Family Over Everything II
I’m an only child of an only child…
and I grew up in militant seclusion. My grandfather, an army vet, lost his wife and my mom lost her mom before they even truly had a chance to be a family. She died in November of 1968, Mommy was two.
I remember there used to be this beautiful black & white photo of her that sat high on the bookcase in the living room. I always made sure to keep her dust free. I wish I could’ve met her.
It was always evident that the pain of losing her and the (disastrous) second marriage that followed weighed heavily on Grandpa.
Me circa 1995ish. The story behind them buck teeth is a good one haha.
(Header Image) A picture of mommy, grandpa and me at Uncle James’ funeral in 2008.
I often wondered if he felt guilty for Mommy’s circumstances growing up and subsequent condition(s). When mommy went into a state of psychosis and was diagnosed with schizophrenia, he became a recluse that I hardly recognized. Hell, we all did.
I learned very early how to not trust and live in isolation. We may have all lived under one roof but we lived in three separate rooms. I longed to be around/connect with others but I didn’t know how, and at the same time, I didn’t want them getting too close. I didn’t want people to see just how miserable I was or how broken I felt. I learned the hard that many could feel it and see it all over me. They were drawn to it.
The last time I felt care free and cared for, I was 5 years old.
My earliest memory of feeling abandoned & rejected happened when I turned six; the second time I was eight.
I say this, because now at 31 years old I find myself in need of being cared for…wanting to be absolved from having to worry about bills, where I will live, or how I will eat. I realized I am tired of being responsible for myself because I was forced to grow up & take care of myself & my parent before I even had a chance at being a kid. I’m tired. I’m just plain ol tired.
I’ve never been able to wrap my head around the idea that we’re just meant to survive to suffer.
That’s bullshit.
For 20 years, I have been taking care of myself and a mentally ill, self-medicating parent. The weight of that has been crushing, yet I’m still here.
I had a great breakthrough recently that helped me to see myself more clearly.
I struggle to understand what family is, where home is. I struggle to stay connected with people. I struggle being in spaces with too many people (anything over 30-40 people is too much for me).
And it all traces back to the south side & growing up in a house with relative strangers; taking care of the one who is supposed to take care of me.
I realize now, a lot of my choices and behavior have been born out of a place of wanting to feel cared for and free.
I am grateful for growth & purpose today.
through MRCI (“mercy”) I am creating a space for myself and others like me to finally get what we so desperately need: consistent and quality care.
My daily affirmation to keep me focused: “I know peace & I will thrive in this lifetime.”
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