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The Vanishing Kind

Originally Posted:

July 10, 2017.

It began 

April 1, 2017.  

Second time

June 5, 2017.

The last

July 10, 2017.

Why did I let this happen?

He came back, swerving like a snake, manipulating me once more with his tears and false pain. *Even managing to destroy what was left of my already sorrowful Birthday weekend. And after 17 days of not speaking, he continues to verbally assault me on a Social Media Platform.

Nine months of verbal and emotional torture?  In Disability, Charges, Heartache, Violated. 

It seems manifested from a dream as now the reality night shades pulls the sadness back over my soul.  

I have been far removed from this situation (for many reasons).

I loved him.  Even when he was inpatient with my Dysautonomia or my progressiveness as a Woman.  

I watched him become more withdrawn, delusional and I never understood.  

I was faithful, honest, giving him my soul in our future commitment as husband and wife. *That was NEVER going to happen.  His insecure soul could never let him trust as his delusions ran his heart.

This all still stands true.

But, now I’m remembering all of the times I tried beyond my physical and emotional capacity.

I remember the first time I cooked him dinner.   He didn’t even wait for me to sit down.  He devoured his food like an animal (He has absolutely no manners) as we watched his favorite movie, Jaws.

All at my house.  

Everything, at my house.  (Minus the two times I drove to a dingy motel (where Sexual Assault took place) once when I took him on a Weekend Vacation to one of the most iconic and swankiest Hotels in the Country).

*That was when he chose to let me pay for EVERYTHING, even though I couldn’t afford to.
Now, I have been educated.  

He has Major Psychosis.

He has never been treated, but diagnosed by multiple Psychologists.

So What do I do when I am trying to fill the holes inside from my own pain, but in return all that I got was:

Psychosis:

“Behavioral: disorganized behavior, aggression, agitation, hostility, hyperactivity, hypervigilance, nonsense word repetition, repetitive movements, restlessness, self-harm, social isolation, lack of restraint, or persistent repetition of words or actions

Cognitive: thought disorder, confusion, belief that an ordinary event has special and personal meaning, belief that thoughts aren’t one’s own, disorientation, memory loss, racing thoughts, slowness in activity, thoughts of suicide, unwanted thoughts, or difficulty thinking and understanding

Mood: anger, anxiety, apathy, excitement, feeling detached from self, general discontent, limited range of emotions, or loneliness.”

The DSM-5.

These behaviors were active on a regular basis.  I knew something was wrong with him, but I thought he was just Depressed.   But, the shift in his manic psychosis episodes became more aggressive. Attacking me verbally and emotionally many times while under the influence of alcohol. *He would end up in a severe car accident, not remembering anything until I put his pieces back together (as I always did). *He broke into my Mobile Phone, literally copied everything off of it.  He called my Doctor and asked to meet him because he thought we were having an Affair.  He called my current Landlord after he took photos of my Lease.  And the killer, he called my Ex-Husband.  

Now, I look back at how he found me, not once but twice. It can be called ‘Destiny,’ but these emotion particles have become truths of nothing.  

Not on or in my Journey.

My holes of loss have only grown into infinite depths of eternal suffering.

I just wanted love.

Instead I slowly drowned inside his misery, delusions, abuse.


Not anymore.

I cannot fix what is already broken.

Maybe one day when you are ready, and you build your mind and have a strong heart, don’t come find me.

Goodbye.

The Friday Disease 

Friday night.  7:50p.m. In-bed with Tachycardia, Dehydration, Slight Fever, Oh And A Colon Manifested With Tumors.  

A Lot Of Vomiting And Usage Of Facilities Today Due To My Wretched Colon.  

Exhausted From Lack Of Sleep (I have not slept for more than eight hours straight, interrupted since July 2016), Work, Chronic Illnesses, Dysautonomia(my Disability), and well, Life.

Existence: “The fact or state of living or having objective reality.”  Dictionary 

I played a lot today with my existing Nostalgia, when I wasn’t bleeding from inside out.  

