Tuesday, May 3, 2016

sister

An open letter I will never send.

Dear scoob,

I don't know if you ever wondered about why I stopped calling you. I don't know if you'd ever bring it up, even if you did wonder. I stopped calling because I was afraid. I was afraid of being told I was wrong for calling child protection service on cristian and our sisters. I was afraid of being told that I was wrong for cutting off mom and our california brother. I was afraid that I would be forbidden to or shunned for talking about our family history of trauma, dysfunction, and abuse.

I was afraid of being teased for how I dress. I was afraid of being teased and taunted for sharing griefs and frustrations. I was afraid of so many things. And I felt like our conversations had become so empty - just thoughts about the latest HBO series or the hottest young adult fiction series.

I was scared your anorexia was winning. I was scared you hated yourself. I was scared you had your first child to solve other problems in your life. I was scared that you didn't love me anymore - that you didn't know how to.

I still worry. I'm less scared, less concerned about what you think of me, about how you feel toward me. I mean, I lost you. And I made it anyway. It's almost like you died - how could finally talking about us and our relationship make things worse?

Sunday, March 13, 2016

charlotte follow-up

I'm sorry it has taken me so long to respond. I've actually been meaning to contact you since the Christmas angel you sent arrived in the mail. Thank you so much - I absolutely love it. It was almost like...having a chance to get a gift from a mother and father that a younger me would've loved. Especially on a Christmas morning, maybe after singing in choir or playing handbells. After my First Communion. Or Confirmation, if I'd chosen to stay with the Catholic faith. I may often turn my nose up at organized religion, but I also had a pretty rough go of it - there's a lot of history and baggage between me and Catholicism. But I really, really love the angel. It feels like...a balm for old wounds.

It is hard to admit it, but it's really wounds that kept me from getting back to you sooner. This winter season was just...painful. It was so hard to lose my family in 2012. I loved my mother, and my brothers and sisters. I still do, even if I know that choosing to keep them out of my life is the healthier, safer choice. It hurts every time I think of them. It hurts worse during holidays. That's what made it such a blessing to be so taken in by all of the family, all of your relatives, even before your son and I were married. I missed and pined for my family so much, so it was the gift of a lifetime to have a new family take me in. A functional, healthy, caring family. And grandparents! I'd never had a grandmother before, and all of a sudden I had two! You and Joe have such wonderful relatives. It was so nice to get to be a part of it, even for just a little while. It was something I never expected to have. 

I've been grieving pretty hard. And now I have a new family to grieve over. Ah. It's hard. It's hard to have lost two families. It's hard to be so alone. I do have a great job, and I love the rabbits. I have a strong network of caring friends. I have my one remaining sister, and her two girls. And even though I really seemed to have it together when I saw you last, at breakfast? I've been so lost. I was so depressed. And the spirit of suicide filled every quiet moment. After Thanksgiving weekend, I wasn't sure I'd be alive by Christmas, and I was dreading having to cancel with my sister. It got that bad.

After Christmas - and I did have such a lovely visit with my sister and nieces - I got put on an additional medication and the suicidal thinking stopped. I've been slowly coming back ever since. But I won't lie to you - even with all that? All the bad that's happened since I divorced your son? It was worth it. I've got my life back. I let Jason destroy so much of what made me, so much of who I am...I almost didn't have enough left to go on. But it seems to be my lot in life to get into ugly, traumatic situations, and have to fight for my life to get out and move on alone. My choice to get divorced was not made lightly. I want you to know that. I tried very hard to stay married, and to accommodate everything Jason wanted. I was in therapy, I was fiscally supporting us, I took care of the rabbits, all of the domestic chores... It just was never enough. I was never enough. I was bad. Less than. Raised worse. Not prepared. And I just couldn't live that way anymore. Not after everything I went though as a little girl. And as a young woman. Not after I fought so hard to do what was right and lost my birth family for it. I was a fool to let Jason talk me into getting married. I should've walked away after the first time I saw how he talked to you and Joe in the privacy of your home. I should've walked away the first time he put his hands on me in anger when he was drunk. I should've walked away when raising his voice at me became the norm. 

I am so, so sorry that I had to lose you and Joe. I miss you both. I hope you're both well, and that grandma is well, or at least as peace. Please take care. Thank you so much for the birthday wishes, and the Christmas gift, and for being a family to me. 

Best wishes, and have a happy Easter.

Thursday, March 10, 2016

still so fresh

The pain is always there.
But some times, I am distracted. I'm happy, for a time. Then it all comes crashing back.

Painful revelation of the night? Movies, one of the most powerful musics to my soul? When the ending credits roll, I see phantoms of my siblings out of the corners of my eyes. I see the shine of their eyes, their teeth when they smile. I feel the impulse to turn so we can connect, share the silver screen feelings.

Then I remember.

Jim and Scoob picked the lies. Picked inheritance. And I didn't. And so we can't be together. The pain of their loss is still so fresh. It's like...it almost feels like that's all there ever was. That my life came from it, from the pain of not-love.

