Sign in to follow this  
Followers 0

Overcoming Wave's suicide

13 posts in this topic

It's so weird being in here, writing stuff he will never read. Because I'm so used to this forum meaning him. Discussions with him and thoughts about him and me checking if he was online regularly if we didn't speak, worrying when his content seemed too much up in the clouds, worrying when he didn't write anything at all. I looked up to him so much, I was so amazed by his mind. But I was also so angry at him for spending so much time being in his own head thinking about God instead of just living and being and breathing with me.

There's a memory I had forgotten, but it has kept returning after he has died. I had moved to the other city then, to study, but we talked on the phone, of course, It wasn't during one of the break periods. But I remember I was still surprised that he called me. That it was me he called. He was in shock, he had fallen off his bike, you know he used to drive so fast and recklessly it was insane, with his long-limbed alien-body no one could control - him the least! When I remember it, I can see him as if I am standing next to him looking at his wounds in the bathroom mirror, but it was just a phone call.

He was laughing almost, from the shock, he said he probably should go to the hospital. he described his wounded face to me. There's something about that memory, I think it comes up because it felt so normal and earthly and I felt so... Like if by calling me, he said to me - yes, you are the one I call when I'm hurt and don't know what to do. And I felt able to comfort him. And included.

I asked if I should come to his city and go with him to the hospital. He of course said no, but I should not have listened.

Before he died I don't think I really understood regret. I thought I could go through life without ever regretting anything - because everything happens for a reason right. And the universe has a plan. I do still believe that. I can never not believe that, and he wouldn't have wanted me to. He would laugh at me if I lost faith, I can almost hear him. Rolling his eyes at me - like God in all is the most obvious thing.  But fuck, what I wouldn't give to be able to turn back time and take that fucking two-hour train ride to sit with him in that fucking hospital, holding his hand. Pressing my head against his chest. Kissing his shoulder and neck and fingers. And now I'm crying and it's probably better to stop writing now because I really think I should do this in small steps.

I think it could be good for me though, to write about it in here. I feel people in here know him in a way that is comforting to me. They know his mind and his words and his empathy and all of his stupid trips and contemplations. 




Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

There is this scene in breaking bad that really made an impact on me. I usually don't like watching movies and series that are violent or even just exciting, because it makes me nervous. But we used to do it together. It was more okay for me when he was there, and I think it was a way for us to connect. There is a line in one of those songs that he listened to a lot: 


Usually, I put
Something on TV
So we never think
About you and me

But today I see
Our reflections
Clearly in Hollywood
Laying on the screen


It feels kind of dull when I read it like this, but cliché things are cliché for a reason. 

The last thing we watched together was The OA I think. I remember us being so freaked out because whenever we watched a new episode some synchronicity would happen and it would make reality feel really malleable and blurry. It wouldn't surprise me if that series was cursed or infused with some sort of metaphysical-cyber-psychedelics. 

I had a wolf-hoodie on my favorites list in this thrift-store app I have on my phone. It is special because the girl in OA has one exactly like it. I knew Wave would find it totally epic if I got it. But we were on the break. I bought it now. Too late for him to see. it's so absurd. Wearing it makes me happy and sad at the same time. I just really wish he hadn't died.

I keep going back in my mind. It has become a little better. In the beginning, it was unbearable. I was constantly in my imagination. What if I had said that instead of that. What if I hadn't moved. What if I had called that day when I wanted to but didn't. What if I had been more persistent. What if I hadn't been such a slut and such a bitch and such a

The scene from breaking bad is the scene (obviously) where Jane dies from Jessie. It's something about the choice Walt makes about letting her die because he thinks he knows what's best for Jessie. And then something about who has the blame. Because if Jessie had not been there, then Jane wouldn't have started using drugs again. But if Walt hadn't been there, then she wouldn't have been sleeping on her back, suffocating in her own puke. And if Jane hadn't died then her dad wouldn't have failed at work, resulting in the plane crash killing hundreds of people. But then maybe if she had not died, they would have continued to use heroin and ruin their lives, and maybe end up hurting their own child if they had one or maybe dying both of them. So maybe Walt actually did the best thing for Jessie when he didn't save Jane. But what if they had succeeded in becoming clean and happy. Then Walt just killed a girl and in a way hundreds of people, for nothing. And what if then Jessie dies or ruins his life or doesn't do anything that helps anyone, then it really is for nothing.

