7:24 a part of Dear Deena

Dear Deena,

Today was my first time losing a patient. I think it was somewhat a blessing in disguise because I had never encountered him before but as I was passing food trays today I realized he was having difficulty breathing and I asked the nurse. She told me he was actively dying and my response was if I could sit with him until my shift ended. So I sat there and played my favorite soothing music by Kenny G, I thought he might recognize him. I stroked his hand and his head and let me him know it was okay and that he wasn’t alone. I prayed for him and asked the Lord that you and him would find each other and that he would tell you hi for me. I hope he heard me. While the woman opened the window so his spirit could be set free I came home and closed mine dauntingly thinking his spirit might get lost and fly into my window haha. Silly superstition, I probably made it up. Anyway I have been thinking a lot about you lately more so than normal. I think my reasoning for staying was partially because I didn’t get the chance to do that with you and that perhaps it would help me find some closure being a part of the entire experience. It’s heart breaking but also such an honor to be with someone during their last moments. I didn’t want him to be alone any more than I wanted that for you so in a weird way it felt much like a do over. The whole process though reminded me of you and the work you did. I am sure in your field you saw so much of the same type of things. The process is amazing, watching someone try so hard to hold on, but reminding them that it’s okay. Sometimes a suffering person needs to just hear aloud that it’s okay to let God and let God. There was another resident that has been taking about much of my time and although a great part of me wanted to be with him to help ease his anxiety and comfort him I just felt it in my heart that this stranger that was someone’s dad, grandfather, uncle etc…needed me more. Perhaps that was a sign from you. My best friend has lately been telling me “Kim don’t ignore the signs, Deena is talking to you and reaching out to you in different ways, and when you are unsure, just trust your gut and Deena that is what I did. I trusted my gut that this man needed my company and my love and that’s exactly what I gave him. Finding closure in his process I think may have helped me find some closure with your passing, but then again that just might be my mind overworking. Only time will tell and if I am blessed to have much more of it I will surely let you know. I love you dearly. Please do your best to show this man around as he is headed your way.

 

As his chest rose like the sun

With restraint I then prayed

God will you please take the discomfort away

And as I stroked his hand and rubbed his head

I thought not only of him

But you my dear friend

Hoping that in his last breath and slow close of his lids

You would show him the palace where angels now live

I would not change these actions

And that is for sure, while one door was closing

Heaven’s opened again On September, 29 TOD 7:24

©Kim Edwards

 

Dear Deena happy things make me more miserable

Dear Deena,

It’s been a while since I last wrote you, a little less than a month, and yet quite a bit has changed. Some for the better and some for the worst. I guess I will start with the good as it will take the least amount of time. So a week out of treatment I decided to apply at a clothing store that a friend of mine owned. The owner was great with such wit and free spirit that I could literally play on my phone and computer when the store was empty. That’s all any girl wants right? But not me. I am a perfectionist. Being able to leave for an overpriced Starbucks coffee might have been enough to keep some employee’s happy but for me, not understanding what I was doing due to lack of training which of course I misinterpreted as a lack of intelligence threw me into complete panic. Without some sort of medication treatment this job also wasn’t going to work. So with that I had my physician again put me on medical leave. During that time, I filled out an application for the CNA training I have been anxiously excited to apply for. There have been years I was too anxious to even inquire about an application, but within a day of filling it out I got a call back for an interview and with that I put on a cute pair of black dress Capri’s and a nice top to cover the battle wounds I have acquired over the last few years. I got the job. Deena I got the job. To me though it’s much more than that, it’s a purpose, it’s people relying on me to not only help them eat, dress and wash them up, but do what I do best which is to make them smile and know that someone truly cares. This could be a potential career, a license in my name stating that I am certified to help those in need. I will be doing something that very few in this world can do, especially with grace. It reminds me of you though when you were an EMT. I know how much you wanted to go back and do that. I remember that was a goal and a topic of conversation that always brought a smile to your face when nothing else would. But that high I experienced only lasted so long. My first week home I lost 3lbs mainly due to anxiety. After my appointment with my new psychiatrist I was put back on my anti -anxiety which allowed me to be myself and not struggle so much making meals and eating them which luckily meant I gained the weight back whoot whoot.

