me back in until I screamed as loud as I could. I refused over and over again. She told me she would send me home if I didn't… And she did. I remember throwing up all the way home in a walmart bag I had in my car… (Yes TMI, but the emotion was so real) This is the turning point that I started my downfall to rock bottom. I did horrible things, I was very irresponsible… and I lost so many people who were very important to me. My mom had to walk on eggshells… I was sooo mean to her. She was the only person around that I could be mean to. I searched for support groups… I was either too young, too old, my dad died unexpectantly and wasn't on hospice, or I was the wrong color. A white female in her 20's fell through the crack when it came to free counseling. I couldn't afford to go somewhere and talk to someone. I finally found the grief and share program at New Hope Church. I went a few times. I felt like I didn't belong there because people had worse stories of loss. Children that passed, spouses of 50+ years, murdered siblings… so I stopped going. Again I felt on my own. I cashed a $700 paycheck… which was all I had those days living paycheck to paycheck… and went to the bar, and somehow lost everything that night. A friend of mine called my mom… I was so angry that my mom called me and was worried that I broke my phone. I was a mess… going nowhere fast. You are probably thinking "why is she telling me all this"… The truth is I think this blog is for me. I need to let this go. You won't find me shedding a tear. I feel like I would be letting myself slip. Crying isn't ever going to bring him back, or change the person I became that day.

The turning point… February 14^th, 2007… 4 months later, I made a choice to put myself back together. I remember sitting in my room, telling myself that this was not the person I was… and I refused to continue on this path. Death is the only thing that is keeping us alive. So from that day forward I accepted that my dad was gone.

A year later… My step sister committed suicide in my hometown and my grandfather joined my dad. Grief and loss seemed to becoming a part of my future, but I remained strong. I shed a few tears as my goodbye, but that was it.

I'm ending on this note… I am not writing this for anyone to feel sorry for me. I am just letting go and giving myself a fresh start. I want to look at my scars head on. I am not afraid of falling down… because you can bet your last dollar that I will get right back up. Don't be so quick to judge someone… because we are all fighting our own battles.