Taking time to grieve just...it goes on and on. I am afraid that it will never be over. I will just grieve and grieve and grieve. It's true, after a fashion. I know it is. The past can't be undone, can't be changed. What happened, any hurt that happened, will always have happened to me.

People say that loss and pain don't end, that you carry them all your days, that time will at least make them older, less bright. It still blows my mind when I think of my recent companion - the spirit of suicide. How on earth did I come back? Why, even when the darkness was almost total, why did I want to come back? Why should I want to choose pain everlasting? Even if there will be moments of love and joy? I don't know. I don't know why I chose. Why I'm here. Why I planted my feet on this side of life.

I feel the compulsion to crawl into bed and never emerge. To sip whiskey until nothing matters. It seems insane that I get up, take meds, go to work, come home, feed the rabbits, take meds, go to sleep, and do it all over again. Going to group, and to therapy, once a week each, approximately.

And the agony just goes on and on.

Tuesday, March 1, 2016

the pain

It hurts so much. I hurt. In my throat, in my mind, in my chest. I just hurt so much. And I hate it. I don't want to be the one stuck grieving. The bad things happened. They're over and done with. My life really isn't bad anymore. I have a lot going for me. So why does it hurt SO much, every day?

How long can you grieve for the bad things people have done to you?

Thursday, February 25, 2016

Blasts from the past

I cried before I fell asleep. Last night, or the night before. I was thinking about Brent. He hadn't written back yet. I was crying because I had to admit, in my exhaustion, that it would hurt if he didn't want to meet up. You know, if he didn't give an actual fuck and just wanted to mail that damn book back to me. Course - why would be bother if he didn't want to reconnect? Spose I was silly to worry, to wonder, to consider grieving. It would've hurt a lot, to know he didn't give a fuck. It would've made Josh...I dunno. It would've made the fact that he didn't give a fuck...legitimate. I dunno.
I'm just...really glad Brent is willing to try and give a fuck.
Thank you, the Universe.

Also? re-connected with Clare. It was...soothing. And fun :)

And I got a job offer. From Brendan. I turned him down, but it...felt good, to have him reach out. To hear a word of praise. I hope he hired Biiwaabik - she deserves the chance, and if he'd learn to be more direct, he could help her grow.

Friday, February 12, 2016

oh charlotte

I remember a scene in the old animated Charlotte's Web when Charlotte realizes she is dying and she has to tell Wilbur. She said, "I think I'm languishing, to tell you the truth." I got an email from Jason's mother today. She apologized for missing my birthday in January. And I haven't even had it in me to write her and Joe a thank you card for the angel they sent me for Christmas. I was really honored to receive it. And now... Gods, I want to have an honest conversation with Kathy and Joe, but I don't know who it would serve to have it. Me, I suppose. Just to...say it, to have it out there. Even if they were to hear it and deny it. Even if they pulled away, never spoke to me again, at least the truth would be out there. I've lost people for telling the truth before. It sucks. It hurts so much...but it's always been worth it, in the end.

I was languishing when I was married to Jason. Every bit of me was dying, so he could have the version of me that he wanted, someone who wasn't really anyone at all. He hurt me. He controlled me and was manipulative. He put his hands on me, he raised his voice at me. He made me feel like I was crazy. With him, I lost my temper in such a brutal, violent, albeit inward, way that I hope to never, ever feel again. Before I met him...that would not have happened.

It hurts a lot to admit that he caught me at the perfect time. I was so vulnerable. I'd already been abused, I was perfectly conditioned to let Jason come in and groom me for a whole new kind of abuse. I thank the gods that I got away. That I sent him away. I have always deserved better. And hopefully the next time, the person I let in will be deserving.

I think I need to sit on this for a while. Jason's parents deserve peace. So do I, but I don't want it to be at anyone's expense. I'll think about it. About having the painful talk. I miss them, you know? I have fond memories of them, of Kathy's cooking, of Joe taking me fishing, of Kathy's garden, of Joe wanting to take me shooting and ATVing. I suppose that even if they both go to the grave and I never speak my piece to them about their son, I'll always have the memories.

Saturday, February 6, 2016

well, DUH

So, I had a silly thought while I was cleaning my sink out. It was slimy and gross, but don't worry - me and my friend bleach took care of it. Anyway, while I was working the thought occurred to me that bleach was pretty awesome. I mean, it as scouring so much scum and muck with total ease. It made me think of how I had rid my life of Jason. Not that kicking him like a bad habit was quick or easy. I paid a lot. Way too much. BUT?! Thinking of scouring scummer, I had the thought, "Geez, makes me wish there was a spiritual bleach I could use on me and Jason's bad joojoo." Then? I almost stopped the thought, mid-thought. With, "omfg, what's wrong with you?!?! are you a witch or not?!?! who are you and what have you done with me!??!"
Heh. So yeah, I smudged down the whole apartment. Thank you the universe :)

Tuesday, January 26, 2016

coloring observations

I'm noticing that I'm beginning to notice my thoughts and feelings. Without immediately reacting to them. Or trying to block them out. I just give each thought and feeling some time in the spotlight and then - life goes on. And? I get to actually ask questions. Ask myself - does it matter? Is that important? Should I be doing something about this?

