reSILiENT caPtAIN (Silent Pain)
Hey, resilient captain. They may not see you, but I do.
The years are passing, and all you can think about is the last death that was laid out in front of you.
Time keeps moving, and you have no choice but to keep moving along with it…dead with grief inside.
I see how raw this still is on your skin and how hard you have to fight to tell this story.
***
In 2019, my world shook when we laid him to rest. I was in the bathroom, and the town heard me scream and cry at his wake. Again, my world broke
Another childhood friend had passed. It was also when I had courage to speak up.
At that time, I was starting a new journey in a new apartment. After years of codependency, I was finally alone, and that did not come without its own price. That was a change that was necessary for my growth, but I grieved over that as well.
I was supposed to start a real life as an adult living on my own after years of being lost in a crowded room full of fiery people going nowhere but down at the time.
That hope-filled journey was short-lived because three months into it, he passed. After, I sank so far down it seemed there was no saving me. I was alone with no one to lean on unless I was drinking, truly…I would’ve leaned on anything.
There was ample opportunity for internal growth in that new space, but I decided I wasn’t going anywhere but the soil down below. That was where I wanted to be. That’s where two people I loved lived while I was stuck above in misery. That was two of my close childhood friends dead. One by suicide, the other by overdose. They say that when someone you love passes away, you lose a part of yourself. They were unique pieces of me taken away. I felt like I was dying a long, slow, painful death. One party at a time, one substance at a time, one slice at a time. When they died, it hurt. And that hurt carried over to others around me.
On the day of that last funeral, I shifted out of society for real. I didn't just go cold or numb… I went into a total state of destruction.
When I first heard the news, I couldn't fathom the truth behind the words that were told to me… “Michael Balian passed away”.
It was deja vu. It was just three years after our last loss. The person who broke the news to me wore a shocked, scared look. It was the look of someone who knew how I was going to take it. He had that look of loss in his eyes, but that was overshadowed by an “oh Fuck”... look. The look of “oh no, now I have to tell Ruben the reality of this, and I know he's not going to take it well. He was right. I didn’t take it well. I internalized my feelings and went numb. Without a second thought, my mind switched over. Let’s grab the alcohol, let's get out of here. I can't handle this news. Let's take this to the extreme, and let's not come back from this. I've had enough loss. At this point, there is no winning in sight. I've already held on long enough. How much more could I bear?
My mind furiously ran with the narrative:
“That should've been me. I wanted it to be me. It was supposed to be me. Not him. Lord, please bring him back and take me.”
I was the one who had been asking for that way out, purposefully putting my life in jeopardy so I wouldn’t have to deal with the pain of life. So I would never have to deal with the feelings of loss again. I got really drunk and high, raged out on my arms, lay in bed in the dark, and isolated from the world that night. At the time, that was therapy. I wrote a beautiful post from the heart that I felt encapsulated his memory, and then, I moved on as a different, wilder, darker version of myself.
*Are you seeing the cycle yet?*
I forgot about my human side. The one that had joy, motivation, and drive. I let the version of me that was filled with pain and misery walk around for years. I made sure to keep their names in memory.
For a brief moment in the wake of his death, grief brought us together, a community of people leaning on each other. But it was transient.
After he was buried, the world went quiet again, and I was back to standing alone in my pit of anger and despair. I was back to grieving and using outlets that only buried me deeper. I tried to find him in anything I could get my hands on, and before I knew it, I was trapped, unsure what I was even looking for.
That’s the thing about grief. It sneaks up on you. Grief will kidnap your life in the blink of an eye and keep you hostage for years with no visible way out.
Grief created a madman.
I spent years running from grief, battling with grief, raging over grief, and even self-destructing over grief. More recently, I’ve also made peace with grief, made friends with grief, even welcomed grief to come to the surface. Grief is the one constant in life, next to change.
Grief has always been there with me, alongside the rage. It was the subtle yet catastrophic catalyst for my healing. It has always been the silent pain that turned me into this resilient captain you now get to see.