I got up that night crying and praying. I was so sick of thinking about the same thing over and over. I couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t make it stop. I thought maybe I’m just weak, or crazy, or making a big deal out of
nothing. At 14 years old I didn’t know who to really ask if it was normal – thinking about the same thought from morning till night. When I thought of something going good…it would come. “It” was its own entity. Creeping in to steal any joy from the day. I prayed – even hoping that my Aunt Sue could hear my dilemma from heaven (at least that is where I hoped she was). I finally broke down and told my mom about it – well some of it. I didn’t let her know how long or how often – just that it was bothering me. She could only give me advice based on what I told her…”just think of something else and pray about it.” Oh God if it had only been that easy! The thought…for the past year…everyday…was DEATH. I couldn’t escape it. If I thought to myself…”Wow I did a really great job on _______” the next thought that intruded was “But you are going to die one day so it really doesn’t matter.” Yes all day, everyday. I was so tired of it.
It hit me one day while talking to my boyfriend about dying. AIDS had really just started scaring the pants off people (no pun intended) and it made me think, really think about dying. From that day – us standing in the sun after church – the thought got “stuck”. I kept waiting for it to fade…go away…something. But no – it just built a little nest in the back of my good thoughts and I hated it. This was far from counting to 8 when the refrigerator door shut.
Two years prior to that my Aunt Sue had died very suddenly. I remember her vibrant, red hair. Her wonderful smile and her petite hands. She had fire in her belly and she would take me and walk with me as often as she could. Sometimes confiding in me things she shouldn’t but I’m now glad she did. I had no idea up to that point she had suffered from severe depression her entire life, threatening here and there to take her own life with aspirin. When we got the news…then it was very clear that she had struggled alone with much of it. She shot herself…in her home after lighting fire to the kitchen. I was and am still devastated. I will elaborate on this much more in depth later…but I feel this was a trigger for me to an already fragile mind because of self esteem, past family history, and current living conditions with my alcoholic father. So…I had hoped she could give me wisdom…from wherever she was – she always did.
So…I dealt with it, I cried over it, and finally it really just faded away over the next few months. Its like a storm had come and passed. I didn’t speak of it anymore…but what a warning it was for events to come. I was just happy it stopped so I didn’t think too much on it after that. No one knew that they should think about it for me…
The engine had been primed and readied…