It's...different. Terrifying, yeah. Definitely. But...I don't know. This is good, I think. I worry though, worry if...I don't want to buckle. Or run. I don't do that. I was a person who refused to do that. I think I'm still her. There's just so much pain. Gods I can't wait until I can stop talking about pain.

Gotta start the mood stabilizer tonight. Guess what? It totally causes diabetes. Hooray. I'm scared. But I suppose it was never really about feeling fear. It was about moving even though the fear was there. I feel like I can hear myself, who I was before 2012 hit. And everything changed.

I'm afraid to think of what I need to do in regards to having mental illness and being professional with my employers. Not sure there's anyone I can ask about it, either. I don't want to tell, certainly. I have... I'm just worried, about losing my job. That thought terrifies me.

Saturday, January 23, 2016

worry

So, Friday I had a half-day at work. I needed to miss the morning because I had an "emergency appointment" with a psychiatrist to talk about meds. I thought I needed something - more meds, different meds, a combination of meds - just, something. I feel like I'm out of my fucking mind. So, anyway, the psychiatrist thought I needed something too - a combination. Gotta start on a mood stabilizer, go back for a follow-up, and then increase the dose of zoloft. I hope to christ it works.

After that, I treated myself to breakfast at my favorite diner - neighborhood cafe. Mm. So gooood. I was on my phone, cause I was by myself and I wanted some sort of company. I had someone reach out. It was really nice. Then I noticed I got a msg from Beth, from work. It said she was worried, about me. I sort of froze up inside. My first instinct is that she could use that worry to ferret out truth, which could be used to cost me my job. Not that she'd need to make that sort of effort - a word from her would probably do it.

I cried, earlier. Doing my color meditation. I thought about her. About being helped. About trust. It just hurt.

Going out for a bday celebration at my favorite microbrewery was great, though. Mary came, and Elysa and Ande, and Brandy and J-D, and Cassandra and Kameron, and Laura, and Abe and Cat. It was good to see everyone, and just talk and laugh. I just...didn't have to hide anything, or apologize. I could just...be me.

Had a talk in the car with Mary, after. I don't know how we got to that talk, but it happened. I let some of the really bad pain out in front of her. She reacted how I expected.

Gods above. Let the meds work. I feel lucky to have made it to 30. I felt lucky to have made it to xmas, and before that, thanksgiving. It can't go on like this. I feel like a pendulum. And I get motion sick so easily...

Monday, January 18, 2016

eff you

You know what? I'm taking back my birthday. I'm tired of it not being a happy thing for me. It fucking is! I'm here and I'm awesome, damn it!

You hear that?! FUCK YOU, CHILD MOLESTERS!

Friday, January 15, 2016

it hurts

I am feeling some terrible pain right now.

I miss wren. I feel so alone without her. Her humor, her cussing, her attention, her nerdiness. Her love.

I miss reading her writing. I miss writing with her. I miss morph. He's with me but...it's not the same. He's in agony. I can feel it. I have trouble not thinking about it.

The suicidal thoughts are weak now. Sobriety makes the pain a lot clearer. It's strange to me to deliberately choose to feel the feels. These feels are strangers to me. Interesting bedfellows I guess?

Sunday, January 3, 2016

the bloggess

So I just subscribed to Jenny Lawson's blog feed. I like what she's accomplished. (I have to remember to get my friend that 3-month subscription to audible for a bday gift, and to get the niece an audio copy of Furiously Happy from audible - hopefully I have her email addy somewhere.)

She had a post today about this one word challenge. Supposedly, the challenge is to choose a word to live by, like a personal mantra or goal for this new year, 2016. I like the concept. I like that choosing a word is sort of like a contract with myself to live out the year and do it with positivity and hope. I also just like the fact that it's about words. I love words, language. It's why I donate to and listen to A Way With Words, the podcast show. So goooood.

The compulsion to just sink into my usual retreats is powerful, now. But, I'm liking what I've been feeling in resisting the urge to sink. The actions I've taken - telling my story to reach out to friends, writing responses to them, using self-sooth techniques.

No idea if there's a word to pick, if there's any one thing that could help, or help me most.

"Someday," maybe.

Saturday, January 2, 2016

walking back into the ring

So I think I'm ready. If not, well, I've already got myself moving forward. I've made myself do a lot of stuff. A kung fu kid reminded me of that :)

I reached out. Told my story, one might even say. Just...a note, letting friends know that I'm hurting bad right now and that I'd love to hear or see memories of happier, me-er times. Got a lot of hit backs. Julie, Percilla, Sami, Bobbie, Michael VanDersomething, Becky, Laura P A, Teresa, Mary...

It was really good to have so many people reach out - especially the unexpected ones. I really loved feeling cared for and loved. It was so comforting. And I made time today to get back to people. To write to them to thank them for hearing me and caring and reaching out. I can't believe how much it helped me feel better to respond to everyone and cry while I did it.

My Deksi was right - I gotta tell my story.