Words for Wednesday/Un-Monday Missive #10

Words for Wednesday time again and this month the prompts are coming from River at Drifting Through Life.

Here are the words:

Extrapolate

Coconut

Spirited

Schism

Paltry

Motivation

And/or:

"He had blithely gone his own way, carelessly breaking my heart as he waved goodbye."

I have some homework from my therapist to write a letter to my sister explaining my experience, validating my feelings and so on, so I'm going to kill two birds with one stone and try to use these words in my therapeutic writing assignment. We shall see how that goes!

---

Dear Sister,

I have not yet decided if I will attend Christmas at our parents'. My trepidation does not originate in postpartum depression or an anxiety disorder (though that certainly can't help) my hesitation arises from the fact that you will be there. This might surprise you to hear, but things are not at all kosher between us. Everything is not fine. My motivation for avoiding the traditional family Christmas is simply to avoid seeing you and I will explain why.

Many moons ago, when I had just had my baby, I remember you and Mom agreeing to come up and visit and help me out with some light chores and by bringing food; regular postpartum support type of stuff. Instead, you showed up without food and with some stranger (your new boyfriend) and talked about yourselves for nearly an hour while my husband and I listened to our belly's growl in hunger. 

Then you took me in another room in a very dramatic fashion and told me that you were pregnant. Pregnant by the boy you were supposedly celibate with,"he sleeps on the floor," you said. As if you hadn't lied enough in our youth, you just had to keep going into young adulthood. Is there some world record you are after?

 

When we returned, Mom told me "now don't feel like we're here to steal your thunder" and I felt a lash on my  heart. That's exactly what you were doing and I was told not to complain about it.

When you all left, I sobbed. I sobbed for you, I sobbed for me, I sobbed for my son. It was mostly his thunder you stole. I never expected to have any. The paltry show of support I saw from you and Mom at that visit was about what I expected from my side of the family. Thank goodness my in-laws are more capable in that regard, but I digress. 

A schism on top of a schism formed that day and began expanding. We have never been close, though many times we have claimed to want otherwise, but I feel like this last betrayal has driven the wedge to its terminus. 

What betrayal? You just got pregnant? By accident, you say? Bullshit. This isn't the middle ages, you could've prevented a pregnancy had you wanted. I do not find it at all a coincidence that you conceived just as I delivered. You couldn't stand the thought of me or my child having a pedestal for even the smallest amount of time and you tricked that ignorant boy you call a partner into knocking you up to steal our moment, you couldn't be there for me, you had to make it about you.

That betrayal, that lack of love and caring and acceptance for me and mine, that is what I take personally and what has haunted me these past several months, why I don't wish to see you or my new nephew. 

It pains me to say these things. To see the sticky blackness of my anger come to life but there it is. I can't hide it anymore, I can't deny it, I am sick with anger at you and that is why I hesitate to partake in our family Christmas. 

I'm not interested in watching you cast motherhood into competition and I'm not interested in buying some cheap coconut scented bath products for you as if I wanted to gift you anything more than a glare. I'm not interested in seeing the culmination of years of poor sibling relations in the chubby cheeks of our two infants. I can only extrapolate more comparison, competition, deceit, and pain from you and my family doesn't need that.

Our sibling rivalry is more than spirited competition, it's downright dysfunction. You are obviously not able to accept this or I wouldn't be receiving overly familiar and glib texts from you. I don't want your texts and I don't want your supposed "sisterly" friendship or support. Cut the crap and leave me alone! We are not close and we probably won't ever be close. I'd rather accept that then continue this painful delusion.

Angrily,

Your Sister

Monday Missives #9

Another in my series of never-to-be-sent therapeutic letters....

Dear Little Girl,

I'm sorry you are in so much pain right now. I'm sorry that you've known so much pain for so long. I know you have been made to feel as if there is something wrong with you, that there is something you have done to bring this pain upon yourself, that it's your fault, but that isn't true. 

