Have ya ever read the “In Death” series by J.D. Robb? Not sure why but this blog title made me think of them, great series by the way!! Oh, or it could have been the other way around maybe…Could be the series gave me the idea of the blog name…oh well who the fuck knows and really who the fuck cares because this book series honestly has nothing to do with my blog post!!
But my blog post does have to do with my obsession with death…Not my own death, fuck to be honest I am so fucking surprised I am still alive after my history that I think I am going to live forever!! I am at least going to live until I am 90 and there is a very good reason for that…Let me tell you!!! My younger sister has the name of every dead family member tattooed on her body, I have told her that I expect my name to be tattooed there and also that I have no fucking intention of dying until I am 90 JUST so she can be an 80 year old shriveled up wrinkled woman getting a tattoo of my name otherwise I will come back and haunt her…and let me tell you this, I bet you a dollar just to piss me off she will get my birth name instead of my chosen name tattooed on her arse since I am insisting she get a tattoo when she is 80 freaking years old….This is all in good humor of course and we love each other dearly!! We have to, because there is hardly any of us left!!
So this story is about where I think my death obsession comes in…My first experience with death was when I was around 8 or so years old. My Nanna came over to Australia from England to live with us. She took care of us kids when my Mum and Dad worked and my memories of her was that she was sometimes scary but I mostly loved her. I know she was not allowed to smoke cigarettes anymore and this one day she bent over and a packet of smokes fell out of her apron. She told me Shhhhhh gave me 50 cents and told me not to tell my Mam…50 cents was a freaking lot of money in those days and I did not breathe a word to anyone. A very short time later my Nanna died, I heard my Mum crying one day and talking to my Dad about my Nanna still smoking cigarettes…..My eight year old brain convinced myself that my Nanna dying was all my fault because I did not tell my Mam about the cigarettes…I am not sure how long I lived with that for but it was an awful long time and was also around the time there was a switch in my life from being groomed to being molested.
My next experience was not really a death experience, I was just convinced it was.
See I watched my best friend get hit by a car, it was horrific and frightening. She did not die but I convinced myself she had. Her face was pretty messed up and I was not allowed to visit her in hospital because of that I convinced myself she had died…I did not see her again until years later.
The event probably contributed very much to a sort of PTSD that I have which I refer to as “trauma phobia”
It still affects me deeply today, anytime there is any type of accident or medical emergency my brain goes into survival mode which really means get the fuck away from that situation as quickly as possible…Nobody can rely on me in an emergency…The only thing they can be guaranteed of is they will probably die alone because I will be as far away from that mess as humanly possible…It is not blood I am afraid of, it is trauma and I have two reactions to it. Flee or faint!! It is true, if I cannot flee I will faint!!
My next death experience was my 2nd child, he was not breathing when he was born, he was blue, flaccid, no oxygen, no muscle tone. He was given apgars of 1 and 3 miraculously he survived, though I convinced myself that when the doctor said “you can take your son home, I can do nothing more for him” that meant I could take him home to die. I laid awake every night watching his little chest go up and down waiting for his last breath…. Which then contributed to horrific and severe post natal depression and my next death experience, my own. I planned it down to the last T, got a baby sitter for my kids, wrote a long letter then drove to a secluded area to take care of business. Fortunately I was found by a kid on a bike and taken to hospital.!!
What followed was a string of deaths….My Sister committed suicide, my brother died suddenly at aged 39, my other sister unexpectedly at aged 49 and then my father shortly after that followed by my dog and finally 2 weeks after sending my husband back to his family he went and died on me.
Some of these experiences including illness with my Mum involved last minute torturous flights from the USA to Australia and I guess this is where I am going with my blog!!
I know fuck!! It took me an awful long time to get here but I really want y’all to understand why “death” is so obsessive for me!! And why this obsession created two absolutely terrifying horrific hours for me today!!
So y’all know Mon Capitaine and I talk every day at least twice a day, this communication is important to us both. I called him after my job interview, we talked for a few minutes but he was just going into Walmart and his battery was low so he said he was leaving his phone in his truck and going to Walmart and he would let me know when he got back in his truck….I know his Walmart tolerance levels and expected him to be around 15 minutes!!
2 hours!!! Over two fucking hours!! No response to phone calls, messages, nothing, nada!!
I have a very vivid imagination and most times I love how imaginary I can be. My school reports were always full of how wonderfully active my imagination was but let me tell you it is not always an asset!!
In situations like this a mind can create a fucking million scenarios on ways to die!! My brain had explored every possible scenario from Walmart mass shootings to the most likely scenario being dead in a ditch on the side of the road after sending me a text saying “call me”
I was imagining having to stand at his funeral and see the sad faces of his kids and their accusatory looks in my direction knowing their father died because he was texting me while driving!!
I was thinking well this is some fucked up shit!! I came home to Australia because after several emergency trips home for dead or dying family members I knew I could not do it anymore and here I was probably going to have to make an emergency trip in the opposite direction.
I called the local hospital and they were NO fucking help at all, in fact I am pretty freaking sure I was speaking to a janitor who just happened to pick up the phone as he was walking past so I called his hotel. I explained that I was in Australia and we were supposed to have a call but I could not get in touch with him so just needed to make sure he got home okay….Well she confirmed that his truck was in fact in the hotel parking lot and that he was in his room, she said she answered my call on the portable phone but if I called back she could transfer me to his room. I said no, it is okay I just needed to make sure he was fine and got home okay.
Well that was that….My 2 hours of imaginary death experiences and gut wrenching worry instantly turned to anger…I mean what the fuck!!!
What I considered then was the only rationale explanation was that he met Brandi, MaM, Teach or Jasmine along the way unexpectedly ended up in Piccadilly but I was pissed he could not text me one word “Piccadilly”
As it turned out he had in fact kept his word to me and texted me the moment he got back in his truck from Walmart…it just so happened that moment took over 2 hours because he buzzed going through the sensors and then had to spend the next almost 2 hours under investigation for imaginary shoplifting while they viewed the cameras.
What I realized after all this is just how incredibly fucked up this long distance relationship can be at times. It has taken me almost 3 hours to de-stress from this situation and I am still shaky.
I also did not realize until today just how consuming my obsession with death can be at times…just another thing I need to work on in the batshit crazy brain of the Jadalicious model 66/6!!