Katharine Johnson
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About Me:
I am a twenty six year old female living in Central Texas with my two older parents (my mother is 62 and my father is 66), my older brother (whom I believe has an undiagnosed Schizoid personality disorder), and two male family friends. I am a psych major at a local college, but I have not been able to attend or take online classes for a while; I suffer from chronic major depression and Panic Disorder with agoraphobia and Dermatilomania. I enjoy writing and almost any medium of art (I mostly use colored pencils, but I also do charcoal, oil pastels, watercolor, sculpting, ect). I used to have a promising future in the field of Psychology before my own mental issues became almost completely debilitating.
About my Loss:
I had been dating my boyfriend, Sean, for a little over a year. He was a successful Electronic Dance Music DJ both locally in Texas and internationally with an online radio station that he spun on every Thursday. He was an amazingly sweet and patient person. He helped me to overcome some of I fear of large crowds and social situations. I was treated very well by all of his friends and adoptive family.
Sean came from a very traumatic background: he witnessed his younger brother (at 3 months old) be killed by his stepfather (Sean would have been killed as well had he not been hiding in a closet). He had to silently watch the whole thing. Nobody got him help. Add on top of this the fact that he was born with a very common heart defect that his mother (for some reason unknown to anyone but her) refused to get him surgery for. The entire thing (even travel) was being paid for by the state. She was the only one legally allowed to take him as his father's identity was still in question. This defect was a septal one, meaning that he had a hole in his heart and so it didn't function properly. Since it wasn't taken care of when he was little, as he progressed through life and became active in his High School's ROTC program, the hole enlarged.
Sean was no saint once he lost his scholarship for what I believe was the Air Force (they heard his murmur and quickly sent him packing), he spiraled into a deep depression and ended up experimenting with drug and alcohol (both of which potentially caused even more damage to his already poorly functioning heart). I do not believe he would have continued with this behavior if he had not been lied to about his heart condition (he was either told that it healed on its own or he had had the surgery, neither of which was true).
On the morning of September 7 of last year (a little under a week until my twenty sixth birthday), I woke to find that I was alone in our bed. I went and checked the bathroom and saw that the light and air vent were both on. I assumed he was either doing his business or soaking his almost constantly sore muscles. I went back to sleep. I woke again about an hour later and both the light and vent were STILL on. I called his name through the door- no response. I knelt down to look under the door- no feet. I yelled for him this time. This roused one of the family friends living in our house at the time. He managed to jimmy the door open. When I walked in, Sean's face was fully submerged in the water. I screamed his name. I lifted him from the water- his face and lips were this odd shade of purple, his skin was extremely wrinkled as if he'd sat there for a time. The family friend immediate ran to phone 911. No one dared tell me he was already gone. My pained cries for him to "wake up!" woke my mother. Soon she was standing next to me, silent as I tried to hold his body up out of the water screaming, "He's too heavy, I can't hold him up!"
Paramedics and police soon arrived. I was in such utter shock that I couldn't even begin to tell you what I said to them. All I can recall vividly from that day- aside from what happened- was a police officer coming outside to tell me that he was so sorry for my loss. I let out the most gut-wrenching cry the moment the words came out of his mouth. I think everyone in the neighborhood could hear my screams of "NO!" as my mind refused to accept this as truth. Sean was only twenty three. I was told later by the Dallas County Medical Examiner that he had air duster in his system. I had gotten him to quit everything- even smoking...but apparently he wanted one last high. His heart could not take it. The hole had grown far too large. My only consolation came from a former Fire Medic friend who informed me that he probably experienced no pain since the duster has a numbing effect on the body. I asked the M.E. if this was the direct cause of death, she said it wasn't, but that it was a contributing factor.
Only 23.....

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