Constant fear leads to situations where I feel as though someone has taken all my energy and will to live. Every weekend is a fear. I found myself preparing for possible dramatic events. I charge the phone, make sure it’s not muted, remove glass objects from work surfaces, and secure everything that could be damaged. Sometimes, however, nothing happens. Sometimes my son lets me into his world. Then he plays his music to me, and there are many hints in it.
Documents and things that will be needed during the intervention of the police or ambulance, I have on hand. Medicines that can harm or facilitate poisoning are hidden in the strangest possible places. Sharp objects are ready to be removed in one motion…
I never know what the days and nights will bring when you’re gone. I don’t know when he will be back because he hasn’t adhered to the rules in place for a long time. Even in the quieter times, I can’t calm my fears to sleep. I prepare for the worst with paranoia, and I am afraid to sleep lest evil should surprise me in the middle of the night. Until then, I have everything ready in case I have to get up quickly and go get it.
Idols, words and clues
When Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays pass and nothing happens during those days, I come to my senses on Monday morning. I silence my senses, calm my thoughts, and allow myself a moment of inattention. Then it is also different. You often come down and look for connection, I always look forward to this moment, because these are the only moments where you open up more.
– Did you hear the last piece of Mata? – Asked.
– No, but I like to hear it – I like that he invites me into his world, even if I do not quite understand it. When I listen to the text, I understand what the phenomenon of this artist is about. He simply talks in their language about things that are important to them. I do not agree with everything, but I must confess that he does it well, and that he can clothe his rebelliousness and unacceptability of the always unwise adult world with words that snatch those children who listen to him. Each of us had his own idol, and each of us secretly dreamed that he, like him, would one day perform on stage and make a great world career. They have their voice, they are their voice. That’s why I want to listen.
– Around! This is a response to the recent party-related events you told me about, right? Strong, though, you know, I disagree with him on the legalization of marijuana and I’m pissed off with this message on every track–I can’t help myself, though the track is really impressive.
– I know, I know, but let’s not talk about it now, do you want to hear our music? We recorded with R. On Saturday, it turned out quickly, but it turned out nice – he announces, looking for recording on the phone. When I hear the first bars, I smile. You have to be sensitive to the choice of background. This way, I can clearly hear the orchestra mixed with percussion, gently preparing it for the lyrics. These, however, are heavy, they speak of dreams, but in a very bitter way. They describe an unpleasant reality and a great need to exist.
– I like it, it says a lot about you. Send it to me, please, I want to hear the text better. I’m glad you did it with R., you became friends, right? – I speak.
“Yes, even his mother loved me,” he says with a smile. I’m smiling too, though the alarm has already gone off in my head… Strange, isn’t it? I should be quiet, but the memories of his last friendship are still fresh in me. He trusts unconditionally, then he is able to sacrifice everything for a friend. He gives his time, intervenes, opens up, and slowly allows himself to be himself. Then there’s always something you’re not ready for. Friendship ends, one of them turns his back, falls into a black abyss and flows. I remember well when we stood in the hospital corridor and he asked to speak to us before we walked into his office. It was after he lost his former best friend after someone treated him badly.
– Do you know how it feels to be constantly afraid of rejection? I’ve always felt it Nobody accepts me as I am, or pretends to be, hence the same. Then he said, I’m lonely again. My heart broke.
I work through my trauma with a psychiatrist. Nothing prepared me for the events I caused, so it’s a difficult process. I never know how the weekend will turn out, another relationship with a girlfriend or boyfriend. Will he smoke until he “cuts off”, will he take his life again or go berserk, destroying the house. He does the same work in his sessions and in his world. Maybe not so bad, maybe it’s us adults who need to learn to listen better in order to understand. That’s why today we’re going to listen to their music together, and there’s a lot of advice out there, we just want to open up, and then it’s easy to talk about it and our concerns.
My name is Patrycja and I am a member of the internet editorial desk at Dzień Dobry TVN. My son is addicted to marijuana and has had several suicide attempts. The “Cards from the Diary” series was created for you and for me. Here you will read the story of my son and mine. The story of a woman and the mother of an extraordinary teenager. I want our common path to a home full of love and peace. I am confident that we will find this path together, thanks to the experiences, conversations and meetings with specialists, doctors and therapists, which I will describe every day on the pages of these diaries, with warm thought for you.
If you are in a similar situation and want to talk about it, tell us your story – write to me in the editorial office: email@example.com
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