You're a simple, sweet, innocent little girl. You are caring and honest and always driven to be genuine despite years of retribution and abandonment; you still strive to keep an open heart and that is a wonderful thing. You must remember this, internalize and cling to this: an open heart is a wonderful thing and you are a wonderful thing.

I hear you moaning in the afternoon, whimpering in the evening, and crying into the night. I hear your sobs and feel you cringe under pressures to reform yourself but you must not give into the whispers between the words. Shed your burdens, let those alien expectations go; rot, crumble, vanish. I offer you permission and gentle guidance to leave these tarnished thoughts behind. Come with me, come to a safer place, a lighter place, a happier place. We can only make it there if you leave those weights behind and I so hope that you do, Little Girl.

It's okay to be angry, darling child. Sometimes the memories will burn but we can't undo the unfairness, we can only rail against further victimization. Life isn't fair and you've been wronged, but better to become an advocate for your rights through injustice than to never realize your strength. I'm sorry this is your truth but it must be so and accepting that doesn't mean you approve or that it is "right" or "wrong" it just means that you are acknowledging where you have been as you proceed to your desired future.

I love you, Little Girl. I'm sorry if you felt that I forgot this. I'm sorry if you haven't seen much love lately, that you've forgotten what warmth and security feels like, but you are loved. Some don't know how to love you in the way you need, but that's okay, others do know and that matters more than any slights or misses.

You are beautiful, Little Girl. You are beautiful and talented and special and cherished. I believe that you have a bright future full of sharing and creating and caring and honesty and I so look forward to seeing you dwelling in those possibilities as they become your reality. You deserve that happiness, Little Girl, you deserve joy and acceptance and pride and peace. If I could give them all to you in one big present I would, with a slick, violet silk ribbon and thick silver wrapping paper with the raised designs that your fingers love to trace and caress, I would give this most precious gift to you without delay-but I can't. There is no finished product only pieces and pages of instructions, nuts and bolts and expansion sets. You have to do this on your own. 

But, oh, what a creation it will be, never completed of course, but stupendous and marvelous. I imagine a sequoia stitched together out of bark, sheaves of papers penned with your stories, thick wool with whimsical designs and flowing colors and such soothing texture, sparkling baubles sewed into the seams and shining art glass hanging from every branch's elbow, all your favorite birds visiting and commenting on the new digs. I imagine a monument, a life well lived, favored memories instead of sorrow and regrets. 

Let's do this, Little Girl. Please. You and me, let's make a future.

Trying to love you more than ever before,
Your Older Self

Monday Missives #8

Another in my series of never-to-be-sent therapeutic letters....

Dear Chemicals,

Yes, you chemicals up in my head and down in my gut. All the conspiratorial bunch that have colluded to make my mood so unstable of late, this missive is for you.

I don't know if you were inspired by the challenges in my life to possibly "up the ante" and throw me a curve ball on top of new parenthood and all that, or if you simply woke up one day and decided to screw around a bit, but I'm really ready for this melee to cease. I'm ready for an upward swing.

I'm ready to have my concentration back, my memory at a better level, to have my thoughts free of the vivid imaginings of hurting myself and my child, free from the desperate wishes to miraculously start a new life at the drop of a hat. I'm ready to be busy again, to have things that I want to do, goals to achieve, adventures to explore, to laugh and to play and to work.

I'm ready to leave the sleepy anchored feeling behind that keeps me in bed longer than I need to be. I'm ready to leave behind the nauseated feelings from the horrible anxiety you produce. I'm ready to be a contributing member in my marriage instead of feeling like my husband is a single parent. I'm ready to have a life again. To be a mom again.

I'm trying to tame you but it would be so much easier if you just got in line, if you were nice for a bit. Please? These drugs that I'm taking to curb your force over my life don't seem to be doing much. I'm terrified of moving to something different yet afraid of staying on them and making no progress.

I feel so helpless, at your mercy, at the mercy of these prescription drugs, at the mercy of those who tolerate my sick self. It seems that one push and I'll finally topple for good, yet I always seem to remain perched here, in turmoil, at the edge of disaster. 

