Traumatic Week
The conversation below prompted what I wrote yesterday, slivers of memories trying to be remembered, needing to be dealt with. Settling into my consciousness because it was time for it to be dealt with. ************
Why is it sometimes I think I am ok with what my father did and then something happens and I start writing about it and then stuff I don’t plan on writing comes out; like bitter words of hate and loathing?
Perhaps it is stuff you have held inside
*nods*
And know its ok
I just dislike when it colors other things around me
Yes, it will
But know it is a form of release and that is good for you to do that
*nods* I will keep that in mind
************
I was working through some of my issues this week; it wasn’t by choice. I was trying to help my precious one through a ghastly week. I kept trying to be there for him, but my issues were coloring everything. I needed distance between my stuff so I could be there for him. Needless to say the 2 kept colliding; so I was writing about 2 different things at the same time.
It has been a very emotional week for me. There have been so many things swirling in my head. It has been difficult to keep my emotions in check. I find that when that happens I am more sensitive to strong emotions. I didn’t really connect the 2 things until recently.
This time next week about 12 years ago I found out my parents were getting a divorce, my father told her on their anniversary. They would have been married for 24 years. He broke his vows so easily. I don’t think he ever thought about anyone except himself. I didn’t handle the news of their divorce well at all. It felt like my world had been torn apart.
For a long time after that my family had to deal with the repercussions of that announcement. My son started having nightmares, he was sleeping about 2-3 hours a night, he suffered from separation anxiety and that’s just to name a few. He and his grandfather had been constant companions until then. My youngest sister left home and moved in with her best friend’s family because she was angry with my mother. My other sister threatened to commit suicide because he had denied that she was his daughter. My brother was in high school with a drinking problem. I was barely sleeping, working, going to school and caring for my son. With his sleeping problem I was on the edge. I knew that if one more thing happened I wouldn’t have been able to fix it.
The day my sister came out of the closet about her sexuality I looked at her and said finally…I always wondered. She teared up and threatened to hurt me if I told anyone about it (the tears not the closet thing!) My sister threatened suicide a second time after my youngest sister’s reaction to the announcement. She was in so much pain; I was at the last of my ability to hold everything together.
She called home to say goodbye. My mom pleaded with her, she was crying and begging for her to come home and not do something crazy. While listening to my mother’s side of the conversation I did the most callous thing imaginable. I took the phone away from my mom and told my sister that if she was going to do it to get it over with but that if she did it she was a coward. I yelled at her to pull the trigger. To end it all like a coward. Inside I was frozen, the conversation I instigated would either shock my sister and she would see how asinine it was or she would simply follow my instructions. I steeled myself to the look of utter revulsion my mother had as she looked at me.
Inside I was spiraling out of control, if my sister did kill herself it would be my fault (that’s what was going through my mind). In the instant I said the words I saw 2 different outcomes; one I liked and the other I could do without. On the outside I was cold, frozen, waiting, for her to choose. I was so angry with her that she would do that to us. I told her that she wouldn’t be around for her nephew and that I wouldn’t forgive her if she did. *sigh* I remember my mom looking so betrayed by me, for what I said to her. I told her she wasn’t the sister I had grown up with and that I was sad that she wouldn’t be a part of my life. About an hour later she was home.
I think I told her that of she did something so asinine again I wouldn’t speak to her again. She hugged me and whispered in my ear that I was an ‘Icy Bitch’ and I think she hugged me harder then and said she didn’t want to have to deal with that one ever again. I think I said remember that and don’t give her a reason to come out! Later that night my mom said thank you and kissed my cheek. At that point my world was balanced once again or at least as balanced as I was used to.
After mom went to bed we stayed up talking and I reassured her that I was glad she was happy, that her sexuality wasn’t a problem for me. She whispered her secrets like we had as small children. I listened. She and I were okay. She told me that our father had denied having any other children except my youngest sister. He had pushed my sister to the point of her wanting to commit suicide.
I haven’t thought about any of this stuff since it happened. I guess loss is different for everyone. The situation may be different but the agonizing pain is not. The gaping wound left behind by it is no different from having your heart ripped out. When she told me that he had disowned us I think I broke again. I remember hearing my self screaming inside even as I went numb.
When I woke up the next morning I was someone else again. It was easy to pretend to remember the day before when in actuality I had no clue what had happened. I brushed off their concern because in my mind the day before had not happened. And now I remember it all. I remember feeling my sister’s despair, her anguish and mine was reined in so tightly it seemed be only her pain. I know differently now. I have to relive it as I remember those events.
The other night I was trying to console my precious one and he mentioned that it felt like he had a gaping wound. And I said something like I knew what that felt like and he snapped at me, it felt like he was attacking me. I was taken aback by the venom I heard in his voice it didn’t sound like the person I knew. I didn’t say another word for fear of saying the wrong thing.
My intention had been to comfort and soothe him not to engage him in battle. I know I closed down, not letting anything seep out. You see I couldn’t help him rest while I was feeling his pain and reliving some of my own pain. I froze my pain and helped him. I listened to him and comforted him; even when I wanted to curl up and cry. I did what had to be done and made sure he had a restful sleep.
I ended up writing for a bit to put my thoughts to paper so that I would be able to deal with it in the morning or at least at a different time in a better frame of mind.
************
There are times when I seriously wish that I wasn’t empathic. I sometimes feel so much, that it’s quite painful to watch the news. At times it can drive me to the edge of my sanity. I am trying to keep my emotions on an even keel because it is difficult to comfort someone when I can’t control my emotions; negative emotions especially. Sometimes it feels like a curse rather than a gift.
There are plenty of times that I wish I could just be numb again. To have no emotions would be bliss; to just feel nothing. But it doesn’t work that way. In healing you have to feel emotions and work through them and grow. Sometimes a small break is nice. My precious one does that for me and I don’t have to be numb. He helps me work through the really hard memories. He is the reason that I am healing.
