Warning- this post may trigger… so, read at your own expense.
My alarm went off at 6:00am and I tapped the snooze button twice. I should’ve just not woken up today, to be honest. I have this really bad habit of opening social media before I get out of bed; it wakes me up in a sense. As I proceeded to open up Facebook, I see Chester’s face everywhere. As I try to put my eyes into focus as to what they are talking about, I read the words: toxicology report. I immediately sank. I thought this was over. I read the article written by TMZ and I read the words ecstasy and I become all sorts of confused. My emotions are running amuck and I don’t believe it.
Now, I’m not a medical professional, but I have worked in the medical field for 9 years so I consider myself a better summarizer of the toxicology report than that of TMZ. If they were honest and had a clue, he wasn’t on ecstasy. He hardly had alcohol in his system or any drug. *Queue every possible thought and scenario. What I had told myself to cope was a lie*
Yes- I read it. I felt awful doing it, but I had to know. I needed it to help me.
lol- it didn’t.
My therapist told me today that I’m an empath. In reality, I assumed I was crazy, but no, it’s a thing. This is how I can put myself in anyone’s shoes that I feel connected to and feel what they feel. As I read over the document, I just kept thinking how so much information had been released to the public that just wasn’t necessary. I kept thinking of his family. Yeah, I felt terrible, but I kept reading. I didn’t read it for pleasure; even though I do have a morbid mind. Trust me, there was no pleasure in reading this document.
Everything I had thought and every situation I had put myself in on his final day, seemed completely wrong now. You see, my therapist and I talk about it every session about how thoughts of suicide can be a fleeting moment. I had told myself that was what Chester experienced. I felt it. But now, now I feel like I now know the truth of how he felt and it hit me like a bullet in the chest. Next thing I know, I’m there. I am him in this moment. I have his thoughts because I’ve been there before. When you just can’t take it anymore. I was the doctor and I was the paramedic. I was Talinda and I was his housekeeper. Being an empath isn’t a good thing, especially in this situation. Maybe for others depending on your profession, but when something like this happens, it brings about a pain that is indescribable.
I kept staring at the report and read the last few pages over and over and over again. Why? because I had put myself there. I literally felt panic rising up in my chest and I could not breathe. I’m at my desk at work like holy crap, I’m about to have a panic attack.
I told myself for months that I couldn’t feel. I was numb. Yes, I am numb to an extent, but when my brain wants to feel, it doesn’t just feel; it immerses.
Now obviously, we don’t know what his final thoughts were and exactly what happened. And we don’t want to know. It’s not our business-to an extent. It’s not our job to be disrespectful to his family, band, and friends. But, we are his fans. He left us too. Some of us may have a deeper connection with him than others, me being one of them. It’s a feeling I can’t explain and I don’t want to explain it anymore. If I feel it, it was meant for ME to feel for a purpose.
Who knows why God made me an empath. I don’t think Chester would want me to put myself in these situations, but I can’t help it. Mental illness sucks and he knew that so well.
In order to start the healing process, because my therapist says I am still grieving. It’s been over 4 months and I am still grieving. I didn’t even personally know the man, but even Chester said that doesn’t matter.
So to try and heal, she told me to listen to One More Light. I haven’t listened to that song since I got my affirmation a month ago. I can’t listen to it. She said to listen to it from his perspective, not mine. When we listen to it from our perspective, we put Chester in the song and it makes us hurt and miss him. However, if we turn it around and put ourselves in the song and Chester is singing to us. He cares about us and doesn’t want us to hurt. Ugh, my therapist is so clever. So, I listened to it from Chester’s perspective, BECAUSE I’M SO GOOD AT IT and sure enough, she was right. It wasn’t unbearable or heartbreaking to listen to. It gave me a completely different opinion of the song and how it’s sung. However, I know me and I know my mind. If I listen to it again, it’ll be from my perspective thinking about Chester. You have to make yourself aware of what you are doing and being borderline, that’s the hardest part.
So, who does care if one more light goes out? Chester does. He really really does.