Recalling and Forgiving
So...updates. It's 4th day of Eid (Eid Mubarak, everyone~!) and things are finally looking up.
With my parents, and with my void memories.
The former part is good and awesome, though whilst the latter is a "bit not good", I think it's a positive change than before. I'm going back to college 1st of July and after that we have final exams coming up, thankfully just 3 papers.
I should stock up my meds for end of semester break, too.
After being stuck 26 hours on a fucking bus on my way home for Eid, Dad picked me up around 2 a.m as per usual. He kept saying something about patience and tribulations, I just nodded and hummed, letting him say his piece. When we were getting close to home, he finally got around to sorta, kinda, in a roundabout my-family-way, kind of apologized about the 'crazy' fiasco last time.
I understand the meaning, though.
Because that's when I thought, "Oh, so this is where Sis got it from."
Ha.
I felt quite close to tears, happy ones though.
Mom did things her own way, naturally. Thank God I'm an observer and not an Anderson.
She started asking about the meds I'm taking, and accepts them as what they are.
The anti-depressants, the anxiety, the sleeping pills, etc.
She's perceptive as to when I take them,
like, today we went out to check out this lump under my armpit early asscrack in the morning so we didn't get breakfast at home and I hadn't taken my anti-depressants yet. After we got things sorted out and shit and went to get breakfast, I ordered a glass of water after the meal and she immediately looked at me and said, "Meds?" and I nodded.
She even mentioned almost casually how our hometown medical facilities aren't equipped to treat depression (but they CAN treat your normal cold). My itty bitty heart was doing flip backs as I let out a wide, genuine smile. I laughed so hard and free that day.
They're accepting me.
I couldn't even begin to comprehend how big and important and meaningful this is. My parents FINALLY seeing the struggles I hide all these years. It's a little contradicting but you know what I'm talkin 'bout, haha.
So, that's my family.
And now we move on to the void memory. That's what I call my Form 2 year that I have no memories of. The one year I lost after The Incident.
Before, I said that sometimes, I get brief flashbacks. Like, hella brief. No-more-than-a-flash-of-picture-and-color-in-3-seconds brief. A glimpse of a wooden chair, something like that.
Couple of days ago, I remembered a full day. Well, not like 24-hours full day, but more like, a finished memory of a day. But I was in a dissociative state, so the memory was viewed in 3rd POV. I think I zoned out for no more than half an hour but it felt as if I slept a full night.
It wasn't a happy memory, but now, I have proof that the void memories are coming back.
Slowly, but surely, I'm getting them back. Memory per memory.
I remember it was a Tuesday. I saw myself walking back from school, her young face gaunt and haggard. It had been a terrible night and she had a bad day. She looked different, smaller, even though I see myself in the mirror all the time, but she was a memory I didn't remember being.
She didn't looked like me, but I feel her as me.
She dragged her feet over the tar roads leading to the main gate, head facing down and eyes watching her feet taking steps. Her clothes weren't dirty, but I felt them heavy as an armor of chains.
I watched her.
Taking step by step.
Mind tired and screaming and suffocating.
She wasn't breathing quite right.
When she got to the main gate, she looked forward. The roads were busy, and I saw her flick her eyes briefly to the gargle of students waiting or just dilly-dallying near her. She was tired.
She was choking.
She stared at the roads longingly, standing there as the background melts into white noise.
She wonders if it would end if she took just a few more couple steps forward, eyes shut.
She counted the cars zooming back and forth, mentally calculating and listening in for the right speed.
I watched her take a breath and see her exhale slowly as if I could see an explosion of mist out of her lips if we were in winter. Her eyes were so tired. She looked so sad.
She stood there, watching the roads.
And I stood there, watching her.
Her lip trembles and she opened her mouth. I wait in baited breath.
She let out a small squeak and scrunched her eyes shut tight.
She stayed that way for several minutes, and I watch her shoulders tremble.
She opened her eyes, new pain ablazing as she turned away and try to make it home.
I didn't follow her, I continued to watch her trudge her way, her back to me.
She was fighting with each breath she takes, to not turn just one wrong step into the road she wanted to take. How much she wanted it, I am aware. How hard she fought it, I am also aware.
Had it been that painful?
It could have been easy, and I know she had imagined all the possible scenes that would happen after. If her body would flip over the vehicle.
If it didn't have enough impact and she wasn't successful.
If she managed to get saved by some idiot and try again every other day.
She wished and wished and wished.