I feel so stupid writing this. Because of course, I know that nothing is no one's fault. And there is no way to know if anything is for the better or worse because it's a loop that never ends. it was Wave who showed me the story about the farmer. 


Once upon a time, there was an old farmer who had worked his crops for many years. One day his horse ran away. Upon hearing the news, his neighbors came to visit. “Such bad luck,” they said sympathetically.

“Maybe,” the farmer replied.

The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it three other wild horses. “How wonderful,” the neighbors exclaimed.

“Maybe,” replied the old man.

The following day, his son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown, and broke his leg. The neighbors again came to offer their sympathy for his misfortune.

“Maybe,” answered the farmer.

The day after, military officials came to the village to draft young men into the army. Seeing that the son’s leg was broken, they passed him by. The neighbors congratulated the farmer on how well things had turned out.

“Maybe,” said the farmer.

--Zen Parable


it's funny how life is. Whenever I see God I'm gonna fucking punch him in the stomach because some shit is just not funny. I know Wave would tell me this story now if he saw me sitting here mourning him. And I guess that is actually what he is doing because I remember it, and he is inside me.

I feel like his suicide just turned my life up at super level hard mode. And I don't feel very capable but I'm really just trying to trust that the self who is me outside from time and space knows what she is doing. And that Wave knows what he is doing. I'm really trying to hold on to faith.




Edited by Sine

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

I dreamt that I had lost not only Wave but also my mom and I was a child. Later in the dream, I looked at pictures of him with his mom, realizing how I forgot so many small things, like how he took forever to get ready when we were supposed to go somewhere. 

At the end of the dream, right before waking up, there was this sense of being able to talk with him and be near him. 

I used to be the kind of person that never pressed the snooze button, but now it has become so difficult to get out of bed in the morning.

Something incredible happened last week. The writing school called me, asking me to come in for an interview. I'm so proud that they picked me because they only pick 12 out of about 400 applications. It's not set in stone yet, though. I have to bring a new text to the interview. Only around 6-8 get finally accepted to become students.  

But even if I don't get in, I'm very proud that I succeeded in writing the application - because that was in February, only two months after he died, in the middle of my exams and my mom's exams that I helped her with. And they also said on the phone, "no matter what, you should take this as a huge acknowledgment."

It was weird being so happy after the call because I wanted to share it with Wave. I told it to all of my other friends, but no one was him. In the evening, I lit a candle and looked at his pictures while speaking it aloud to him, but It was not the same. I miss hugging him. I know I can turn this around somehow; I know I will at some point be better at connecting to him inside me and that he, in that way, will help me to direct love towards myself. I have a deep intuition about this, but it's not a straight road. 

The interview is this Saturday. I have to bring a text, and I have the perfect one, but the problem is that it is too long. So I'll have to decide whether to use another text or cut in it - and then which part should I cut? I get so anxious about important decisions. I'm tired of that. I don't want it to be like that anymore.

It's such a significant opportunity for me right now to learn how to become my own loving parent instead of crying on the phone to Wave or trying to guess what my mom would want me to do. I make an effort to see clearly and not freak out.

Yesterday I was convinced that because I felt so insecure and worried, the interview would go wrong, and I won't be able to create a good text. Today I'm trying to take it slow, ignoring thoughts about how other people are working hard right now, doing real jobs, and that I'm a failure for sitting here Wednesday at noon, trying to soften my heart and take deep breaths. I just finished my bachelor project two weeks early, for fuck sake. It will never be good enough for that internal voice anyway, so I might just sit here.

