I haven’t posted for awhile on this blog site due to lost of interest, busy schedule and emotionally unstable.
For the past year till recent, I have been having restless nights and memory flashbacks of the operation that took place when I was 4 years old, the dark room that I got trapped in, the ICU room where I witness my Mommy Lits fight for her life, the hospital halls that I stayed and cried at and the instances wherein I wanted to end my life when I lost the only person I loved, trusted and treasured. The person who raised and loved me as her own.
I admit that after her passing away, I felt hopeless and all I wanted was just to follow her and die. There were times that I attempted to end my life.
Thoughts of not wanting to go on with my life, not wanting to acquaint with anyone and having no plans for my future.
After her burial, I still couldn’t accept her death. I couldn’t accept my real mother. I mean how can you accept someone you don’t even know? How could a child accept the fact that the one who raised her was actually her grandmother.
I wanted to stay away from all of it, from all of them.
I became the kind of person who prefer isolation than human attachments. Someone who doesn’t easily trust and socialize with people. A girl who preferred to be alone than go along with a group.
As time went by; I became someone who socializes occassionally and whenever I am expected to interact with other people. I learned how to build relationships that I would remove from my life whenever they came to close or become someone I would be devastated to lose.
I became too scared to be attached, to lose someone that is dear to my heart. I am frightened to feel that ache that the death of my Mommy Lits once more.
Right now, the only thing logical for me to do is to never be attached so I will never feel pain.