I remembered a time in my life, College, University, Uni, whatever you call it, I call it some of the happiest and darkest times of my-self.

But, Nostalgia is not necessarily sadness. For me, it brings me a few moments of peace in my decaying present.

So, Friday Nights from 2001-2003, mostly in epic proportion with friendship, music, laughter, and oh yes, drinking.  I could out drink them all. 🙂  *(I had a Rule as an Undergraduate, “No drinking during the week.”  In 3 years, I broke my rule ONCE).

I thought about my Best Friend Jon.  How much admiration and respect he gave among our tangled friendship.  (He loved me.  I did not).

We walked the same path in College, working hard, partying hard.  Metal Heads. Ethnic.  Gym Rats.  Simpático.

He was my protector, my confidant.  He was Jon.  I will say there were at times magic between our eyes (Elizabeth Taylor is not the only one with true Amethyst Irises). 

Even after a bottle of Jack Daniels (6’4″ Dutch Guy could kill a bottle of Jack and still walk five miles) his smile could still tear me apart.  As I, a case of Coors Light.  

We would just talk.  Drink yes, talk more.  It was easier to…, I had a Single Dorm.  Yes, Metal in the background.  That was a must.  Korn, Slipknot, System of a Down, Pantera to name a few favorites.  

We both had secrets, sorrow, and this gave our Friendship the foundation we both needed.  He shared many personal heartaches, family melancholia, almost a tortured soul.  He liked the fact I was a different type of girl, a girl who didn’t mind when he had guys night instead of partying in 1040 Higgins Hall (My Dorm, which was Imploded on July 1, 2017.  I was there for it.  *He lived in Higgins Hall as well. Fourth Floor.  Aka The Zoo it was called). He liked the fact I didn’t cry everytime I drank (NEVER) or need him to hold my hair so I could puke in the hallway (NEVER).  He enjoyed it when I could sing like a Metal Head (I was in a Metal Band before College) and know every lyric by memory and heart.

Not your average College Girl by far.  Maybe that’s why he loved me.  I was unattainable.

And I look back now, and I regret that.

But, those were my issues, my pain, my destruction. 

 I didn’t know how to love him back.  And this something that eats away at what’s left of my own heart.

Present:  “Existing or occuring now.  The period of time now occurring.” Dictionary 

We have not spoken to eachother since 2012.  His Wife will not let him maintain any sort of contact/Friendship with me.  *They met in College when he began his Master’s Program, ironically I was attending mine too.  He left his Program without Graduating, I stayed and received my first M.A as that was the last time I saw him.

Regrets?  

Many.  If I could love you back, I think we would have ended up together.  It was a Destiny not fulfilled.  And when Destiny is interrupted by failure, souls are lost forever.

Friday Nights.  How you have changed.

Explicit Moon https://mondayswednesdaysfridays.org/2016/06/14/explicit-moon/

Holiday Lost

Labor Day. 

2017.

I’m Educating, Teaching 9 Hours Today (would have been 10, but a Student in Venezuela needed his Class Rescheduled).

Holiday?

Never.

During the 2017 Calendar Year, I have taken off 8 days. *Four for two Surgeries. 1 Personal (Dysautonomia Anniversary). 1 Semi-Personal, to watch my Undergraduate Dorm being Imploded. 1 to move(that was the last day).  The other day was a mistake, but we live and learn. *(For my Ex’s Birthday.   My Birthday was ten days ago, and the last thing he said to me was Goodbye Kurva(whore) after pretending to celebrate my Birthday).
I put on Mr. Mister as I wait for my next Class. Songs to keep me in reflection as I am dealing with circumstances no one should have to experience.

So, Holiday.

The Summer of 1993.  I was a latch-key kid, so home alone, with a Volunteer Job at the local Public Library.  