I got a book from one of my girlfriends about "reclaiming the feminine power" it says that according to the day I'm at in my menstruation cycle this week, my body is experiencing a withdrawal from oestrogen, testosterone, and progesterone hormones, meaning I will feel more insecure and have thoughts like "I'm not good enough" - it also means I will have a better intuition though, and be better at detecting bullshit (it said that)  whatever that means. It was helpful to find such a logical explanation for my feelings. That's precisely what he always did for me. Fuck I miss him so much. It's difficult to feel the pain and not run away from it, but I try. I'm thinking about what Leo once said about becoming a superconductor regarding emotional processing. 

The characters in the story have a lot of Wave in them. And me. In the world of my writings, we are less separate; it's as If both of our persons were just crushed and then crumbled randomly into these new avatars inside the story. It's like looking at each other and being looked at, at the same time. But I started writing it before he died. It's painful because now writing becomes a little bit like dreaming -  like it's a place I can be with him, but then when I get out of the state, I realize again he is dead. 







Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

A lot of good things are happening in my life, but it's so frustrating that I still feel so sad and scared all the time anyway. 

I got accepted at the National Academy for Creative Writing which is like............ INSANE.

But not only that -  the call-back-interview went ... I thought I was dreaming! They only had praise to say about the text I brought. It feels unreal to say it out loud here, but it's true. I was so confused afterward, but it happened. I never got so much praise in one chunk in my whole life. 

It was painful not to be able to share this experience with Wave. I felt so happy then so sad around and around.

I think that day, after the interview, was the day I was the closest to calling his phone number after he had died. 

Then a few days after, they called and said I got a spot. So I'm one of the ten people picked out from 500 writers. It's so crazy. I just want to take it in and enjoy it. Why do hurtful experiences and negative comments always impact you more than positive ones? If someone told me I was a lousy writer, I would believe it with no doubt. But now, when I got proof that many important writers in my country think I'm decent... I still doubt that it's true for real. 

Then I went to my third Vipassana retreat, and I think I failed. The other times I have felt so "enlightened" and glowy afterward. This time I came out more - or at least the same amount of depressed as before, and I still have all the thoughts about joining Wave.

And then also, my leg is weird now; it sleeps no matter what I do, even when I run. Maybe life is leaving my body slowly. I am sick of myself and sick of this grief.

I have been thinking about last summer when I felt so free and happy, what it was that I did.

  • I meditated daily and did shadow work and rituals alone
  • I spend a lot of time alone
  • I was in sort of nature (at least more than now)
  • I had one very close friend that I talked with daily, and I felt loved by him
  • I had a rule to only make dates with friends and such on the weekends
  • I was at university
  • I prioritized writing a lot, often in the morning before I walked the dog
  • I lowered my expectations to myself regarding school work
  • I listened to Bentinho Massaro a lot and also some Leo and some Matt Kahn every day
  • I planned every week ahead 

I should get some of these back; maybe it could help. But I don't know; sometimes it can hurt to listen to people like Bentinho or Leo when you are stuck in suffering.

I want to meditate more and prioritize writing.

I haven't been writing nearly as much as I wished these months.

I don't know; it just doesn't feel easy to do stuff like I used to. I want to sleep all the time; it's not like me at all. I miss him so much. 






Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites


I came back to my apartment today after spending some weeks with my family, so I felt like doing this:


Family overview 

Me: I'm 27, enneagram type 4, and INFJ.

L (25), type 8, I think maybe ENTP, but I'm not sure
G (21), type 2, probably ESFP or ENFP
S (16), type 8, probably ENTJ 

Mom: Type 1, ENFP


Summary of the family story 

Mom was an alcoholic and drug addict until I was in 7th grade when she went into treatment. We had moved a lot and gone to many different schools because she had had a lot of different violent partners, especially one who was insane and followed us for a long time. We've always been very poor, struggled to get food and stuff, and her financial skills have always been awful. She also went to prison for a short time, where we had to stay with the violent partner. As children, we have witnessed her get beaten up a lot, we have been threatened with a gun by one of her violent partners, our homes have been messy, and all that stuff. I also remember being home alone when some sort of, maybe gang member or something, broke in, probably because she owed them money. Then, right before I started high school, she moved to a treatment center, and we moved to foster care. It wasn't so good, I and L moved to the same one that was two elderly rich people who after a very short time got bored with us and left us alone, and G and S had it worse, they moved to one with a lot of small children where the children were exposed to violence and general neglect. G and S moved back to my mom when she got home after a year or two; I and L stayed until we finished school, then moved to our own places. Two years ago, I took a loan to pay for my mom to become educated as an addict counselor and be able to support herself better because she has been very dependent on me, even after she stopped drinking and using. Wave helped me a lot in making out all the financial things to think about and making a budget for my mom to follow. It's so weird now that she has finished he couldn't celebrate it with me. 


