I've been throwing ideas for posts back and forth for awhile now. I have three drafts that I am close to being done with but they just don't quite feel complete so I haven't been able to bring myself to publish them. Two out of the three, well, I was high. And sober me has to go through and try to fix anything messed up in those posts. I'll just say it's been interesting and I will leave it at that. In my creative moments, I also have two short stories that I've been working on but I am not sure they will ever be seen by anyone else. I am so unsure of myself lately, not just in my writing, but in pretty much everything I do. Not sure if it's lack of confidence or just still the backlash of my mom passing that has me feeling so uneasy about things.
This past year, we were closer than I think we have ever been in my entire life. It makes me hurt to think that it took her death sentence to knock some sense into me that maybe I should reach out more. I'm not complaining, the last year was wonderful, talking every one to two weeks, and not just a fly by phone call lasting two minutes. Things that we should've talked about years ago finally got brought up. I finally opened up and told her about the sexual abuse that happened before she took over custody of us. She asked me a lot why I never told her. And I told her, bluntly, she wouldn't have believed me. She didn't believe my sister about our dad. She didn't believe my real mother about her dad (kicked her out when she was 15.) I was already labeled the "bad kid" because I came to them damaged beyond what they thought I was. I spent years and years in therapy because of the fucked up shit that I saw and that happened. I am almost 45, I still have nightmares. The only difference is, I no longer go to therapy. I no longer take pills to make me seem human. The medical marijuana seems to be helping just fine in that department. I feel again, I can cry again, and I don't feel so robotic.
I know I seem to be rambling. I haven't really written or talked about her death. It's not something I am comfortable with. There is quite a bit of "dirt" in my family. I could fucking write a book. And now, if I wanted, I could actually do that without worrying about hurting her feelings or upsetting her, but I am just not at that point to be writing about being a survivor when I don't really feel that I am. I'll be honest, I don't always feel like I've truly overcome anything, because somewhere in my head, you aren't a survivor unless you've gotten over it, something I will never do. It will always be a part of me. And to those who know me who seem to think I have my shit together, I may look like it but not even close. The only thing that saves me right now, is times of a brain fogginess/memory loss. Doctor isn't sure what to chalk it up to. Sometimes they say it's a fibro-fog, but my gastro doctor seems to think it could be MS related as it is happening with a few other different symptoms. I really hope not because I don't need any more bullshit on my plate...
Oookay. So I think I just wasted like 15 minutes just sitting here staring at nothingness. I lost all train of thought on where I was going with this post...so yeah...To be continued...
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