i’ve been able to sense death around me since early childhood

one night when i was four, i woke up in the middle of the night and found my parents talking to my older brother about how our dad’s father had passed. it’s like their grief was so palpable it pulled me from sleep.

then when i was five, i recognized my first disassociative type of episode while staring at myself in the mirror and contemplating my immortality. seeing myself from above, i imagined descending into heaven to be with my loved ones who would inevitably die before me

mortality* lol but then at eight years old, my third grade teacher who had become very dear to me died of a blood clot in her sleep. i knew before they told us, and even mentioned to a classmate that she wasn’t coming back to school after falling ill

by the time my great grandpa passed after battling dementia when i was 16, i’d become no stranger to loss. honestly the timing couldn’t have been worse. i had just survived sexual assault from a close friend that had even been in the same class and lost the same teacher as kids

he’s the only person i’ve ever had murderous feelings toward, but i settled for egging the bastard’s car to maintain my morals. anyway, i had never realized before just how connected all of these occurrences are

at 19, when the woman i planned on spending the rest of my life with attempted to take her own, it broke me. hours upon hours in the emergency room, pacing, crying, arguing with the one i love most

then i had to break the news to her mom. that was honestly the hardest part. how do you tell your future mother in law that her child has given up not only on both of you, but life itself. that realization left me doubled over sobbing in the parking lot of my therapist’s office-

-in the middle of the night. i couldn’t go home. i could barely breathe. a friend had to talk me down over the phone from committing myself to the same fate as my lover. i thought if i survived an OD then maybe i’d be able to see her in the hospital, or die and escape the pain

she ended our relationship after realizing she needed to work on herself, but i never stopped thinking about her. this borderline obsession with healing our mutual past drove me to a really dark place. since i thought it was my job to heal her and she didn’t want my help, my life

seemingly became devoid of purpose. i’d been helping others cope with loss and grief since before i could even speak* - no i didn’t include the EARLY trauma in this thread.

it wasn’t until a few months later after my own su*cide attempt that i realized there’s more to me than what i can provide to other people