Family situation atm 

Everything has become a lot better with our family and my mom, especially it has been a significant step for my mom to get an education and start working on paying back her debt. However, there is still a lot of co-dependency and unhealthy patterns; for example, the scapegoat pattern Teal Swan talks about is something I recognize a lot. I become the scapegoat because I'm more emotional and sensitive than the others, + I'm a girl. G also often becomes the scapegoat because he has addiction problems (gambling) and is more sensitive. It's like the group always needs someone to bully. 

Even though our past is a bit fucked up, we all have become somewhat successful (for societal standards) -  at least compared to what you'd expect. I was in university until recently (quit to start art school (creative writing) but will probably return), L is in university too, doing his master's degree, G is working on his gambling issues and is developing some stage blue discipline working at a grocery store, he also recently finished high school and got an acknowledgment for being the student who had improved the most. S is probably the most normal and healthy functioning of all of us, maybe because he was so young when everything was truly shitty. He struggled with being bullied in school and was very insecure, but he has some strength in him, he started working out a lot and working on his social skills, and now he has a lot of friends and seems well functioning. 



I think stuff didn’t end up worse because even though our history is filled with addiction, violence, abuse, and neglect, we are all somewhat psychologically flexible. Even when my mom was drinking, we talked a lot of stuff through. During the periods she wasn't drinking, she was very loving, and despite all of this, I think I somehow always felt love. Maybe not in its purest form, and I don't completely get it because, for sure, things have been terrible, and there are a lot of episodes where I felt everything else than love. I don't know. It's like some belief or trust that deep down, we are loved by her, despite it all. It also matters a lot that she went into treatment and made an effort to become more conscious and develop herself. Even though she is afraid of me taking psychedelics and was afraid of me being with Wave when he fell more and more into the DMT world, she has been to three Vipassana courses. She has experienced some mystical experiences during her youth that have made her aware that the world is more than physical. I think it also made a difference that when she divorced my dad (she only had me and L then), she moved with us to a therapy center where she learned a lot about psychotherapy, Carl Jung and stuff, and stage green, so she has implemented that into her way of raising us. It's probably important to mention here that my parents divorced because my dad was suspected of having abused my brother and me sexually, something that has been unraveling in me for the last three years, I'm still not sure what to believe, but it would explain a lot of things. Also, my mom worked as a high-class prostitute while she was with him; he says that she wanted to herself and was on drugs all the time; she says that he pressured her and was drinking and being unfaithful. It's difficult what to believe, and there is probably some truth to both of their stories. 

 L and I live in the same city by ourselves (I have a dog though). S and G live with her in a city about two hours away. 



Edited by Sine

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

Today I made a photo book from the pictures I have taken during our relationship. I was surprised that there wasn't more. I don't think of that as a bad thing necessarily; of course, I would like to have more pictures now that he is gone, but I like to think that we didn't think too much about taking pictures because we were so sure that we would always have each other. 

I ordered two books, one to keep and one to give to his parents. I put text between the pictures, writing a little bit of our story. I put blank pages at the end of it; in that way, I can add something if I feel like it later.

It took the whole day to make it.

I have felt miserable since I came home from Vipassana. I am trying to make this day into some sort of symbolic turning point. He is dead, and that's how it is, and I'm going to keep on living - is becoming a kind of mantra.

The thought of joining him becomes very heavy sometimes; it can feel like the most meaningful solution.

But I know deep down that my purpose for being here is important and that it shouldn't be over yet.

