I have a confession to make. I’m not as strong as you think I am. Really, I’m not. I’m a big old chicken.
I just can’t do it. I literally made myself sick yesterday because I just can’t do it. What is it? Well, Saturday, I got another one of ‘the calls’. A good good friend of mine’s sister was killed in a car wreck. I should have gone home to the old home town and been there for them. I should have gone and given my condolences and made sure that they were holding up ok.
I couldn’t do it. I started throwing up about 1am and didn’t stop until I had decided it was too late for me to go. The same hour I decided I wasn’t going to go, I felt much better. I know this is just my nerves. I know it is stress, but I just couldn’t do it. I almost sent myself into a panic attack trying to get ready to leave my house. Not over anything important, over what I was going to wear. To my Friend’s HOUSE – people I have known for thirty years. Not strangers, not people who would EVER judge me, friends. They are dealing with so much – she was young, she had young children, her husband has been arrested for homicide – a ton of things to deal with – and yet, I couldn’t make myself get into that car. Not for any amount of money, not for any reason. I couldn’t do it. I am not ok with this.
I keep telling myself that I can only do what I can do, and that they understand, but the thing is, I should have been able to do this. I know that other people have things MUCH harder than I do. I have recently become fascinated with MPD/DID and have been reading different blogs regarding different people’s lives who deal with/ are living with/ are doing great / are suffering / are making it one day at a time – through living with MPD. THAT is HARD. I know I shouldn’t compare the two, my situation and theirs, but I do it anyway – and mine is not hard compared to what they have survived. And yet, here I am being a baby. Here I am, going into full panic because I don’t want to deal with more death.
I am not at all happy about it.