Semi Colon ;

Please let me say this now, in no way do I mean to hurt anyone’s feelings or make light of your own personal struggles or mental health issues. This is my story. I just feel that if things don’t get said no one hears the dialog and things just stay the same.

I grew up with a parent who was disabled by her mental illness. I was teased by peers because my Mom was weird. Kids were often mean and let’s be honest didn’t understand and didn’t want to understand. I struggle with my own sense of worth because of how I was raised. It is a daily struggle for me to believe that people like me and in spite of myself it is true. The World right now is in an uproar about suicide and mental health but I am not sure the World really knows how fucking hard it is to let someone into your suffering. Everybody has the answer the day after. No one likes to be held at arms length to be judged. Some times that is the reoccurring theme of a person living with depression, judgement. Do you know how many times I have heard in my lifetime that my mother was faking her mental illness just for the attention.  The words of disbelief from people because they were under the false assumption that my mother had her shit together but was putting on a show.

If I concentrate and close my eyes I can still see my mother’s tear stained face. I can feel her anguish. I am unable to help. She doesn’t want to be sad but she doesn’t know how not to be. It is not about the things you have in your life. It is that you are in your life. You are convinced that everything would just be better if you went away. The number of times my mother threatened to abandon me by dying…has left me with scars that never quite heal. My pain is just below a brave façade I put out there for the people in my life. The face I want the world to see, not the person I really am. Every time I learn of another death caused by suicide I can’t help but wonder how long that soul fought with themselves, years? weeks? months? too afraid to ask for help? or too caught up in their own demon flow that they just felt they were not worth saving? Or???? Questions I cannot answer, haunt me. I am returned to my childhood; I struggle to regain {my sense of who I am}the ground I have fought so hard for all of my life. My nights are filled with terror and nightmares.

Everybody has the answer the day after. I stopped blogging for a few weeks because I needed to figure out where I was going. I had started to give away things I own. I have been obsessing about down sizing because I am getting older but I have been ANGRY, agitated, and feeling like I just wanted my ride to be over. I guess I didn’t realize how easy it was for me to slip into the abyss. How many times in my life did I stand frozen with fear watching my mother in the depths of her illness, in pain and anger and self loathing, struggling to find a reason to stay? I knew from an early age she had to find her own reasons to live, that we weren’t her reasons. I think sometimes that is why I feel like I am not enough. Children should never be responsible for an adults happiness and well-being.

Never under estimate the power of a smile or a kind word or a firm well meaning question. Someone in your life is out there trying to find a way to keep you in this life. Believe it. You are loved so much more than you give yourself credit for. You are strong in a way that makes your inner beauty shine. You are kind. You are wanted. You are everything to someone. You are ENOUGH. I love you. Everyone struggles. Everyone cries. You are not alone.

I have been having a difficult time finishing this piece. Menopause is no joke. I hate the person I am right now. Overly emotional, tired, and hateful. I am not this. I am better than this. Trying to come up with answers I could swallow, I made myself sick. I have been having a hard time trying to figure out where I am going. I took some time off from blogging to relax, breathe and reconnect with who I am and what I want for myself. Love is the greatest gift we can give. I LOVE YOU.

For more information about Project Semicolon please visit: https://projectsemicolon.com/

Never Give Up On The Person You Are Meant TO BE

 

 

Oh to be 50!

February 6th. It seems like an ordinary day and for most people I am sure it is. It is one of my toughest days to get through every year. Brenda was born on this day 1967. I write about her every year on her day. Love does not diminish just because the one you loved has gone, it simply becomes something quieter, something different. The tears that are rolling down my cheeks right now are a mix of sadness and joy; sad for the things we will never do together and joy for the acceptance and love she always gave me. Just because you have siblings does not guarantee you will enjoy them but I was lucky. She was my kid sister, my friend, my confidant, my partner in crime, mine.

She would have been 50 years old today. I can’t help but wonder if her beautiful red hair would be a slight shade of pink from the subtle grey hair I am sure she would be trying not to take ownership of. Would her beautiful face be wrinkled from time? Things I will never need to know the answers for.

The girl I grew up with was shy, timid almost. I swear she was born with a broken heart. She did not know her worth. As the saying goes,”you only accept the love you think you deserve.” So yes, you guessed it; her taste in men was HORRIBLE! We were both so young living life trying to find a path to our own happiness. Why didn’t I see she was hurting? Why didn’t I know enough to help her get away from those bad influences? Now, I have the experience of life behind me to understand but not then.

I freely admit when I think about my kid sister I always see her through rose colored glasses. That is the love I have for her. She wasn’t perfect. I am the one who put her on a pedestal. I am the one who tried to fix her brokenness. I am the one who didn’t see her truths because I didn’t want to look. She did some pretty shitty things to her life. I know now she was drowning, fighting to stay above water. She didn’t like herself. She never learned to forgive herself for her own shortcomings. She was convinced she wasn’t good enough. She spent her life trying to run away from herself instead of working her way TOWARDS something better. Once upon a time I was crying to her about my own struggles over my weight, my beauty, my self worth. I told her I would give anything to be like her because I thought she had everything. She sat very quietly listening to me and when she had enough of my pity party she said,” outer beauty is a prison. No one cares what I think or if I have a brain. They just look at me and make assumptions about my intelligence. They assign me a value. Men chase me like a prize to be won. I wish I were more like you; you have everything.”

Her words broke my heart but they made me see for the first time. We all struggle. We all have pain. I never got to tell her how much I loved her for all the things she was to me. She taught me so much about the power we all have but keep hidden in ourselves. After she died I came to learn from other people in her life just how much I meant to her. She admired me. I was her older sister and she was proud of me. ME!?! I am a better person because of our struggles together. Whenever I feel like I can’t go another step I try to remember that our journey together is not over just interrupted.

I miss you, Breny.

Love You,

Trish