i want to hold you high and steal your pain away
I went to the funeral today.
I didn't break down so much because I had gabapentin to take, which calmed me down, since it works on GABA receptors, like a benzodiazepine (hence the name).
During the funeral at one point people were sharing memories of Cameron; and at another point Mr. Binns, the choir teacher from Middle/High School, came up and said how Cameron was such a great alto singer.
And it reminded me of my favourite memory of her.
One time, in 9th grade, during lunch, we were all sitting outside. And this guy seriously had... his guitar, and an amp. He started playing "Broken" by Amy Lee and Seether.
Cameron was singing.
To this day, it is still one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard. I had never heard the original before, and I downloaded it when I got home that day. I was disappointed because it did not have the same beauty. I always wanted a recording of her singing that song.
Cameron was an amazing person. She put a smile on every one's face, always filled with laughter. She made you feel good. The thing I will remember about her the most is that she always included me. Usually, when I am with someone, and we get into a group, I become the odd one out and ignored. But that never happened with Cameron- she'd talk to me, get others to talk to me, ask me questions... always keeping me socializing and never ignored.
I don't know if I can say I loved Cameron, maybe I did (it's just hard for me to love any one), but I... well, something close to love. I liked her a lot. My only regret is that I wish I had spent more time with her.
So these things made me happy. They made me feel good. Then after the funeral I dropped Chris off (I had given him a ride there, too) and I went to my dad's work. He was advising students so I had a conversation with Dottie (Dodie?) and Dr. Clubb. Nicest, happiest conversation I had had since Cameron died. I then made an appointment with my doctor and went there.
Turns out, the nurse practitioner was there. I told her what had happened, and I mentioned I was in pain. I had asked her for a shot of Toradol, telling her that I have/had drug problems and was an addict. But she insisted on giving me some Vicoprofen, she just said: "Be careful with this, okay?" She also refilled my Klonopin (which I gave to my dad) and my Zofran (anti-nausea med).
I got home after filling my medications, and realised something. I think I believe in God now. I'm not going to become super religious or anything, just that... I believe. The preacher at the funeral was talking about how we're all mortal and we need God in our hearts, and how when it's his time to take us, then it's our time. I feel like Cameron is in Heaven now, happy and making every one else happy too.
When he was preaching, I remembered the time I overdosed on acetaminophen, and how I prayed every hour (even if I was agnostic) for God to let me live. I remember the reason I stopped believing in God as a child was because I would pray to him for my mother to stop abusing me, and he never came through. But that night, he was there. I know that now.
I realised: God really does want me to live. He wants me around for something important. And that's why I need to live, to fulfill whatever it is I'm going to do. And then after I've fulfilled it, when it's my time to go, then he will take me, and I'll be happy in Heaven. But I need to stay here.
I need to stay. I feel like Cameron's death was a sign, to all of us struggling. A sign that says we need to take stock of our lives. That says we need to change.
I love you all so much, thanks for being there for me, every one. I'm sorry I haven't been commenting much, but I've just been avoiding most online locations for obvious reasons. I'm back now, and I'm here. I'll be here until it's my time.
Thank you.
I didn't break down so much because I had gabapentin to take, which calmed me down, since it works on GABA receptors, like a benzodiazepine (hence the name).
During the funeral at one point people were sharing memories of Cameron; and at another point Mr. Binns, the choir teacher from Middle/High School, came up and said how Cameron was such a great alto singer.
And it reminded me of my favourite memory of her.
One time, in 9th grade, during lunch, we were all sitting outside. And this guy seriously had... his guitar, and an amp. He started playing "Broken" by Amy Lee and Seether.
Cameron was singing.
To this day, it is still one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard. I had never heard the original before, and I downloaded it when I got home that day. I was disappointed because it did not have the same beauty. I always wanted a recording of her singing that song.
Cameron was an amazing person. She put a smile on every one's face, always filled with laughter. She made you feel good. The thing I will remember about her the most is that she always included me. Usually, when I am with someone, and we get into a group, I become the odd one out and ignored. But that never happened with Cameron- she'd talk to me, get others to talk to me, ask me questions... always keeping me socializing and never ignored.
I don't know if I can say I loved Cameron, maybe I did (it's just hard for me to love any one), but I... well, something close to love. I liked her a lot. My only regret is that I wish I had spent more time with her.
So these things made me happy. They made me feel good. Then after the funeral I dropped Chris off (I had given him a ride there, too) and I went to my dad's work. He was advising students so I had a conversation with Dottie (Dodie?) and Dr. Clubb. Nicest, happiest conversation I had had since Cameron died. I then made an appointment with my doctor and went there.
Turns out, the nurse practitioner was there. I told her what had happened, and I mentioned I was in pain. I had asked her for a shot of Toradol, telling her that I have/had drug problems and was an addict. But she insisted on giving me some Vicoprofen, she just said: "Be careful with this, okay?" She also refilled my Klonopin (which I gave to my dad) and my Zofran (anti-nausea med).
I got home after filling my medications, and realised something. I think I believe in God now. I'm not going to become super religious or anything, just that... I believe. The preacher at the funeral was talking about how we're all mortal and we need God in our hearts, and how when it's his time to take us, then it's our time. I feel like Cameron is in Heaven now, happy and making every one else happy too.
When he was preaching, I remembered the time I overdosed on acetaminophen, and how I prayed every hour (even if I was agnostic) for God to let me live. I remember the reason I stopped believing in God as a child was because I would pray to him for my mother to stop abusing me, and he never came through. But that night, he was there. I know that now.
I realised: God really does want me to live. He wants me around for something important. And that's why I need to live, to fulfill whatever it is I'm going to do. And then after I've fulfilled it, when it's my time to go, then he will take me, and I'll be happy in Heaven. But I need to stay here.
I need to stay. I feel like Cameron's death was a sign, to all of us struggling. A sign that says we need to take stock of our lives. That says we need to change.
I love you all so much, thanks for being there for me, every one. I'm sorry I haven't been commenting much, but I've just been avoiding most online locations for obvious reasons. I'm back now, and I'm here. I'll be here until it's my time.
Thank you.