I can't understand you, you dastardly chemicals. It seems so self-defeating what you do, and yet you do it over and over, not to just to me but thousands of other victims in bodies all around the world. It makes no sense. Is this really just a cruel game of no winners?

I'm so tired of this wicked game. I can't forfeit. I can't seem to win. We're locked in a stalemate and I can only hold on and hope I get the upper hand soon.

In the meantime, screw you chemicals. You're just plain mean.

Hating how you make me hate me,
Hannah

Monday Missives #7

Another in my series of never-be-sent therapeutic letters, this from a few weeks ago, since I wrote it I've realized that I need to work on acceptance but here goes the expressing anger exercise...


Dear Sister,

I am still struggling with anger, so much anger, and it is a strange thing to me. Like a new fisherman unsure how to wrangle slippery fish I am unable to grasp it, manipulate it, dispose of it and so I am writing yet another letter to you as I attempt to expunge this toxic ire from my system. 

Complicating matters more is the fact that our family doesn't express anger very well and in a way the lever to release the negative energy has been glued, rusted, and locked shut for so long I have a damnably hard time expressing these feelings.

But I will try, and try again until I find the relief I need.

fuckyou you flaming hellbitch of a flaming sonofabitchcuntstupid stupid idiot i can't believe you how stupid and rude and insensitive and mean and stupid bitchface asshole stupid potholes in my heart, stinky rotting moldy jam in my fridge, black-brown sticky oil on my hands and bubblegum dogshit in the creases of my soles I hate what you do to me, I hate the bitter stinking den you have made in my heart and i want to roust you from your evil keep and banish you from my life, my mind, my obligations, I resent that I like you terrorize me that I give up so much of myself to your manipulative, soul sucking black hole of selfishness, all the anger I feel toward you is squared by the anger I then feel toward myself for letting those feelings burn me so!

God dammit, ****, why did you ever make me think that we could be close? Why did you and Mom ever imply that you would work on things, give me this infernal hope that leads me on, ties me down. I have to kill it, excise it, cut it lose and chase it away like some friendly fawn outside a slaughterhouse that doesn't know any better...

"I'm done" rings through my mind so often as I think of things, "I'm done with this shit," I want to walk away, I want to flee, to take up residence in some lonely, cold observation tower in Greenland or the Northern Territory, protected by distance and ice that you would not brave to harass me. I would rather spend my years alone, conversing with arctic birds and watching my breath leave me than spend time in your company.

Watching how you handle your pregnancy makes me sick, I can only guess watching you parent will be agonizing. Watching you and that manchild you call your fiance is laughable and troubling. I see our mother and father pandering to you, babying you while trying to help your "partner" mature more quickly, and it hurts me to see their lives being hijacked by this pothole you've dug in our family's path. You can drag everyone else down with you, but I'm not interested. As I've said before, I don't believe this pregnancy was any accident and I will not buy into the drama.

I see only sad things in your future, and maybe it's my mood problems but maybe it's just the path you desire to take and in that case, you are welcome to whatever pity or attention you can garner from others, but you won't get it from me. It's your choice to dilute yourself, to shirk away from your potential, to enable your worst tendencies and cultivate your insecurities.

So disappointing. 


Hannah

Farewells, A Letter

A slightly different Monday Missive today...

I sit here in my corner room. The room that I was shocked and scared to find myself in a little over a week ago. Tonight the room isn't a bare-walled holding pen with locked cabinets but my room. The scuffs on the wall, the sticky patches on the floor are familiar. The sounds of my slippers wresting from the adhesive effect and clapping back down on the linoleum my own personal theme song. The simple room calms and comforts me. I am safe here now.

My name on the whiteboard seemed so securely emblazoned and yet I know it will be easily whisked away from its compatriots. I feel tears of joy and sadness welling up as I think of leaving my friends behind. I am so grateful for their companionship, their insight, their understanding and support. I wish that I could ease their pains, accelerate their journey, somehow make my graduation our graduation so that we may all leave together. 

