I am having a hard time addressing this topic. I am not watching the television specials, I am not talking about it with friends, I am not looking at some hard choices I have made in my life since that terrible day. SO, I am not sleeping, I am passing out from exhaustion, and i am drinking fluids like a fish. I can't sit in a chair without sleeping for a few minutes. I sleep in about three hour sprints, and I am so curled up in a ball sleeping that I wake up with a sore back.
My mother recently tried to tell me not to mention our past anymore because we have all moved on to new marriages and lives. She sees me exploring the past as dragging out a time we didn't like each other, or we told mean jokes about her. The sad thing is, they weren't jokes. we used to describe to people some of the things she had done, and although they may seem funny now, they do not paint my extended family on her side in the best light.
We were helpless and powerless then , and now we are adults, some members of my family are bravely peeking over the parapet to see if we older kids made it out ok, then they are adding their stories, and I just want to say to my aunts and uncles that every family has scandal, healthy ones talk about them and then they lose their stranglehold on your future.
I held so many things in as a child, that I soon stopped trusting even people who i should trust. My teachers were cowards, and going to the guidance counselor for help was a total waste of time. Once when Mr Parker went home from school and killed himself, I knew and tucked away a solution for when things got to hard. He had been the most together person I had ever met, he was brighter than the locals, and he was witty and as excited about history as he made us. I knew then, things would never conquer me, and I had a back door of escape. Once a very young girl in my village became pregnant, and my family was gossiping about it, and having heard it, i repeated it too. My mother was so angry, i swallowed finger nail polish to try to hurt myself. Don't ever do that, it doesn't kill you and it burns like crazy, then every time you puke it burns again. Luckily for me I had forgotten all my Dads guns behind the bedroom door. Lucky for us all. I had no idea what dead was,but i feared it less than the bickering and endless name calling between my parents. Now Mom says wistfully, we had some good times, right? As if by outliving Dad she earned the right to rewrite history.In all fairness, we had a better life than my parents did at home as they were raised in huge crowds, and in my mothers case, horrible, horrific abuse. So Bill and I are a bit kinder than they, and they were kinder than what they had. Hopefully my nephews will have had enough love to break these terrible invisible chains we wear like a Jacob Marley affair.
I pray it is not too late. Well in my tangent, i still have not examined 9/11, and maybe it is for the best. Maybe Mom is right.Just pretend it didn't happen.
Blessings.
My mother recently tried to tell me not to mention our past anymore because we have all moved on to new marriages and lives. She sees me exploring the past as dragging out a time we didn't like each other, or we told mean jokes about her. The sad thing is, they weren't jokes. we used to describe to people some of the things she had done, and although they may seem funny now, they do not paint my extended family on her side in the best light.
We were helpless and powerless then , and now we are adults, some members of my family are bravely peeking over the parapet to see if we older kids made it out ok, then they are adding their stories, and I just want to say to my aunts and uncles that every family has scandal, healthy ones talk about them and then they lose their stranglehold on your future.
I held so many things in as a child, that I soon stopped trusting even people who i should trust. My teachers were cowards, and going to the guidance counselor for help was a total waste of time. Once when Mr Parker went home from school and killed himself, I knew and tucked away a solution for when things got to hard. He had been the most together person I had ever met, he was brighter than the locals, and he was witty and as excited about history as he made us. I knew then, things would never conquer me, and I had a back door of escape. Once a very young girl in my village became pregnant, and my family was gossiping about it, and having heard it, i repeated it too. My mother was so angry, i swallowed finger nail polish to try to hurt myself. Don't ever do that, it doesn't kill you and it burns like crazy, then every time you puke it burns again. Luckily for me I had forgotten all my Dads guns behind the bedroom door. Lucky for us all. I had no idea what dead was,but i feared it less than the bickering and endless name calling between my parents. Now Mom says wistfully, we had some good times, right? As if by outliving Dad she earned the right to rewrite history.In all fairness, we had a better life than my parents did at home as they were raised in huge crowds, and in my mothers case, horrible, horrific abuse. So Bill and I are a bit kinder than they, and they were kinder than what they had. Hopefully my nephews will have had enough love to break these terrible invisible chains we wear like a Jacob Marley affair.
I pray it is not too late. Well in my tangent, i still have not examined 9/11, and maybe it is for the best. Maybe Mom is right.Just pretend it didn't happen.
Blessings.
No comments:
Post a Comment