HEAL YOU | JENLISA

THIRTY-NINE

JENNIE

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I’D LIKE TO SAY THAT AFTER THE FUNERAL, I MOURN FOR A couple of weeks, and then I pick up my old life where I left off. I’d like to say that now that I’ve learned to stand up for myself and stop people pleasing, it’s easy to overcome the creative block associated with my music. I’d also like to say that Priscilla and I are reconciled.

But if I said those things, I’d be lying.

Once the funeral is over, an intangible thread breaks in my mind, and I mentally collapse. I’ve learned since then that this is called autistic burnout. I can’t remember the weeks immediately following the funeral at all. It’s like I never lived them. The earliest post-funeral days that I can recall are from months later, and they involve me staring blankly into space or watching the same documentaries over and over while basically fusing my body to my couch. I don’t do anything productive. I can’t reason my way through any semi-complicated tasks, like getting the mail or paying bills or even checking my bank account balance online. I only manage not to get kicked out of my apartment through the miracle of autopay. Emotionally, I’m highly unstable. I switch between intense melancholy, rage (at Priscilla), and then exhaustion from the aforementioned melancholy and rage. I cry … a lot.

Roseanne and Jisoo message me, but I rarely answer. I don’t have the energy. It matters to me that they care about me. I appreciate them. But I have to go through this alone and find my way back to them later.

Similarly, Jennifer checks up on me, but I don’t have energy to answer her either. Therapy can’t help me when I’m like this.