Yet her steps did not stray.
She fades from my vision.
And I fade from herself.
With my parents, and with my void memories.
The former part is good and awesome, though whilst the latter is a "bit not good", I think it's a positive change than before. I'm going back to college 1st of July and after that we have final exams coming up, thankfully just 3 papers.
I should stock up my meds for end of semester break, too.
After being stuck 26 hours on a fucking bus on my way home for Eid, Dad picked me up around 2 a.m as per usual. He kept saying something about patience and tribulations, I just nodded and hummed, letting him say his piece. When we were getting close to home, he finally got around to sorta, kinda, in a roundabout my-family-way, kind of apologized about the 'crazy' fiasco last time.
I understand the meaning, though.
Because that's when I thought, "Oh, so this is where Sis got it from."
Ha.
I felt quite close to tears, happy ones though.
Mom did things her own way, naturally. Thank God I'm an observer and not an Anderson.
She started asking about the meds I'm taking, and accepts them as what they are.
The anti-depressants, the anxiety, the sleeping pills, etc.
She's perceptive as to when I take them,
like, today we went out to check out this lump under my armpit early asscrack in the morning so we didn't get breakfast at home and I hadn't taken my anti-depressants yet. After we got things sorted out and shit and went to get breakfast, I ordered a glass of water after the meal and she immediately looked at me and said, "Meds?" and I nodded.
She even mentioned almost casually how our hometown medical facilities aren't equipped to treat depression (but they CAN treat your normal cold). My itty bitty heart was doing flip backs as I let out a wide, genuine smile. I laughed so hard and free that day.
They're accepting me.
I couldn't even begin to comprehend how big and important and meaningful this is. My parents FINALLY seeing the struggles I hide all these years. It's a little contradicting but you know what I'm talkin 'bout, haha.
So, that's my family.
And now we move on to the void memory. That's what I call my Form 2 year that I have no memories of. The one year I lost after The Incident.
Before, I said that sometimes, I get brief flashbacks. Like, hella brief. No-more-than-a-flash-of-picture-and-color-in-3-seconds brief. A glimpse of a wooden chair, something like that.
Couple of days ago, I remembered a full day. Well, not like 24-hours full day, but more like, a finished memory of a day. But I was in a dissociative state, so the memory was viewed in 3rd POV. I think I zoned out for no more than half an hour but it felt as if I slept a full night.
It wasn't a happy memory, but now, I have proof that the void memories are coming back.
Slowly, but surely, I'm getting them back. Memory per memory.
I remember it was a Tuesday. I saw myself walking back from school, her young face gaunt and haggard. It had been a terrible night and she had a bad day. She looked different, smaller, even though I see myself in the mirror all the time, but she was a memory I didn't remember being.
She didn't looked like me, but I feel her as me.
She dragged her feet over the tar roads leading to the main gate, head facing down and eyes watching her feet taking steps. Her clothes weren't dirty, but I felt them heavy as an armor of chains.
I watched her.
Taking step by step.
Mind tired and screaming and suffocating.
She wasn't breathing quite right.
When she got to the main gate, she looked forward. The roads were busy, and I saw her flick her eyes briefly to the gargle of students waiting or just dilly-dallying near her. She was tired.
She was choking.
She stared at the roads longingly, standing there as the background melts into white noise.
She wonders if it would end if she took just a few more couple steps forward, eyes shut.
She counted the cars zooming back and forth, mentally calculating and listening in for the right speed.
I watched her take a breath and see her exhale slowly as if I could see an explosion of mist out of her lips if we were in winter. Her eyes were so tired. She looked so sad.
She stood there, watching the roads.
And I stood there, watching her.
Her lip trembles and she opened her mouth. I wait in baited breath.
She let out a small squeak and scrunched her eyes shut tight.
She stayed that way for several minutes, and I watch her shoulders tremble.
She opened her eyes, new pain ablazing as she turned away and try to make it home.
I didn't follow her, I continued to watch her trudge her way, her back to me.
She was fighting with each breath she takes, to not turn just one wrong step into the road she wanted to take. How much she wanted it, I am aware. How hard she fought it, I am also aware.
Had it been that painful?
It could have been easy, and I know she had imagined all the possible scenes that would happen after. If her body would flip over the vehicle.
If it didn't have enough impact and she wasn't successful.
If she managed to get saved by some idiot and try again every other day.
She wished and wished and wished.
Yet her steps did not stray.
She fades from my vision.
And I fade from herself.
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