Then all the good things began happening and the guilt sunk back again, old habits picked up and well if I didn’t know any better I began to self -sabotage. (ex burning, drinking, isolating and restricting, oh and purging) I did try though Deena. I quit Wegmans after having worked there 5 years. It’s somewhat bittersweet. As my schedule got busier I took on more and planed more and started having fun. Without you. I tried to ignore the pain in my stomach by discussing my new job and the plans for my future that also didn’t include you. Friends and family began spewing all their concerns at me about how I would handle the intense physical labor, the cliques of the staff I would work with and the fact that I would basically be doing someone else’s brunt work, not having any idea that the excitement I had moments before had dissipated along with my appetite. I know it wasn’t intentional, they probably had no idea I would take it so personally and truly reconsider my decision. Still though I partied on with my new roommate and my sister whom I adopted 2 years before when she at one point was just a roommate. I drank, danced, sang, colored and took walks like everything was normal. But that was just it, it was normal; It was normal Kim before Deena passed away. I still can’t walk on your street no matter how inconvenient. I am too tempted to look in the window and ensure all your things are there where they belong which I know isn't the case so I avoid the block all together.

Thursday I thought it would be a good idea to call Brian because to me until the case is solved, there’s still a chance of you making an appearance. He mentioned to me that a letter was brought in stating that someone in this town was bragging about lacing your cocaine with fentanyl. How could anyone not only consider but follow through on such a heinous act of violence? You have always been nothing but kind, even too kind. Fragile, vulnerable, but with a heart of gold that I still believe lingers in each ray of sunshine that is holding on as Fall quickly rolls around. The fact of the matter is I want to stay involved whether it be learning new details of your unfortunate turn of events, investigating myself or simply just living in misery. My food intake has gone way down after that conversation because as much as I want better for me, I like you can’t rest or self care until I know everyone else is doing okay. You will never be okay. I don’t feel right celebrating my new job, taking walks with friends or dressing up for dinner never mind actually eating it. I had a meltdown the other day because no matter where I turn something reminds me of you and although that’s partially what I want, it only gives me false hope that you could come back. My doctor gave me a task to help keep me focused and in a way honor you whichI did by coloring as she asked me to. But as I got closer to finishing I realized it wasn’t as perfect as I would have wanted it to be, much like the way you and I parted ways and secondly, if I had finished the coloring it would have meant I did something you loved and you weren’t there with me to revel in it. It would be the end of the picture. The end of the fun, just like there was an end to your life. I don't prefer ends. Anyway it’s time for me to go eat dinner. I have a long day of training ahead of me. Today was only day 1 out of 4 long ones. My mom asked if I made any friends today, my reply “haha no, I didn’t talk to anyone” so thanks love for listening. I love you and in your voice I wish I knew what you were “finking”. Lol xoxo

Evoking change, the path to least resistance; Dear Deena Pt.1 recovery on my own

“People have a tendency to avoid feelings that are uncomfortable. The truth is, feeling uncomfortable can be good; it can evoke change…”-Unknown. Although I have always known this to be true my summer began with the question “What made you decide to try and kill yourself?” only followed by my response “Because I was a bad friend to Deena, I have to go to heaven to apologize.” The feeling of guilt which would soon be followed by a deep depression then denial and last, but not least the emotion I was sure got me into this mess in the first place, anger had been so uncomfortable I attempted to take my life. It wasn’t until my second attempt and a 4^th hospitalization that I realized I was not meant to take the path of least resistance, but to create an entirely different one.

