What does it feel like to be out of control? I'd like to know. To let loose of my emotion, to properly express my feelings, to spill it all out without worrying of being judged.
Life goes on after I came back to Toronto last March. I live my day to day life pretty much like I used to. I mean, I'd talk about it with close friends and I think of her constantly. Sometimes I'd cry in Yves' arms in the middle of the night. But overall I feel like I'm on the right track, calm and rational; mourning quietly while not letting it affect my day to day life. I sleep well most nights and eat as much as I used to. I wonder how people would think of me, whether I seem too calm, too much like an outsider. I want to talk about it with my siblings but they don't seem to want to open up. But it's normal, right? Maybe it's just as hard for them to open up to me as for me to them, or harder. At least I could pretend that those dreams I had were real for a little longer. Plus I haven't tried that hard to talk to them. At times I get the guilt, the anger and blaming, but they are all relatively controlled - I know it's something I have to deal with.
I tried Reiki, but it didn't do anything to me. I couldn't make myself call those support groups for help because I've seem fine, and why should I stir the pot and mess things up?
I stop talking to people about it because I don't want to hear them say that I'm strong. Often time I secretly hope that someone will grab my arm, look me in the eyes, and say to me: Quincin, you are not okay, you are not acting like yourself at all, and you sure need help.
I don't want to be strong. I don't want to be in control. In fact, I want to lose control. I want to let my emotion get me so I could spill it all out like a hurt animal or hungry baby without worrying about anything at all. Just like what most people are experiencing. I'm tired of being strong and rational.
Lately my friends were in town to visit. With them around I began to realize that those happy time that we had spent together back in the old days were so far from us now. What H and I went through completely changed us into different girls. Reality, life decision have dragged us apart physically, and coming to realize this traumatizes my heart. And then there's Alex's problem. Hearing A talk about his problems also take me back to the whole depression thing. I tried to be a good friend and give good advice but really I envy him. My advices and comments only make me realize how much I could have done, how little attention I've paid to my family, and still this hasn't improved. Compared to me, A is a much better son and big brother than I am a daughter and big sister.