I've been told by many that by "getting" everything out I will begin the journey to healing. I know this to be true, so for anyone reading this sorry to bore you. I was told that by writing a journal I would be able to fully express how I feel about things etc etc etc... I thought about writing in a regular old journal by hand, but ugh... typing is so much easier :) Thus this blog.
(The past continues)
Now here I went from being the middle child to being the
oldest caregiver to my younger sisters. We moved into a tiny 2 bedroom
apartment 50 miles from everyone we knew. Everything continued to be a struggle
for my mom, how to make the rent, put food on the table and still try and be
some kind of family unit.
No one truly understands what life is like after a
suicide. How does one survive that? How does a family survive that? No one
knows what to say to you or how to react around you. It’s a miserable existence.
School projects ask for you to write about your family and where you ‘are’ in
your family. How does an 11 year old child write something down that even she
doesn’t fully understand. I went from being the middle child of 5 to being the
oldest of 3 in this new household, this new family dynamic.
My mom would go to work each day then come home and
disappear on the couch each day. On weekends she’d go out with friends to the
bars. She tried doing everything she could to be involved and make things good
for us in every way she knew how. But she floated in and out of truly being
there for all of us. She was broken, her only boy, her first born was gone. When
she could afford to she’d take us to the skating rink as often as possible,
that became our escape. We didn’t go to therapy, we didn’t talk about what was
happening in our lives, we just existed. Mom was devastated her only son was
gone, she blamed everyone and herself. I think to some degree we all felt “survivor’s
guilt”.
I struggled so much trying to figure out who I was. I
never felt able to open up to anyone. I wasn’t able to express myself in any
verbal way to anyone. Everyday was a new experience in my life.
The fall after I turned 12, my mom met someone new and
quickly fell in love. They were soon married and we were moving again. Into
this mans life we went. Our step-dad was a nice guy, and very over protective of
all of us. He was very kind and gave us what we needed when we needed it and went
out of his way that Christmas, trying to make the holiday what it should be. I
think he felt it his duty to fix the holiday season for our broken lives. Sadly
that didn’t last long either. My new stepfather, passed away just a few months
later of a massive heart attack.
Really, how much can any person take? Let alone children.
I can’t speak for my sisters but I can tell you it was not easy. It wasn’t long
until my mom realized she couldn’t handle raising all of us. Until at one point
she told me I had to leave and “asked” me to move back in with my dad and older
sister. Now I wasn’t the oldest child anymore but the youngest…sheesh. Things
went okay for a while living there. My sister took being the oldest to a whole
new perspective in my mind. And I love her for it now. My dad was in and out
traveling to make a living until he met and married his now wife. She moved
into my childhood home with her 4 daughters and life again was a whole new
normal that I never felt like I belonged in. I was 15 going on 16 and I still didn’t
know what “normal” was at that point in my life. I didn’t get along with anyone
in my new family, I didn’t know how. It wasn’t long before I was once again
“asked” to leave. Move out? To where? My paternal grandmother was the only one
who raised her hand out to me, and I am so grateful she did.
Grandma tried so hard to make me feel welcome, to make me
feel loved. She went out of her way to do things for me like she had many of my
cousins before me. She was the family rock and angel to all her misfit grandchildren;
only by the time she got me she was tired. And I didn’t help much in that
department, I think I found many, many more ways to tire the poor lady even
more.
I floated through my existence while living there pushing
every limit I knew how to make her realize I wasn’t worth the time. I mean
hadn’t my parents given up already.
Life was just a moment passing through time. With no
clear direction, no major future plans. Just live in whatever moment I found
myself in. I vowed then never to have children of my own. I didn't want anyone to feel like I did, unwanted, unsure and lost. I didn’t want to be a
disappointment to anyone else or to find myself disappointed in them.
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