MommaSue

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2021-10-13 03:56:38 (UTC)

To be able to speak again

Most of the time, I feel better than I have ever felt. I feel able to just be able to do things. Normal things. Ordinary every day things and actually feel ok. For the better part of my life, I was prescribed medication after medication without any progress. In fact, for the most part, I regressed. A few years ago, a doctor walked in and handed me a diagnosis of ADHD. The man saved my life. The diagnosis was controversial because to be honest I have battled an eating disorder which took me to 52 pounds, nearly three years inpatient stays in different states, and my family showing me my where I would be buried.

The day my dad told me where I was going to be buried was the day I woke up after a close call from complications of an eating disorder to find my Dad's blue eyes grey sitting in a chair against a mustard yellow wall. It was late afternoon and the blinds were filtering in mid-spring sun in April. His eyes told me something was wrong. I didn't know for sure where I was or why but I did know something was very wrong. He began with asking me if I remembered anything. To which I replied, no. He looked down at his hands and that is when I saw him clutching papers folded in half. He started gripping the papers too hard when he looked up and said the entire family has been up here. The doctors called us all in to say good bye. At this stage in my eating disorder, I looked around and said well I'm not in the ICU. It cannot be that bad. His eyes just broke. Looking back, I cannot know what that eating disorder did to them. I cannot know how my family felt. I can't. I do know that I was completely unaware or did not care if I died or know how serious it was.

He saw me look down at the paper. He looked at me and looked back down relaxing his grip on the papers in his hands and could not seem to speak. I knew to give him time. I wondered why he wasn't twisting the papers. It was a nervous habit and I knew he was nervous. Honestly, I was so numb inside. The reality of these moments would not hit me for years later. It is hard. I wish I could take them back or at least the pain that this terrible disorder caused. He finally choked out he bought my burial plot and wanted to make sure it was ok as my final resting place. I told him that I was not going to die but that would be fine with me. He never was the type to choke up or cry nor even say I love you. I just always knew.

He had a cardiac death a few years before this. My mom called and said to go to the ER that my dad and sister was on the way. She had to drop him off at the fire station because he thought he was dying. He fell out onto the parking lot. Intense is what my sister told me. I walked into to the emergency room to hear code blue emergency room. Code blue emergency room. In typical denial, I call my mother and tell her well they have a code blue and say the doctor or nurse will be out to get us in a little bit. My aunt works at the hospital so I am trying to get in touch nothing. It does not dawn on me that the code blue is my father. My sister and I are sitting there talking. She has just had her son and milk is in. Despite how bad my sister says my dad was feeling, it does not sink in. He was not dying. Nope not today thank you. I am twenty-four at the time. The doctor calls us back and that is when it hit me. His feet were were not sticking straight up like usual when he lays down instead they pointed outwards. His bed was completely flat. It was not like usual. Typically, the patient is tilted at an angle. I stopped at the end of the bed. My younger sister in front of me. I had became completely terrified. He raised his head up skin grey not his. He literally had a greyish blue tint. His voice was not his either. It sounded alien when he said, "they had to give me a jump start." My sister just starts laughing. Meanwhile, I am still trying not to believe anything. Nope, not today. I blandly stated well you're not dead are you. I mean it is about all that I could get out. He replied I love you. My voice left. I had never heard those words from him. I had never realized before that moment he had never said them to me before. I had just always known. We only had about two minutes until we were made to leave because he was being taken by helicopter to a different hospital to have a surgery. He said it again as my sister and I walked away blue lips and all. He lived just like I knew he would. It is scary in reflection though.

My dad was the opposite of my mother. While her was as hot tempered and unpredictable as anyone, my mother was soft, cool, and my sisters and I safe place. Don't get me wrong. My dad was the strong man ever and would protect us but she protected us from him. Growing up, I did not know nor do I or at least have a hard time accepting he had issues. My grandpa used to fight my dad almost like unleashed. My dad would get a nod from my grandpa and that meant to go fight the other kid. My grandpa and the other fathers would place bets on the winner. My dad said he hated his old man for that. He said he had been fighting since he could remember. When he went somewhere with my grandfather he always sized up another kid or teenage and was never able to let his guard down. It took my dad a long time to understand he did not have to fight anymore. What though he never did was hit me or my sisters. He hit my mother. He slapped us but I know how this sounds but it did not hurt. It just stunned us. What hurt me more than I knew was never knowing what to expect. My younger sister was the one who took the brunt of his anger but he was immature if you will and treated me like I should know everything. Well, I was a child. Kids can be told to do something but they are not as capable as adults. My pet peeve is adults saying well I have told them over and over. Well, because that was me. Over and over repeatedly I had to be told to do something and it was never good enough. I was plain. I was neither pretty nor was I ugly but if I kept eating like that I would wake up one day to find my ass in three states.

Until my life fell apart and I saw his blue eyes grey that day, I had only felt love and to this day that is all I feel is love. What I understand now is my dad had some mental distress and he did the best he knew how to do. He loved me then and he loves me now. He was not equipped with the proper tools to show me his love. I was never angry with him instead my anger has been directed at my mom. I have been eating disorder behavior free for a year now. It still has a whisper that I do not ever become arrogant and that say I cannot be vigilant. What saved my life is the doctor who said I think you may have ADHD. After the diagnosis, my life came together. I worked through a divorce and it took a few years but my disordered eating behavior stopped. That is how bad it was. Stimulant medication with an active eating disorder that had cost me three years in and out of the hospital. What I know is it is over. I think too much about yesterday. It cost me my marriage. It cost me so much to never know why I felt that way. I couldn't do what other people could do. I was always told if you just try hard enough... Well, I did try and I continue to try. Luckily, now I am able to do what normal people do for the most part. I can make the deans list. I can take care of my children on my own but it does hurt and that is why I like this place.

I like this place because for so long I was never able to talk. I could talk but I could not say what I felt. Ever! I feel the tension leave my arms, my fingers, my entire body as I write. I am not accepted anywhere so it is hard to just let it out. It feels amazing.


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