I am told often to “Stop living in the past”. Why people assume that I can click these emotions and memories on and off whenever I want I don’t know. The truth is I can’t.
I’m told by my Dad and my twin sister that I’m trying. There must be something more I can do. My one friend has said this also but she understands a lot more than my family. Maybe because she was there for most of it or because when I drank I didn’t hide anything.
I do feel an extreme amount of guilt and grief. The death of my Mom was harder on me than anyone knew. No one understands what I had to see and do when she died. They don’t understand what it was like in the years before her death. They don’t know what I was going through because I never said anything.
I always joked that my twin stole my backbone in the womb. She’s always had twice the backbone while I had none. I had liquid courage. That doesn’t really count.
My entire life I’ve felt invisible, mute, or ignored. I would try to say something and people would talk over me. I have a quiet voice almost like a child.
One employer told me that I should practice changing my voice if I wanted to be taken more seriously. It was a woman who said this. How do you change your voice at 30?
A few years into my alcoholism anyone around me when I was drinking knew when to take me seriously. I admit I liked it for a little while. In the end I didn’t want to be that person and it only caused me great pain.
In the present I have no joy, no pain, nothing. I don’t have friends to talk to or family to talk to. I probably live in the past because it’s when I had the most joy and pain.
It only takes a song, a scent, or a story on the news to trigger the past then I’m snowballing all the emotions at once. It isn’t exactly fun.
When I do go out in public I find myself talking too much and too loud to strangers. I’m over stimulated by the lights and sounds. I feel foolish after and stay home for longer periods of time.
No one takes me seriously either.
My dad had 20 of his birds killed by a weasel recently and was upset. I looked up everything I could about weasels and wrote down what was important. It took a few hours and 3 pages. I tried to show my Dad but he wouldn’t read it. I tried to tell him some of the important things like when he sets the trap he can’t handle it with his bare hands. He brushed me off.
This morning 5 more birds were killed and nothing was in the trap. I asked him if he wore gloves when he handled the trap. He said “No”. I told him he was supposed to and he then became angry at me.
My twin is upset because she has PED related to Chronic Fatigue so I researched all the new information on it, wrote it up and sent it to her in an e-mail. She never responded. I forgot to mention that she asked me to do this.
I don’t want to bother anymore. I want to disappear and see how long it takes for them to wonder where I am or care.
My sister also said she’s glad we were separated in kindergarten because she never wanted to be a twin. She said I have separation anxiety when it comes to her and she can’t handle it. I never asked her to. I only wanted her to be my sister and love me. She said I watch too many movies.
I wish it had been her at the Hospital that night watching our Mother die. Bubbles of blood coming out of her mouth as her empty beautiful blue eyes stared at the ceiling. The nurses laughing and drinking coffee, my father falling to the floor making a noise not quite human more of howl. I couldn’t move in that moment. I stood there recording the scene in my brain to be processed later. Only I’ve never really processed it.
Comments at the wake made to me were “You’re taking this well”. I was. Because to me it didn’t happen. I had to take care of my Dad, make sure my brother wasn’t too wasted, and my sister was over medicated with an infant. What was I supposed to do? The last funeral with my brother at it ended with the casket tipped over and him punching my Dad in the face. My Mom kept everything together.
Right now I can barely make myself a bowl of cereal.