I know that I can gain so much wisdom, strength, and actualization from experiencing this experience; it would be a shame to cancel it out because I'm afraid of a bit of loneliness. After all, I am sure we'll meet again, so I don't have to rush it.

When I'm in contact with this (the wise part of me), I can almost hear his voice; I come into this state where I know exactly what he would say. It feels like he is having so much fun. It feels like he is so big and small - both at the same time, simultaneously dancing and flying around like a piece of light or a tiny blue star, moving too fast for me to grasp. And he is smiling, he is smiling so much, and he often does it with my lips as he borrows them for a couple of seconds. I love his smile, it was the most beautiful thing in the world, and now it's the most beautiful thing in the universe. 

One of the days I was waiting at the train station and this train moved through without stopping, it was such a great noise and such a great rush and the wind. I felt it was him shaking me up in all of my bones, shaking me with the noise and the current of that train, saying to me, "come on, wake up."

I need to wake up. I don't want to lose my life too, especially not now when I have to live for both of us. 




Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

I got the books. They turned out well, and I'm excited about adding more to them, though I postpone it all the time because it's emotionally challenging to look at them. I'll visit his parents in a little more than a week. I'm very nervous about it, but I hope it can bring me a little more .... closure is maybe not the right word. Peace? And I want to show them that I love him and am here if they ever want to ask about our relationship or who he was to me. 

I'm improving at being productive and working towards my goal (getting 1st complete draft of the book ready). I want to stop comparing myself to who I was before he died because it doesn't make sense. I must deal with what is present now, and what I am capable of now. 

My body is acting weird. After Vipassana, my right leg sleeps in almost every position, I worry about it, and it annoys me so much - and then it annoys me that it annoys me. I damaged my food because I thought running to get the blood flowing was a good idea. It was a bad idea. I'm stressed that I'm getting older and my body is getting older. I worry that I won't ever be able to make a family. I have shifted a lot the past week between wanting to, maybe, thinking about if I could meet someone that I could become as close to as I was with Wave, but even just writing it makes me cry and fills me with so much shame. I'm so sorry I was so fucked up that I couldn't just stay with our relationship when I had it, and now I dare to wish I could have a second chance with someone else. I also feel so gross having these thoughts because it has barely been a year since I last kissed him, and it hasn't even been six months since we buried him.

I shouldn't be writing this right now; I should be working. 

I want to be compassionate, not only towards others but also towards myself. I want to see things from a higher perspective. I want to hold the conviction that everything is all right and that I am loved and guided through this experience. 

It's probably a good idea that I meditate before going back to work, and if I don't get so much stuff done today as yesterday, then it's okay because I just woke up with a lot of fear and worry that I had to deal with and that's not my fault. 



Skærmbillede 2022-07-05 kl. 19.04.14.png

Edited by Sine

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

I'll visit his parents tomorrow and give them the book. 

There seems to be a theme around me these days; that it's essential to let growth in wisdom be followed by growth in love. 

I want to learn how to balance loving myself and loving others. Love towards myself will end up being loving towards others because if I'm not in a state of love, my presence and actions won't be any good anyway. Why is it then that I keep overruling myself? I do things that feel not-loving towards certain parts of me, telling myself that it is the most loving thing to do for the other person. Do we always know what the most loving thing to do is? Sometimes I get unsure, sometimes, I don't trust that I know what is best for me, and maybe I don't. Then how can I know how to love myself? 

I'm not nervous about tomorrow. I feel numb. I know his mom's face; she looks so much like him. 

I'm proud that I made the book. It took me a whole day non-stop. It's short stories about our relationship and all the pictures, drawings I made, poems, and stuff like that. I also put in a short letter thanking them for giving birth to him, saying I'm so grateful for the experience of loving him. I hope she will see how much he meant to me, how much impact he had on my life, how much he made me become a better person, and how much he taught me about love. I hope she will feel proud of having raised a son like that; I hope she will feel that she did a good job as a mom, even though he made the decision he did. The night before the funeral, I felt he asked me to help her; I visualized sending love and warmth to her with him; now, I hope this book will also be something like that for her. 

