Hiatus is over
Just a quick note to readers who are still waiting for the next chapter. This fanfic is NOT discontinued. I'm going to be posting here soon.
Keep a look out for new chapters.
As for WHY I've been gone so long... Things got really rough. I'm just now crawling out of my own self-dugout grave and trying to rejoin the world. It seemed it was one thing after another every month, even recently. But I guess I can be the living confirmation that: Yes, "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger." I will explain below, but for anyone not interested (and don't feel bad about it, I skip author notes all the time- I completely understand not having the attention span or interest in them. Just take from this that there will be more chapters soon) you can go about your lives now, the announcement is over. Thanks for tuning in, folks!
Towards the time that I stopped posting, some family had moved into my house. It was our intention to give them a helping hand until they could get back on their feet. This couple of months led to a rift in our family that caused a lot of pain. I won't describe how, but thoughts of suicide on several peoples' parts were involved. Then came the lingering depression... Then COVID-19. With COVID, came online classes and less of a reason to get out of bed. I stopped seeing my doctor because I hate telehealth and face-to-face appointments were not an option. Then, I graduated. And lost my university paid for psychiatrist and therapist. With COVID causing people to seek therapy, I couldn't get a therapist and I was going downhill fast. More places than not won't allow you to see a psychiatrist without a therapist. I ended up in the mental hospital. Luckily, I knew what medications I needed so there was no need to experiment to find what worked best for me. I became known as the "Puzzle-Girl" because I spent the entire time there solving enormous puzzles. My god mental hospitals are SO boring. And full of crazy people (Who woulda guessed?). I made some friends there, though.
Quick PSA on awareness of mental illness: It's easy to forget that some of the more unstable people are... well... people. You see the result of their struggling, but you never really know what they're struggling with. What's going on in their heads is so much worse than what you're seeing. The only person that sees into their heads are them. Under all the pain and struggling, there is a person. There is no shame in seeking help for mental health. There is no shame in talking about it. There is no shame in seeking treatment for any sickness, physical or mental.
Just before I had been admitted to the hospital, I had a new job. Working with my mom, actually. I was working in a science lab as a real scientist! Chemistry and all that jazz! I learned a lot. And I struggled a lot. My boss was an incredibly understanding person (for reasons I won't share- but he had a soft spot for me because of it) and he assured me that my job was safe while I was hospitalized. I'm not ashamed to admit that before the hospital, I cried a lot at work because I was off very important medications and couldn't control my emotions at all. When I returned, I fought hard to get onto the lab director's good side. My first 90 days weren't great for previously relayed issued. Eventually, I moved up in the company (and I spent 12-hour days there, motivated, but severely underpaid for what I was doing) with the hope of a management position. A salary, a state certificate for analyzing drinking water. As in, I got to decide whether water treatment plants would be shut down or not. My signature alone could destroy a company or keep it afloat. It was crazy power- that I turned down. Because the company was abusive. Very abusive.
I wasn't in a good state of mind again and would sit in the parking lot of the building before work, thinking, "I could go inside... or I could kill myself." That's not a choice someone should feel they're trapped in. So, I quit. I gave my 2-week notice. The abuse got worse (I was later informed that I could, and still can, sue them for how they treated me. But my mother works there, and I don't want to endanger her job.), until my primary abuser had fed enough gossip and lies to our lab director (They were sleeping together). They let me go a week and a half early. I've been unemployed since April.
Did I ever mention my cat before? The absolute joy my life and the creature that roams our house. Who literally has a funny little portrait, framed and all, hanging in our living room because he's so loved? "He's the lord of the estate!" "The younger master was awaiting your return." "He's the sweetest boy in town!" I rescued him about 12 years ago, and had it not been for him and his unconditional love, I would be dead. There were numerous times I would have to tell myself, that no matter how much I hated myself; No matter what I did; I could KILL someone and come home as the scum of the world... And my sweet baby boy would still love me unconditionally. If he can love me so intensely and unforgivably, then I can at least make an effort to like myself.
He started coughing one day. It was just a cough. We took him to the vet, and he dutifully finished his round of medicine... But he was still coughing. My parents went camping, and it was just me and him alone. I took him up for his appointment. We thought maybe he had pneumonia or bronchitis.
"Here are the directions to the ER."
...
"He has less than a month to live."
...
"It's wrapped around his entire intestine."
"It's inoperable."
...
My baby boy, who had been nothing but an angel his entire life, had a cough. That cough was the only symptom he had for stage 4 lymphoma. They wanted to put him down right then and there. I had them drain the fluid in his chest and brought him home... he had never been so light. He went from being 16 pounds to 9 pounds in 2 days. From the fluid removed, and his refusal to eat. The next day, even just breathing made him gag.
We used Laps of Love to put him down. They're a wonderful company who is willing to come out to your house to put your baby down. So that they can die in the comfort of their home, surrounded by the things and people they love. We buried him in the backyard and made a garden above his body. It's called "Ashes Garden".
...
...
He just had a cough.
My dad said that he had never grieved so hard in his life. He had lost people that didn't hurt this bad. Ashes was so incredibly special to us. Words can't describe how beautiful is existence was and will always be.
It's been hard, and it's still hard. But I feel like I'm getting somewhere in my mental health. I'm still unemployed (I'll give an update - above a chapter! I hope to never have to make one these authors note pages again), and part of me believes that it's worked out best that way. I'm recovering well and ready to return to the world. I'm back, baby!
There is a lot of details I'm leaving out. Like how a bird pooped in my abuser's mouth after I left (KARMA), how we got a new baby kitten named Lamar because we need someone to love, or how I strongly believe in nature and it being a source of communication between the dead and the living- my baby is talking to me through the yellow lilies, springing up dozens of them everywhere I go in a sweltering heat that shouldn't be sustainable for them, and giving me dozens of signals in nature to indicate that he's still here and knows he's loved and knows we love him. But I spent a lot of emotion writing about his sickness and death and can't spare anymore of it today.
Thanks for reading my dears,
Charlie
P.S.: I have had to unpublish and republish this page over and over again, so it doesn't come out like scribbled garbibbles!