Everyday, I had a Routine:

I would wake up, make a 32 ounce Ice-Tea, watch The Price Is Right (man I was good at calculating the Showcases) then a quick snack, always the same: Jalapeno Nacho Cheese Sauce with Tortilla Chips, get ready for the Young and the Restless.  There was my escape.  At twelve years old, I understood Adult Relationships, love, pain.  There were two Characters: Danny Romalotti and Brad Carlton each giving my young soul an opportunity to know what kind of woman I wanted to be.

Danny was this Rocker, didn’t quite fit into the shows bourgeoisie of Characters.  Like me, I was a loner. He dated this beautiful blonde Attorney that obviously was not a match, but I thought cool this guy is a musician and lived among people who judge him and he still keeps going, his heart alive.

Brad was a Business Man (originally casted as a Gardener, right).  Brad was dark, sometimes borderline between good and evil.  His ambitions what were I liked (and the fact he was the most beautiful man on day-time television at that time).  He fought hard, always defending himself. Also, somewhat a loner, wander.  He had many relationships during his run on the show, but nothing in comparison to Danny and Cricket.  

Maybe that’s why I was drawn to him.  What really matters in life? Love? 

Absolutely not.

I knew then, We design our own lives.  A part of this design is love.  It is not natural to our being. Love creates manipulation, power, and most of all, misery.  All that is left are regrets.  Why chose to design our lives already broken?  

I want peace, freedom Contentment for my Soul. You will never change my mind. That’s my design. I want to end in solo creativity.

Now, fast forward.  

My last Relationship ended (for the fourth time) due to abuse.  We were never ok together, but as I do, I stay to see if the heart fixes what’s inside.   To only be left with my own pain deeper, further from self or any type of peace.  *When you can count the days on one hand when you were genuinely happy, this is not natural or compatible.

I’m done.  

As a Character on a show, I have been written off from the same storyline.  

My ending: Almost occurred on Christmas Morning 2016: I’m lying in my Grand King Hotel Room inside the MGM Grand.  The view from our 13 Floor Window is spectacular.  I can see the Grand Canyon and the Strip.

But, that’s about all I can see.  

Dysautonomia has proven to infinitely ruin me, my dreams, my life.  

There are no good moments left for me.

Instead, I see myself jumping out the window, but I’d rather die somewhere else.  (Preferably, Sicily).

Liberate?

No, Reinstate.  

Holding Back The Years

I’m in such great sadness.  I never thought the last time I would see you, would be your grave.

I said Goodbye to you today (almost 11 months after your death, your Suicide).

As every month past and passed, the seasons changed, I kept telling my Heart that I needed to let go. Many nights, crying as I replayed that entire week before your death.

After November, my time was consumed by abuse and me being stuck.  As I wrote to you before on your seven month death anniversary: *You would be so ashamed of where I am at. Giving in, tortured by someone else’s pain who sees me as a dishonest painful Woman, individual, Soul.  And as I uncover my mirror you know that’s Far from all truth.

I spent fifty minutes with you today. Crying in all black as I pulled up and could see your Monument.  I couldn’t breathe.  I have never wept inside a cemetery before.  And how I found you, yes I called the Memorial and they told me approximately where you are buried, but I have never been there and driving with my Disability is wretched, but I followed her directions but the rest was as if you led me to you.

I told you today, I was sorry for not being able to come to the Funeral or to see you sooner.  I played our song, I talked about what’s been happening and how I have to leave this town and will never return.  I apologized for not bringing flowers, so I left my faux pearl necklace hanging on an Angel in front of your tomb (someone left a similar necklace on a Cross on the right side of your Monument).  I asked if you were at peace wherever you are and to look after your Son and Family.  I cried as I spoke about our Friendship, how you were my only friend in this town, my Best Friend and how I miss you everyday.  I thought about you underground (I know what happened at the Funeral Home) I cried and said I was sorry they did that to you. I gently touched the black marble as I looked at your picture and what is engraved next to that infamous smile. The years, showing how young you were (26). 

I didn’t want to leave, but I told you I had to go back to work.  I told you I loved you as I kissed my hand and put it across your picture and held it there as I wept and said Goodbye for the last time.