It would be so awesome if I could sleep for a whole night tonight. 

I want to get this under my skin; Nobody knows you the way you know yourself. I want to become someone who trusts myself the most about knowing what is good for me and what is not. I want to become someone who doesn't need to ask other people for their opinions and advice constantly. I want to know how to love myself. I want to take all the love he had for me; I want to take the way he looked at me and put it deep into myself. 


Skærmbillede 2022-07-15 kl. 20.06.19.png


Skærmbillede 2022-07-05 kl. 20.22.13.png

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

I don't know how to keep living with this.

The reality is that I have to.

I feel so alone; no one can experience this with me. I can tell our story a million times, but I can never hear it again because he is not here to tell it back.

I woke up just now. Having spent yesterday at his parent's, I went to bed almost immediately after returning home. 

W talked for hours. So many things had happened during the half year we had the break.

One thing is that there had been an episode where they had taken him to the psychiatric emergency department. He had been told he would get discharged almost immediately if they took him in, so he had declined it. His mom seemed angry about that. She said that even if that's the case, they shouldn’t necessarily say that because then, of course, he wouldn't go. 

Another thing is that the day of the suicide was the day before he had a scheduled appointment with a psychiatrist at the hospital. I don't know why for sure, but that information felt important to me, maybe because I have felt bad for not contacting his parents or pushing him more to get help. I'm not sure, maybe that's not completely it. And I know the system is fucked up. All they do is throw anti-depressants and sleep meds around everywhere instead of helping people heal the roots of the problems.

He had been given some sleep medication, but he didn't want to take it, he only took half a dose because he was afraid to get addicted. And I'm like, wtf. Any addiction would be better than you doing this! and also, if you ingested so many weird health supplements, drugs, and medicines all the time, also illegal ones, then why couldn't you just try some fucking sleeping pills. It makes me so angry.

They showed me his final letter. I became angry reading it, I haven't felt so much anger in this before. I had looked sort of forward to reading it.

I thought it would help me understand better and get more closure, but I couldn't recognize his voice at all.

It was two papers, not many words. He said he had an amazing life, amazing parents, and amazing friends, but that he couldn't sleep and couldn't take it anymore. He said he wasn't there, that he couldn't watch a movie or have conversations, he said life is beautiful, but only if you can be present, and that he couldn't be present, that he wasn't there anymore.

But then. Why. not. just. do. the. fucking. fucking. fucking. sleeping. pills.

There is this feeling. I have tried it a couple of times, where you are in the middle of a breakup fight, and you feel sad and scared, but beneath it all, you also feel a little bit excited about your decision and that things are going to change. But then the other part calms down, and you sit and sort of open your hearts to each other, and you feel connected. Then a part of you actually feels scared that you won't need to break up anyway, it's like a feeling deep down that you almost won't admit to yourself, and you might even say something that will ruin the connection or get the discussion starting again.

I think he might have had that feeling, that he had made the decision and now he couldn't handle to change his plans, or he felt that tiny bit of excitement and probably a lot of relief, so he didn't want to put himself into a scenario that would make him change his mind, thinking he might have to go through all of this again at a later point. Now he just wanted to get it over with.

At the end of the letter, he had written down a number to a tinder girl he had been seeing and a small message to her. I knew he was seeing her even when we thought about starting couples therapy. It hurt a lot, which was unexpected because usually, I have felt completely good about him having experiences with other girls. Maybe it's because I feel sad he didn't write anything to me. Maybe it's because I realize that he had grown closer to her, having spent a year and a half sort of dating her. His father told me they only spend time together on the weekends, and that is also how I understood it. As if it was mostly a sexual thing. Also, because he talked so much about our relationship while he had her, and the last time I saw him, he had just woken up from sleeping with some other girl even. I don't know, I feel stupid for obsessing so much over this. It's just that I'm so sorry that I wasn't there for those last six months and that she was there and got to know him right until the end. Wow, I feel so angry at her, It's a long time since I've felt jealous like this, not since high school. I feel like I could hit her. 

