I’ve neglected this space for a while now. I’ve thought about it often but haven’t sat down to make the effort. I could go back and fill you in on what’s happened but then by the time I get to the place I want to be, I’ll find a way to avoid it again. I guess this is my way of focusing and forcing myself to jump right in instead of hiding from myself. It’s time to think, feel, learn, realease and move forward. This is me trying.
The void is still there. It never went away. It’s lurked around, sulking that I’ve been ignoring it or too busy to give it the time of day. I knew it I hadn’t gotten rid of it forever but that I had found a way to cope, to deal. It’s really no difference now than before except I have the better skills.
I’m feeling remorseful and discouraged. I guess I’ve had it in my head that since I have the new skills I wouldn’t have the same feelings. Logically, I know this isn’t the way. Emotionally, it seems tragic that I’m in this place again.
I now reserve the right to use this place for my thoughts, for my feeling. You also have the right to disagree or agree or have no feelings about this at all or anything in between. I feel like something is missing. Something is out of place. Or not there at all. I don’t feel like I’ve lost it cause that would mean I had it in the first place. The self that was raised in the country where there are churches close enough to throw rocks from one to another, would tell me that I need God. I’d used to agree with that but I’m not sure if it was my true self or the one amid to please others and do what was expected of me. The self I am now, at this current moment is unsure. I don’t think it’s religion I’m missing or the concept of religion. There is this hole, this pit, this emptiness where I believe my depression had taken a piece of my brain and is using it as a host. Maybe it is a higher power that I’m missing but I’m not finding comfort in this thought or any pull. Maybe it’s exhaustion. Or just depression with a side of anxiety. Or anxiety with a side of depression. Whatever it is I don’t want to feel more empty than I do happiness or satisfied.
It’s difficult to write. I know it helps to sort stuff out in my brain but that’s only if I write about things that I am trying to process. Or to let other stuff out so there’s more room in there.
I do well for a while and writing isn’t that bad. Then when my brain starts being an asshole again it gets increasingly difficult. By the time I’m really in s dark place it seems impossible to write which is when I need to release my thoughts the most.
I guess I’ll do the back story before getting to the now. Growing up my mother made a point for us to see blood relatives. Once a week we would go to my grandmothers house and my 3 great aunts house (they all lived together). My mother tried to take us to see my fathers side of the family as well. My father wouldn’t go with us but my mother would take is to see his mother and his father when he was in town. My grandfather on my fathers side used to drive tractor trailers and didn’t live in the same state but we saw him regularly. Then one night I remember the fight my parents had about how my dad didn’t want us to go see his family anymore without him, that it was making him look bad. He didn’t want us to see them unless he went. My mother fought back that we would never see them again if we were to wait for him to go. That was that. We didn’t go back unless my dad was in the car. I think we saw my grandma on Halloween one year and for Christmas two years. My mother would make comments about how he never saw them or called or took his children to see them. He would brush it off. They never made the effort to come see us. That’s just how it was.
Now to present day, well close to present day. I graduated in May from undergraduate majoring in psychology and sociology. My mothers, mother helped me move to my new apartment, helped with funding some of my expenses, got a smartphone so we could text, ect. My fathers mother doesn’t know what college I went to. My father didn’t know my cell phone number until a few months ago, I’ve had the same number since high school.
Now to present day. The week of Christmas my mothers father found out that she has cancer. The sentence my mother keeps using is “she’s eat up with cancer and it’s growing fast”.
I don’t know how to process this or how I’m supposed to feel. I know that whatever or however I feel is acceptable but I don’t know how I feel. Maybe it’s empty. I don’t really have any connection or fond memories or memories in general.
I don’t live there and probably won’t get to know her any more now than I did growing up.
She has asked for the grandkids to come see her so why not? I made a plan to go to my parents house and go see my grandmother. It ended up being a whole day event. My father made breakfast, we went to my mothers mother house, then to my fathers mothers.
When I was sick I asked if for family medical history. My mother was able to go back to great grandma had high blood pressure and probably diabetes but they didn’t know it was that… My father was able to say everyone is fine and always has been. I ask specifically do you have…does your sisters have…nothing. So when I was at my grandmas house my dad wanted to show me how he fixed the bathroom floor, shower and sink. While I was in there, on the shelf, was anti anxiety medication with my grandmothers name on it. I was so pleased with myself. I knew it I knew it! It is genetic for me! Muhahaha. I has so very proud until I left. Then I was disappointed with myself and my family. We don’t talk about this stuff. We sweep it out the door in hopes the wind will blow it away. This is the very subject that is incredibly dear and close to my heart and I didn’t speak up. I didn’t say a damn thing. I still was alone in my knowledge of something I wasn’t even sure about.
