An Admission

 Two years ago, my mom was in the hospital for bacterial pneumonia. She recovered. But was in the hospital for 42 days. 

In that time, the hope she would return helped me. 

Then she got sick with the same thing. I do not know the cause. I am not sick. I had a light case of pneumonia as a teenager after working in the rain. I know how tough it is. But it didn't cause death. With treatment, it doesn't always cause death. 

Instead my mom had congestive heart failure after they over-hydrated her. I do not know all the details but my sister does. She will have to handle this. I cannot.

I am falling apart mentally. I have anxiety all the time despite my medication. 

I have moments of extreme grief.

In January of 2015, my dad told me to always take care of her. 

I failed. My mom got sick and she's gone.

This hurts so much. 

I thought two years ago I would not be able to take it if my mom was gone. I was right. 

I always thought I would go when she did. Like Robert E Howard did when his mom died.

But I can't. I have Sala. I have my classmate Dwayne. Why cause them the feeling I have?

I will always have stories to write. I will always have my music. 

But they are not helping. Spore isn't helping. Nothing is. 

I don't know what I will do. I am facing bills that will take all my benefit to pay. What way is this to live?

 I don't want help. Well, not financially. I will need help with my mom's things.  

This pain will never go. Even if me and Sala have our own family. It depends on too much drama. But it has to be done. 

My mom told me that I would be okay. How? She knew I am mentally fucked up. 

I can't live by myself. My anxiety disorder will kill me. 

Not too soon. 

Fear

I have lived out here for 15 years. It is more or less what was home. Aged a lot out here, spent a lot of time alone out here.

That time alone... did it cause my anxiety disorder or my addiction to porn? Is it why I am afraid to get a new girlfriend?

It doesn't feel like home anymore. Ever since the death of my father, it has become a place of fear. I don't like being alone here. I am not usually but I when I am, panic sets in.

I don't like seeing the bed he was on when he passed. Have to pass it to go take a shower.

Memory is deeply affected as the places he was, they are still here as they were before.

I don't want to leave this home but I don't want to stay here. It stokes my grief. I am afraid that I would have to go far away, still in my native county, but far from here.

I feel afraid of changes. Where will my aging take place?

I am afraid, this fear stokes anxiety, which stresses, grinds on my P-gland, which has hurt severely for several days.

I will write a post about my male pain later. I will show you my parts so be mindful.

Anxiety

I was diagnosed with anxiety disorder originally in 2007. It was re-diagnosed in 2012 as generalized anxiety disorder and panic disorder.

I have anxiety in no matter what happens. My hands shake, I sweat, heart pounds, tense up, can't breathe.

When I bought this laptop on which I am writing this, I could barely talk, panic making it hard to breathe. I mean, it was Best Buy, not somewhere unfamiliar.

I do not believe I will ever get better. I feel it worse than ever.

My father's death has added a new aspect to it, grief, fear, and hopelessness. It makes it hard to sleep, food doesn't taste right. I can't enjoy Pepsi, even, and it is my favorite cola.

I don't feel so bad the later in the day it is. I have anxiety management. I can talk about this even if it is ugly.

I watch tv, I get up and walk around, I focus breathe, take a hot bath, do the m-thing, anything to reduce panic. Panic attacks can come from anything.

I just got my hair cut. I'll take a picture later. I can do that because I know the hair cutter isn't going to hurt me. It is unpleasant to be touched but that is expected so it doesn't cause panic.

I do not have panic in my hometown so bad, familiarity. Sometimes it happens but not often. What I do have panic in is going to any Walmart. I also have it when going to the doctor.

I can go somewhere unfamiliar and have a full-on panic attack. This is avoidable.

I had a panic attack at my dad's service. I did my best to hide it but I was also weeping and that feeling, unfamiliar to me, makes it more intense.

I will always have grief that my dad is gone. I am growing to accept the loss but it is hard. It is just the lonely space in my heart that will always be a void.

These feelings come and go and when they come, severe grief pain. My anxiety gets involved and it becomes a storm like Katrina.

This has to be addressed so I will be going to the doctor and hopefully can get a new medicine.

I will be Arthelius again but it will take time.

Severe Grief

My dad's funeral was today. I made it most of the way through before breaking down during the prayer. When it was over, I went to the casket and said 'Goodbye, Daddy', and just broke down. I don't know why I am hurting so bad.

My dad was paralyzed, had a stroke that made him that way 17 years ago. It was only a matter of time before it happened again.

It did in his sleep on the morning of Feb 3rd.

I don't know what really happened. He had blood pressure issues and felt bad the night before. No sign he would leave us in the night or morning. I am positive he did not intend to go.

Now that he is gone, a constant in my life gone. I  wont get the verbal abuse anymore, that won't be missed but the wit, the experiences, the jokes, memories, everything he was.

You can't know the pain this causes me. I can't sleep. I can barely eat. I mean, come on, it's my father, not a child or wife, neither I have.

I can't think of him, I will cry.

I am 39 years old, a boy shouldn't cry. My cousin and my sister's friend both told me it was all right to. It is a sense of loss I was not prepared for but who is, really? I do not know if I will heal from this.

I have decided that it is time to close this blog. I can't be amused or light-hearted enough to write a memorable post.

I will leave this up for a while.

Grief

I was hopeful that my 39th year would be better. I mean, when we get past this accursed winter.

My father died on Tuesday morning. He was 59.

The grief is far stronger than I expected. See, I have expected this for the last 17 years, from when he had a debilitating stroke that paralyzed him. He lived with extreme pain ever since.

I do not know exactly what happened to him. I don't want to think it is his aneurysms, his original problem, but more than likely, that is the case.

This is a damaging blow to my family. The pain of loss is too intense, probably always will be.

I will shave tomorrow, lessen my resemblance to him as much as I can as not to cause my Aunts any pain because I look like him enough. It hurts me looking in a mirror.

Arthelius the Ghost has no offerings about death. He merely stands in sympathetic repose.

Any love you have would be appreciated in this difficult time.