They gave me one of his hoodies and one of his t-shirts. It's so weird to see them lying on my floor as if he just took them off and went to the shower or something, as if he will be here in a minute. It's like he misses inside them. I don't know how I feel about them. In one way, I want to wear them all the time and never take them off, in another way, I want to put them away and never look at them again. His father told me that's how he has felt about pictures. He said he had been worried that it would be too difficult to have me visiting because when they look at me, they are so reminded of him, and also because I said I would bring the book I made with photographs. They really appreciated it. His dad was surprised in a good way when I said it was for them to keep. He said it multiple times. 

They invited me to come with them to their summerhouse next month, where they will spread his ashes out on the sea. I think it is the best idea. It was his brothers' idea. Wave in the Ocean. 

I said I would very much like to come and be a part of it but that I thought they should discuss it as a family and then let me know later if they still wanted me to come. I hope they won't change their minds, but their needs come first in this. 

I opened up to them about how I felt lonely in the grief because I wasn't part of his friend's group for real. They said they had thought about inviting the people from the funeral over for his birthday in the fall. I would like that, but fuck how much better it would be if it was just a regular birthday and he would be there. 

They also gave me back a birthday present I had given him once. it's an orbit mobile that resembles a planet with rings around it. I have hung it in the window over my bed, I looked at it while falling asleep yesterday. I feel mixed about it now because I feel sad looking at it, but it is also so pretty and reminds me so much of him and what we shared. 

I feel so ashamed, especially for the early part of our relationship, when we were 20-21. And it is from then that his parents remember me the most. I wasn't a very good girlfriend. I was picking on him a lot about small stupid things. I was so stupid and childish, I didn't know how to behave or be nice, and I didn't know anything about love. I was picking on him because he couldn't put up a hook for that stupid mobile. It had been lying under the bed for a long time. Then I said I would marry him if he ever actually put it up. But I didn't.

I wish I could get just one more chance to love him. I know in some ways, you could say I get second chances all the time, for he is other people just as much as he was himself, and I can almost hear him say that in my head. But you know what I mean, I just wish I could kiss him. Him, exactly him.

I tried to explain our complicated relationship a little bit to them, I think they got a better understanding of how big of a part of my life he was, even though we were apart a lot of the time. But I also think they thought it sounded crazy. I told his father how Wave had said to me that he needed to be with the tinder girl to learn some particular things and that I needed to be with someone else I slept with at that time to learn some other particular things, and he connected in with some astrological stuff, and then, when we had done that and learned those things, then we would be ready to be together. And his father just shook his head, saying that this was escaping from his fear into some sort of philosophical reveries, and it just hit me. That we think we are so special, so enlightened, so developed, but sometimes people who just live without thinking too much about it can teach us a lot, sometimes they are so much wiser, we kill ourselves from thinking too much trying to be Gods trying to plan and figure out, instead of just living as bodies. God's bodies, of course. But bodies. 

The last thing they gave me was the big yellow bowl he used to eat oatmeal in. It was his, I always got another one, a smaller, I'm not sure I have actually ever eaten from this one. It's stupid small things that matter.

This experience has changed me so much and is changing me so much. I get scared, not knowing what to be sure of anymore. I'm so tired of him being dead, It's like a part of me thinks that it's something I'll have to endure for a couple of months, but it's not, it will never be over, at least not until I'm dead too. I thought this would give me closure, but It just opened up more things and more feelings. It's Sunday today. I don't know what to do with myself.

There is no one else than myself that can sit with this feeling, but I'm so tired of trying to teach myself to be alone. I can never win. And now, there is a whole other dimension to that because if we haven't been so focused on teaching me to be alone and teaching him to be more outward, then maybe we could have ended up just as a normal couple.

But I have to stop thinking about what if. I have to trust God, and I have to trust Wave I really really have to. And I just have to live. When I went home yesterday on the train, I, of course, felt it would be peaceful just to end it now as well, now I delivered the stories and the pictures, maybe I could also leave now and be in peace with him. But I'm thinking that if we were playing a video game together, and he died, he would maybe go get some snacks in the kitchen and then come sit beside me and watch me finish the game, cheering on me, he would think I was stupid if I turned the game off, maybe even right before the finish line, maybe we are very close to winning the game if I just hold on a little bit longer, and I have to keep my eyes on the screen, trusting that he sits there right beside me, but I can't look, I have to trust. 





Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

I decided not to take the trip to go with his family to spread the ashes. 

It was a difficult decision. 

One part of me feels like I need to do more to move on, more to say goodbye, more to heal. This part also feels very guilty and like I somehow need to prove I'm a good human even though I couldn't or didn't prevent him from killing himself. 

Another part of me, the part I, at last, ended up listening to, needs to be still with it, not trying to improve or fix it anymore. 

I feel super lost without him. 

I always struggled with feeling like I didn't have an anchor, center, or steady ground beneath my feet. That's also why I'm so scared of going on more trips. Reality already feels so malleable and unsteady; just the thought of tripping in a world where he is dead scares me. But of course, I'm also curious. I'm curious to smoke DMT and see the world he saw because I never did; I just watched him once or twice. But I've listened to all of his stories about it. One time I smoked the rest of what was left in the pipe, but it was barely anything; I just got the feeling of the body becoming heavy and had a little vision of him becoming something else, a sort of creature. I have thought that maybe if I could get some DMT, I could go find him in that world. But I know that's probably a dysfunctional reason. I have two 2-CB pills he gave me because I wanted to do it with some guy, but I never did. Now I feel so stupid; why would I ever want to go on a trip with anyone else than him? Maybe I could find him if I went on a trip alone and really made an effort. But I won't do that. It will just fuck me more up than I already am. I want to move on, just a little bit. It's just so difficult. I think it's the most difficult I have ever gone through, and I have gone through a lot of shit; he would sign for that. 

Even though he was being so ungrounded, he was my ground in many ways. It's like two people with no connection to earth holding on to each other, gaining at least a little bit of centeredness or groundedness, but now he has let go of me, and I'm alone floating around in space. It's so unfair because I think he was comfortable floating like that. That's why he dared to die and became addicted to the DMT world. From what I've heard about it, it's the idea I have of floating freely around in space. Beautiful and safe to him, super super scary to me. 

The feeling of having no anchor makes me fear for my other relationships. Friends, family and the new relationships I will make when school starts. I'm afraid that if I'm not being carefull, the clinginess and desperation I feel will seep out through me for everyone to see and people will never love me then. It's such a wheel of pain. 

I know I shouldn't need another person so much, but I can't help it. I really can't. 

I have tried so much for so many years to become detached from relationships, detached from my body, desires...ego. 

I give up. 

I want to accept he is dead, I want to be free, and I want to love myself so much that I don't need anyone else. But I can't The result of all of this journey is that I can't. So I give up.

I can't say goodbye to him, and I can't love myself so... But is it possible to quit this game without killing yourself? Because that's another thing, I just can't. 



I forgot one thing I wanted to write about. The picture below reminded me. Someone said in a youtube video or something that a part of us never leaves heaven. I think it was Bashar. That filled me with peace. That somewhere, we have never been apart. Somewhere I'm holding him right now. I know it's probably not connected, but it feels connected to other thoughts I have had about whales, which are my favorite animals, because I like to think about how there is always a whale somewhere swimming around deep down in the darkness, just being really really big doing it's whale things in the calmness of the ocean. There is something to that feeling I get when I think about whales that feels the same when I think about how a part of us never left heaven. 



Edited by Sine

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

Actually, I made these drawings about it, him and the part of me that never left heaven, looking after my stupid human body that is stuck on earth. There is something about his eyes in the picture that came out really much like his eyes actually were, I think. Haha fuck, it makes me sad looking into them.



Edited by Sine

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

@Sine I just spoke with a woman who channels Jesus/Yeshua, and she lost her husband to suicide about 10 years ago. 

Maybe she could help you move forward and find peace with what happened.

If you're curious you can pm me I'll help you set it up 

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
Sign in to follow this  
Followers 0