I walked away and as I got into my truck I looked back and cried.  *A grounds keeper asked me if I was leaving as if our time was over.

On the drive home (A home I have left for 48 hours), I thought about my own Suicide Attempts and what if that was me.

Would people come visit me?  Leave behind memories?  Talk to me?

Vaellaz, I’m sorry it took me almost 11 months to visit you and say my peace, my last Goodbye.

My Soul is better that I did.  

I cannot bring you with me when I leave here.

I will always miss you and love you, but the Pain must remain behind.

“Chance for me to escape from all I know
Holding back the tears
There’s nothing here has grown
I’ve wasted all my tears
Wasted all those years
Nothing had the chance to be good

Nothing ever could
I’ll keep holding on.”  Simply Red

Girl On Fire 

On March 27, 2017 

I ask my Boss Kevin if I could have March 30, 2017 off.

It is very significant to me.

It’s the Second Anniversary of my Dysautonomia.

I then asked him if he could talk 

He called via mobile phone 

And I told him the following:
I need this day to myself.

Last year, I tried to commit suicide

He got really quiet.

He said

“What ever you need from me, I’ll do”

Reply 

‘Just be my friend.’

Reply 

“I can do that.”

I got the day off.

On March 31, 2017 he messaged me via Skype:

[3/31/2017 8:33:58 AM] Kevin H.: hey sarah, welcome back!

[3/31/2017 8:36:48 AM] Sarah R W: Hi Kevin. Thank You.

What are the circumstances now? He is no longer my Boss(wrongfully, for other reasons). I was told not to disclose my Health with Students (Three students were “Freaked out” in regards to my Health, so they asked for a Replacement Instructor.  Funny thing, I never gave away when I’m sick while interacting with a Student.  I always kept my pain to myself).

I could have never responded that day, and I would have been replaced without hesitation.  It’s common sense. As long as I continue to work seven days a week (for 348 days now) within my progressive Disability it doesn’t matter, it never did.

Still shot from Burning Down The House By Talking Heads. A Group My Former Boss And I Discussed, Not To Mention One Of My Favorite Bands. 

Ironic, I’m Nine Years Older Than My Former Boss, And I Was Alive And Intune With The Genius Of It All When This Track Was Released. 

The Concept Of David Byrne In This Shot Is Self-Reflection And Regret.  

That Phone Call.  Maybe he was terrified.  Maybe it was all just fashion, truth of the matter, no one really cares.

Mirror Uncovered 

April 9, 2017 makes it seven months.

Seven months from the time of your death and how long we existed together in time.

I don’t know how to let go, say goodbye.

But, as I move on, I have to let go of everything.  I am not the same woman.  Not just from Dysautonomia  (Yes, I’m altered for life, but I mean a completely different Soul).

April 10, 2016, I was destroyed.  Never to return. This change in my life shifted every fiber of my past, present, and disabled future.

Then, five months later, you die.  

Abandoned was the theme of 2016, and I can no longer drown here inside it.

So, my decisions to leave, become someone else is all I have left to say.

You took your own life, an act I have tried to conquer since I was seventeen.  And with all the loss I experienced before and after your death my Soul is gone.

I’m in complete darkness 

And that’s fine.
Pain of division is nothing
Joy of dissolution is everything

Mother of creation wait, embrace the souls of a lost world
Carry them away
Darkness negative receptive
Pour firmament between our waters
Separate the space
Mother of destruction wait with a belt of
Skulls strap me down
And send the ship away
Progress with the process, mine the souls
From their casts
Pour form and reshape’  Mudvayne 


*You would be so ashamed of where I am at. Giving in, tortured by someone else’s pain who sees me as a dishonest painful Woman, individual, Soul.

And as I uncover my mirror you know that’s Far from all truth.

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Original Post

March 30, 2016.

Preface:
I Began this opus in January.
I did not think I could write, even a paragraph.
This is not complete.
It never will
Be.

What do you call Self Destruction?
Is it distinction, misery, death, art?
Well, on March 30, 2015, my life ended.
Does that count?

