Grief

 

 

Christina "Chrissie" Ann Steljes, 12.1.1989 - 7.10.2013

 

To my best friend...

 

You belong among the wildflowers
You belong in a boat out at sea
Sail away, kill off the hours
You belong somewhere you feel free

Run away, find you a lover
Go away somewhere all bright and new
I have seen no other
Who compares with you

You belong among the wildflowers12/1
You belong in a boat out at sea
You belong with your love on your arm
You belong somewhere you feel free

Run away, go find a lover
Run away, let your heart be your guide
You deserve the deepest of cover
You belong in that home by and by

You belong among the wildflowers
You belong somewhere close to me
Far away from your trouble and worry
You belong somewhere you feel free
You belong somewhere you feel free

 

 

Grief. It shatters you.

 

I mentioned in my entry on death in the community of the mentally ill that I have lost a best friend to anorexia, Chrissie. I also mentioned Gulliver, the very first of a string of losses at the age of 16, to suicide...I said:

 

I was sixteen years old the first time someone I cared about died as a direct result of mental illness. He was fourteen years old, and he committed suicide. We had been together in a hospital for two weeks when I was fourteen and he had just turned thirteen. He was sweet, and funny, and incredibly smart. His smile was devious and lovely. His name was Gulliver, as of the stories.

I remember getting the phone call from a mutual friend, and how something cracked inside of me as tears streamed down my face at my introduction to grief; little did I know, this introduction was to crescendo years later at the age of 24, when I would lose one of the most dear people in the world to me.

His family was Jewish, and so he was buried the next day. I had never been to a funeral and didn't know what to wear. It seemed custom to wear black, and the only black pants I had (laugh if you want) had a hole in the crotch, so I taped them from the inside out. He was buried at the very top of a steep hill in a Jewish cemetery in Oakland, California. I met my friend at the bottom of the hill as I noticed how crowded it was, how many friends he had had, and how many people had loved him. The sun was mocking us that day; it beat down on our backs, and I sweat as we walked up the nearly perpendicular hill that led to his open grave. I could hear the tape crunching and swishing against itself - crinkle, crinkle, crinkle. It was almost funny, but not quite, and definitely not at the time.

That was my first experience with one of my peers dying. The next that comes to mind was a woman I was a bit closer with - we had been in a treatment program together in Sacramento, California, and she too committed suicide, though she had suffered from anorexia for many, many years and it's plausible that her suicide was related. Her name was Katie, and she was so loving and bright and brilliant. She had nearly completed her PhD in Molecular, Cellular, and Integrative Physiology at the University of California in Davis. She was a lovely human being, and an enormous loss for the world.

Then someone I had heard of, but didn't know personally. Then a few more. And as each pillar fell it seemed they grew closer and closer to me, until I knew one day that I would lose someone I loved very much.

And I can't lie and say I didn't see it coming with her, with my best friend Chrissie, but I was not expecting it on the day it did come. As mentioned in another entry I will not be sharing details of her death that are not well known. Her eating disorder killed her. That crack inside me that had formed when Gulliver died burst, and all of me shattered.

I am still picking up the pieces. July 10th, 2013. The day one of the people I loved the most in the world died at the age of 23, and I became horribly intimate with grief.

 



A year ago at this precise moment, my best friend was living out the last hours of her life.

I shattered. Something made of glass inside of me burst and shattered - this week, it feels as though I am beginning to shatter again, in slow motion. The grief had become less acutely painful and more of a lethargic sort of throbbing agony, moments throughout each day wherein I teared up, listened to songs, read emails or cards, looked at photographs...grief has become an enormous presence in my personal life. I miss my best friend. And this week the grief has again begun to crescendo; someone said to me on Chrissie's three month anniversary, out of love and honesty, "Sofia, she's dead every day." I respect how matter of fact that was, though of course I burst into tears when I read it on my computer screen. She's dead every day. And so why does the year mark feel so significant to me? It feels more real.

 

It comes in waves. Some days I forget, and I want to call or text her. At her sister's wedding this past month I looked around for her at the practice ceremony, believing for an instant that I had cheated death and would find her there. I could feel her sitting next to me as I sat outside of her aunt's house smoking a cigarette, hear her making her sarcastic jokes and her voice cracking like it always did. 

 

I'll come back to this entry throughout the next few days and write more objectively (and some more about my personal experience) about grief.



Not abandoning this blog - a bit of a personal update.

Hello all,

So. I wanted to touch base and let the people who have sort of poked me about this blog know that I'm not discontinuing writing it by any means - I've simply been exhausted with treatment. I've been here in Denver for just over three weeks now and am feeling more settled and adjusted than before, though of course still homesick. I'm doing quite well as far as how things look on paper - no behaviors, Level 2, able to go on passes with peers and do well food wise - but the depression is relentless, and the hopelessness overwhelming.
I'm being honest, because that's part of why I started this blog. I don't want to get too deep personally, but I did want to update you all and let you know I am doing as well as can be expected and will be keeping up with this blog, probably not as much while I am in treatment as I have things to focus on all day long and am incredibly busy. But I'm still here!