Not sure how I've managed to survive under the broken rubble of denied grief. I'm not even sure that I can fathom the true breadth and depth of what I've lost...what's been brutally ripped from me. I shudder and shake, holding my arms mightily against this crashing wave that promises to drown me in truth and awareness.
Most people wade in the waters of emotional awareness, water up to their ankles. Then there are the brave and curious, who can handle waves up to their knees. Rare is the mighty who dare wade up to their hips, feet, toes barely holding onto sand. Rarer still are the wise, the profane, the courageous, who actually see the tidal wave of water rising, rolling forth and do not run the other way.
It isn't easy to fully immerse in truth, the hidden, submerged reality and acknowledge the depth of ones pain, grief and loss.
I guess denying it worked for awhile, a few decades anyway. I wasn't ready to be willing to drown, to learn I could breathe.
There was no confessor to hear me. Without a mirror, I could not see.
I dislike whining and complaining. Who wants to hear that shit anyway?
It's a sad tale. Probably quite unbelievable to most. Surface dwellers.
I no longer deny...all that has brought me to this place, this rabid moment of awareness. Even as I write, a word, a sentence, a phrase, I Want To Run! I don't want my truth to be true. I feel the weight of the rubble...the childhood world that collapsed and buried me half alive.
See, even with all the abuse and neglect....it was my world, all I had, my everything. I had mother, father, glorious siblings, aunts who wanted to hang out with me, uncles to answer questions and give advice. Grandparents and great uncles to visit and go places with. Back then, I believed...that....at the very least...I always had someone...I always had a brother, sister, relative to talk to, hang with, go for a ride or shop with. I had people to call and visit. There were cards and presents at Christmas and birthdays. Hell, there was even cake, singing, a shared beer, letters in the mail. In my mind, my family, the good parts about having a family....was always going to be a constant in my life, forever. With all my heart, I always thought they'd love me some, smile to see me, look up to, come to me for advice, care about me as oldest sister.
Maybe that's why it took me till 27 to vanish in the night, never to return. In a big way, the pain of the continuing incest and humiliation was an accepted price to pay for having the couple of dozen family members who liked me, loved me, around. My personal torment was equally matched by my love of brothers,sisters, uncles, aunts and grandparents.
Still remember that night I left. I was drowning, highly suicidal, and deeply grieving the loss of my family. I denied it then, the thoughts of leaving them, on the two hour midnight drive....because I couldn't fucking handle the reality, the immenseness of the sudden abyss I had just driven into. I had to think only of me...not of everyone dear to me I was losing.
It hurts to acknowledge to myself how dearly and deeply I loved and adored my siblings. I loved living with my sisters in a rented house in Eastown...how we would buy crab legs, melt butter, spread newspaper on the floor, drink beer and talk. I loved how my sister, Joy, helped me find a job, drove me to and from work, asked me for advice, let me watch my niece, go for walks to the bar. I always thought she, and the other sibs, would always always be a part of my life.
When I moved from place to place, there was always someone to call to help pack. Sisters are great to go shopping with. I always had someone to go to the doctor, store or on a road trip with. I always thought of my siblings as built-in, forever friends. Honestly, I did. I meant something to them. I can't tell you how much I enjoyed helping with homework, giving rides, going to parks, zoos, malls and museums with. I felt so blessed to have over half a dozen sibs. I loved each and every one so very much. Being unable to make friends...having my built-in friends took on much much greater meaning for me.
To this day I am greatly pained....I grieve....it's like I have dug this grave...this grave where, in a sense, they are all now dead to me. I kinda knew my decision to leave them...that it was the end....but I refused to truly feel it until now. It's tough, it sucks to try and even describe how much I lost, in an instant.
I tried not to think about that which I could not change.
I don't know if my siblings ever knew how much it pained me to leave them. I think they knew how much I loved them when I was still living in my hometown. But when I left...did they feel abandon? Did they have any idea how much it hurt me to leave them so severely? Did they know how much I thought about them? Did they know I missed them ferociously and wished I didn't have to leave to save myself? Did they know I had to leave or die? Seriously, my own impending death was the only thing that could have ever dragged me away from being their older sister until the end of time.
Try leaving your ten greatest friends...all at once, irrevocably.
On that midnight ride...part of me didn't want to make it to the psych hospital, my destination. It would have been less painful to crash and burn, than to leave them.
God, do they know how much I loved them? How much I miss them?
An egregious loss of infathomable magnitude, I kid you not.
And I knew it was irreparable...even though I've harbored moments, irrational fantasies....where they still loved me...and I was able to love them.
Sometimes the heart breaks so loud
The tidal wave crashes
All the glasses break
She covers her ears
Seeks comfort in a corner
Awash in the tears
The waters that used to be her life
Yes, I grieve