It was a Monday, had a Job I loved, a new Career path for me as a Professor of Applied Mathematics.
As I was driving the 20 miles (one way) something was happening to me, my heart was racing, left arm going numb, right side of my being giving away.

I park the truck, and as I step down, I collapsed on the unpaved parkway.
I picked up my teacher belongings and somehow made my way through the Industrial site.

Sweat covering my eyes, I walk into my office as my Boss awaits our afternoon meeting.
I sit, what I didn’t know was Tachycardia pouring over my keyboard.
I think I’m having a Heart Attack.
I excuse myself.
Semi concsious, I find myself in the Womens bathroom stall, my body changing.
I couldn’t control my mind as my heart rate was killing me softly.
Waves of movements, time nauseating me.
I couldn’t move myself from this.
I kept telling my Soul, you have had 16 Surgeries, you were on Chemotherapy twice, move.
Instead, my life was ending.

I crept back to my Office, my Hipster Boss was waiting with a smile.
I can I tell her I’m dying and I have no fucking clue why.

I look at her, my fierce blue eyes weakened from the pain, I ask her quietly to find an Ambulance.

I change my mind, as her and my other Boss drive me to the local E.R.

Waiting, waiting, waiting, as I sat dying.
My male Boss in panic.
My female Boss calling my Mother.

I’m on the table, hard to breathe, and I hear:
‘Is there a chance your Pregnant? ‘

I wanted to yell
You fucking pig, do you know anything about the persistence of loss?
I watched the blood of my life spill onto my Parents bathroom floor when I was 17.
He was Mi Hijo, Juan Alejandro.
I then had a Total Abdominal Hysterectomy when I was 23.
I’m 34 now, do the math.

No. No, I am not Pregnant I hastily replied.

But, All I literally could think of was:

‘”So withdrawn and feeling numb
Watching life come all undone
My life
A disarray
And I
Fade away
I am down on my knees
Praying beyond belief
The silence deafens my ears
And welds the shackles
Onto my fears
I have lost all faith.'”
FF

Why is this happening to me again?
Hasn’t my body been through enough?

An Influenza Test, Chest X-Ray, Ultra Sound (All negative)
I was left with nothing, not even a Doctor to evaluate me.

2 days later, I was Inpatient.
5 MRIs, Multiple X-Rays, and Labs.

Nothing.

So, it was left to believe I was mentally unstable, dreaming all of this pain up.

The Neurologist assigned to my treatment actually told me
“It’s in your head. There’s nothing wrong with you. All the Tests came back Negative.”

This is a problem for me.

But, before I could state my case, a
Psychologist was standing at the foot of my hospital bed, with an Intern.

Dr. Razzouk.

He had my Medical Files from my Hematologist.

‘You have been through a lot. Your Medical Conditions are very serious and all of them together (12) must very difficult for you.
How do you cope?
What is going on now?’

I looked at him with all the pain I felt knowing damn well he had copies of my Sealed Medical Files, and I thought
this anyabaszó
as I kept my mouth shut.

In silence, in between, no one believed me (more tests, Neck Surgery for my Occipital Neuropathy, and E.R Visits), until
May 29, 2015, when Dr. Aguilar, a top Electrophysiology diagnosed me with
Dysautonomia.

Now.

It’s been almost a year.
They tell me, You will never be the same little girl.
I’m fading into a ghost of what was self.
No one hears me crying as the door locks. I’m supposed to be the forever Soldier beyond those walls that are crumbling.

Dysautonomia has left me disabled, hurt, dismantled, sick, alone.

Why?

image

You’ll never understand what it’s like to already be chronically ill, then even within all your life long medical suffering, you truly become a hostage in your own body.
I’ll never understand.

This is not a dream.
We are unable to transmit to your existence.
The interference is your health.
If you are receiving this, your soul is still running.
It recognizes you have never been defeated.
Our Broadcast
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says your consciousness is fading away.
Disabled
Terminated.