I tried to let it go. I tried to forget the feeling. I thought about calling to ask but it just didn’t seem like the right way to bring it up. I wanted to know more. If I knew more maybe it would help me understand. Or have support or closure or hope or guidance or anything. This opportunity had laid itself in front of me and I let it stay there. Not doing anything which is the very reason I’m so frustrated with my family. Damn it.
On Monday, I was driving back to my apartment just thinking about how I wouldn’t know if I didn’t ask. If not now then when? When would I decide to ask? On her death bed? After she dies? After or before a chemo treatment?
She lives right off the highway I was driving on so I took a deep breathe in and decided I’d go ask for myself.
I’ve never just stopped by at her house. They saw me pull up and didn’t know who I was until I was at the door. They didn’t know I had a new car maybe they didn’t know I even had a car at all, I’m not sure. She seemed confused and excited that I was there. I explained that Bella was in the car so I didn’t have long but I wanted to talk about something. I wanted to ask about mental health in our family. I straight up asked my grandmother if she has or had anxiety or depression. She calmly but abruptly said yes. I told her that I’ve tried to ask Dad but he doesn’t know about any of the family history. She then proceeds to tell me about other family members and their bouts with mental health. I learned that she is currently on medication ever since her husband found her with his gun. She said she just didn’t want to do it anymore. She said that the only people that knew about that was her husband one of my aunts and her doctor who prescribed the medication. She also told me about how she really noticed the change when she found the Lord. She believes the Lord delivered her from her depression.
I am so glad I stopped to ask. I wanted to know and now I do.
I’ve been avoiding writing about Christmas. I’ve dreaded it for about a month. I dislike Christmas soooo much. For some very simple reasons. I don’t like getting together with my family in an environment where we all try to act like we are on our best behavior then the moment your free to release you abuse substances.
The hostile illusion of togetherness has an awful taste. Why do we have to get together on two days in the winter to act like we don’t have a dysfunctional family. We’re just like the idealistic tv versions of what family should be. God! Can’t you tell by how together we are? And all the food? This is what your supposed to do! And come hell or high water we do it!
Thinking about family gatherings makes my muscles tense. If I fixate on the idea I have the urge to cut.
Until this year both my parents would get hammered after we came back from any family gathering. Not one family gathering but we had to go to my grandmas from 10am-8ish then on the 26 or 27 to my great aunts from 11am-7ish. Then the weekend before or after go to my other grandmothers but the other weekend was for my grandpas side. No worries though grandpa would come to grandmas but grandma refused to come to grandpas because they’ve been divorced all my life. Oh and don’t forget great grandpa while he was alive. And all this needed to be done before the new year or it wasn’t Christmas and didn’t count.
Yes, I’m glad I have family but hot damn that’s too fucking much.
I tried one year to get at least accepting of Christmas, help decorate and listen to Christmas music go to church and such. I only did that once. It didn’t really help.
The last two years I’ve participated with my friends from college. That’s not nearly as bad but it’s also not something I look forward to.
This year I decided that I would try to not let it rule my life. Unfortunately, it didn’t work like I thought it would. In the end it wasn’t too bad. I had to “leave” to take care of Bella.
I think the best parts of the holiday this go round was, as always, the sausage balls and having the pets to help me through.
This year I decided to not go home for thanksgiving. I had the option to take off work or to work. I wanted to stay here. I didn’t want to go home. I have the opportunity to be useful and make money at work. We are short staffed this week because of the holiday and it’s not “fun” but it’s my job.
I actually have a job which is something incredibly awesome to be thankful for. I do have a family which I am thankful for. I also live 2 hours away and have a choice.
My family is upset but won’t say it. They moved it to Saturday but I am still not going. Then they said they are going to come see me Sunday.
Instead of dysfunctional family that I end up feeling worse about myself when I see them then if I don’t I went to my friend/coworkers house. I got to eat and have wonderful company. I enjoyed myself. I really really did.
I feel guilty for not going home but I’m feeling the best I’ve felt in like a week. I’ve been stressed out and upset but today got me to a place where I smiled and laughed and felt whole. I got through a whole thanksgiving without wanting to kill myself or cut or do anything that would harm me or others AND with no medication. Which is so freaking awesome I can’t even explain how awesome that is!!
Maybe it’s okay. Maybe I’m okay.