In early April a great friend of mine came home from treatment for what could have easily been the 8^th time in her life and that is merely just a number I pulled out of my ass! She has been to treatment a lot! Despite her history of quick relapses and failed attempts at living a healthy life I had great faith in her, which I would soon find out was yet again unfounded. Everything in me wanted to believe this time was different, that she was ready to make the change despite how discomforting it may be. Perhaps the fact that it took many letters, a YouTube video, doctors request, calls to insurance, appeal after appeal, labs drawn and finally a go-fund-me page that made me think there was no chance in hell she wouldn’t fight for her life. But like I said, it took not even a week before old habits kicked in, depression took over and a self- doubt that not even my positive spirit could touch. Deena didn’t want much to do with food, but a part of her wished she did because she accepted each attempt I made to support her. Whether it was coming to my house and eating a burnt grilled cheese sandwich I made from scratch (I swear it was an accident) or sucking down an ensure while my greedy cat tried to get a lick of, Deena didn’t want others to give up on her even though she already had on herself. Anxiety though tormented her the same way it had for years and much like anyone her and I know, she was willing to do anything to make it stop, even if it meant stealing my pills or using cocaine.

Yes, Deena stole my pills. She was convinced that Ritalin would ease her anxiety and although she may have been right I was not prepared to deal with an addict or a thief, especially after spending so many days trying to help her see that she was worth so much more than her eating disorder or any other addiction that would only temporarily slow down her thinking. Like any human being I got very angry with Deena and in attempt to set healthy boundaries and protect myself I told Deena that I loved her very much, but we could no longer be friends. As far as the reasons why I decided to call the police I am unsure as it’s a partly cloudy with a chance of revenge. But I am pretty sure the main point was to make it clear that there were consequences for her actions and I could not be like most of her friends and let her get away with it. That’s just not how the world here works.

This journal is not meant to be all about Deena though, but it did start with her and it’s a greater part of my journey as I learn to live with pain, deal with grief and ask for forgiveness when I feel that I am guilty. Three weeks after this incident Deena passed away from an accidental drug overdose, something I have yet to come to terms with. My first reaction, shock, my first emotion, guilt and my first instinct was to grab hold of the closest razor which lay only 4 feet away from me in my desk drawer. It was true, Deena was gone and the last thing I had said to her was we could no longer be friends. One of her last days was spent being questioned by an officer I had called because I was angry. Why did I have to be angry? And now how could I live with the guilt? I just couldn’t, I wouldn’t and at that moment I pressed the cold metal razor into my skin and sliced downward as I sobbed, salty tears and snot running down my nose, I shuddered as I could barely catch my breath and between each rise of my chest which beat fast from hyperventilating I said “Deena I am so sorry, I am so so sorry”!

Here I am now on August 21, 2016 heading into what very well may be my last day in treatment at the same place Deena graduated from only 4 months ago. Matter of fact I am living in the same apartment she was in and perhaps sitting in the same bed. If I am though I don’t want to know. Deena spent her whole life running from emotions, hiding from pain under drugs and an eating disorder and I have spent the last 3 months doing the same damn thing. The difference between her and I though is not that I got more chances, but that I have come to the conclusion sooner than she, that although the path of least resistance can serve us well for a while the chances of learning from our mistakes and growing our future is less likely. Learning to accept the discomfort, walk in the darkness and explore the unknown can lead to what may just as well be the best days of my life! I have talked about some hard shit the last few weeks including sexual trauma and my last few days with Deena all while eating an excruciating number of calories and on the other side of it I have found a more authentic smile. While there are also more authentic tears, the joy is like nothing else, it’s uncomfortable, it’s new and well I think I like it. I’m not enjoying every moment of it, but I am learning to dance in the rain and who knows maybe I will one day look back at my Pinterest board and with assurance say “After a while I looked in the mirror and realized…Wow after all those hurts, scars, bruises, After all those trials I really made it through. I did it. I survived that which was supposed to kill me. So I straightened my crown…And walked away like a boss!” -Unknown