Tears

My friend texted me the other day and asked..."How often do you cry? Maybe about living positively? Not being in Zambia? Anything?" My response made her say "Wow. You should write about that." So, here I go... (Please keep in mind that I am not looking for pity or sympathy in writing this, rather simply attempting to share some real honest feelings).

In the very beginning, I don't even remember crying. It was more of a feeling of emptiness rather than sadness. In my medical records from South Africa, the hospital doctor actually reported that I appeared to be "emotionally flat". I guess that is what shock looks like...

Some of the first tears I remember having were on the airplane, departing from South Africa and heading back to America. And for the next 17 hours of that flight, my eyes watered up anytime that I didn't distract myself by sleeping or staring at the TV screen.

In D.C. I cried a good bit, but it was somewhat structured... I cried mostly when I was talking to my counselor or family and friends. I cried during conversations with my roommate, and during phone calls with my ex-boyfriend. I cried when writing e-mails to other PCVs. Yet, I was doing pretty good and staying pretty strong overall.

Once I left D.C. and transitioned back "home", things got a little more difficult. The past couple months have been a bit of a constant, and pretty unpredictable, roller coaster. I've been struggling not only to deal with the HIV diagnosis and all that entails, but also just with the readjustment to life in America, and letting go of the people, and job, and dreams that I left behind.

How have I held up? That is hard to answer. It is constantly changing. I seem to do okay for a few days, or a week, or even longer... and then suddenly something triggers me, and all of the emotions that have been building up inside suddenly come rushing out. There have been times when I have thought about suicide. There have been times when I'm crying so hard that I hyperventilate. There have been times when I could just sit and stare at the wall for hours.

It is not always like this. There are good days. And there are bad days. There is no rhyme or reason to it. It is not something that you just get over. It is not something that just goes away. It might seem okay for awhile, but then another unexplainable moment occurs, when you just sit there and think, "Holy ****. How did I end up here?" You sit and replay the events in your mind, and it is just as hard to believe now, as it had been those first few days.

Like I said, there are good days. And there are bad days. These past couple weeks have been good days. As I told my friend, "I've been kind of riding on a high from this whole blog thing." But, unfortunately, yesterday was one of the bad days. I spent the whole day depressed and laying around, but still trying to push the bad thoughts away and hold it together. By about 10:00pm, everything had built up, and I lost it, and I launched into an uncontrollable crying and hyperventilating fit. I felt totally lost. I felt that I couldn't figure out ANYTHING in my life. Too many decisions. Where to live. Jobs. Relationships. Finances. Insurance. Doctors. Future. What future?

Thankfully, I had a friend with me, who understands all of these feelings, and who laid there and held me and waited for it to pass. It did pass. I slept through the night. And today, I went out and had a pretty productive day. I met with a new clinic and got the process started to get new doctors, and hopefully some counseling services...