VelesArt
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Where to begin...
🕑 Added 2025-03-03 12:09:35 +0000 UTCI wanted to keep this as short as possible, but I think it will still turn out long. This is important to me, and I hope you’ll understand.
When I was 17, my grandfather—my mom’s father—passed away. At that time, my mom was undergoing cancer treatment, going through chemotherapy, and it seemed like the treatment was helping. But after her father’s death, her condition worsened. A couple of months later, just after burying my beloved grandfather, my mom also died—in my arms. Until the very end, we didn’t believe it would happen; we hoped for a miracle, for emergency help... We didn’t even get to say goodbye, even though she really wanted to.
If it had just been my grandfather’s death—even though he taught me so much and was a role model for me—I might have been able to cope at that time. But my mom’s death... She was the only person I trusted as much as myself. Her passing left a void in me, as if a part of my soul had been torn away.
Back then, I fell into a deep pit. At first, it was just dark thoughts about death. Then came panic attacks, especially before bed. My condition worsened: I couldn’t read properly—the letters would jump around in front of my eyes—and I needed to write my thesis for technical school. Later, intrusive thoughts about jumping off the balcony started when I went out for air. The breaking point came when I was simply cooking dumplings and suddenly started crying. For no reason. I felt unbearably sad and awful. I sat on the floor, hugged my knees to my chest, and sobbed.
That’s when I realized I needed to do something. I made an appointment with a psychiatrist, started treatment, and took a leave of absence from technical school. Over time, I learned to live with it, but...
Now it’s happening again. Recently, my paternal grandmother passed away. We weren’t close, only seeing each other occasionally in childhood since my parents were divorced. My dad lived nearby, and we saw each other from time to time. Six months ago, he died in his mother’s apartment. My sister noticed he hadn’t called in a week and tried to reach him herself. Unfortunately, he was already dead. The cause of death couldn’t be determined—his body was in terrible condition. I had to be involved in it: retrieving his documents, watching as they took him away... The smell permeated everything, even my clothes, and the documents reeked of death for weeks afterward.
My sister and I took care of everything: cleaning the apartment, selling his belongings, paying off debts. Even now, we have to go to court. I tried to stay strong, but then my maternal grandmother was diagnosed with cancer. At first, I managed, but the more time I spent with her, the more it reminded me of my mom. All of this piled on top of other problems: difficulties in my relationship with my girlfriend, the state of the world... It felt like everything was crashing down on me at once.
I’m burned out. I’m 25 years old. The only relatives I have left are my younger sister and my grandmother, who is now battling cancer. So much energy goes into just staying alive, fighting off bad thoughts and anxiety.
I’m sorry I didn’t warn you earlier. I had panic attacks every time I thought about how I’d let you down. I feel deeply ashamed.
This post isn’t an excuse. I know I’ve let you down, and I’m truly sorry. I just want you to know what’s going on. I’m trying to get back to a normal life, to draw again and bring you joy, no matter what. I hope I can fulfill all my obligations soon.
Thank you for reading this.
Veles