But our paths part here and while I am sad to go I am hopeful for all of us. I have seen such beautiful things among all our darkest feelings and most tragic memories. We have shared such tender moments, reaching out to help each other despite our own immense burdens. That is something remarkable. Not every unit will experience such grace or kindness on any given day, let alone for as many days as we have shared and I commend those special souls for contributing to such a marvelous healing atmosphere.

Somehow we have created a magical equation where immense sadness plus more sadness equals hope. Part of that has been the wonderful relationship and supportive peer community we have forged and another large part is the amazing staff here at 2 East. All the hard work they have poured into this program and all the care they take in coaxing wellness back into our lives is as sneakily effective as it is beautiful. This culture of caring is not universal and it is not a fluke. Well done. I never thought that having my vitals taken would become therapeutic!

I leave with a lighter heart, a good dose of fear, and a rekindled sense of hope but I also leave with tears in my eyes and a deep, deep gratitude for all those that have helped me on my path to recovery. From fleeting smiles to life affirming and life altering conversations, I have experienced a level of respect, care, and consideration that I had never conceived of before. 

To my special friends and the staff of 2 East, thank you. Thank you and best of luck. I must give myself credit for hanging in with the program and letting the magic happen but I also appreciate the special effect that such a wonderful group of people added to this experience. Not every unit can do what we did here. I may have been able to recover at some other unit with some other people, but I know that I would not have felt as good as quickly if it had not been for all of you.

Keep on fighting the good fight.

Be well,

Hannah 

Monday Missive #6

Another in my series of never-to-be-sent therapeutic letters:

Dear Mom,

Before I knew myself you told me who I was. I'm not sure if we once communicated well or if I simply accepted our non-communication as the standard, but whatever the case, it's not working for me anymore. I don't know how to fix it, how to take the lead or if I should, or what I should be working towards. You're the mom and even though you've told me "you're not the mother" so many times, I have been thrust into that role many, many times and am still put in the role of "Mrs. Fix-it" often enough to have this response ingrained.

I'm tired of grieving for something I never had. I'm tired of the confusion and feeling inept and lost. I'm tired of falling to pieces after every one of your visits. I am sick with the stress this causes me and I don't know what to do. 

I struggle to completely accept the depth of our dysfunction, the entirety of my pain, and the hopelessness of our situation-at least in the short term. I hold out hope that one day we will find a way to communicate. I cling to the propaganda of my youth, that our family isn't "that bad," that we're "relatively close" and that we do things together and have fun like most families don't... but more and more I shed that programming.

Whenever I express concern or pain you deflect or negate my feelings. My severe lack of self esteem makes it difficult for me to believe my own opinions, especially in the face of your rebuttals, but my pain is evidence that my grievances aren't invalid.

I'm so tired, so sad, so sick that while I feel some anger and frustration, their flames fizzle to weak embers that burn only me. I wish I had enough oomph for a smoke signal but I'm not even sure you would acknowledge. It would be one thing to be abandoned, alone on an island, but it's quite another to be ignored, and isolated in the company of others, especially those that are supposed to be your closest allies.

Your Lost Daughter,
Hannah

Monday Missive #5

Another in my series of therapeutic letters, this from a recent dark day's musings:


Dear Brain,

I worry about you. I worry that this disease of mine is ripping you apart, munching holes in the important bits, slicing away support beams until you will collapse into an overheated pile of useless mush.

I worry about our future. I worry that years of this up-and-down cycling will compromise you, jeopardize our longevity or simply ruin our later years. Worse, that we'll get stuck in "down."

I worry that trying drugs again would only make you weaker, and let's face it, you're not the picture of health as it is.

As much as I worry, I also hate. I feel angry, frustrated, and betrayed. I want to bash you about with a giant wrench. I want to you cut you away from my body and leave you on the side of the street, somewhere dusty and inauspicious. I want to literally kick you to the curb. 

In my dirty fantasy, I imagine you sitting near a street drain. Oily water surges over you as traffic charges past, each wave of cars causes you to lurch ever closer to the dark entrance before you vanish with one final teeter. Not a smooth glide into the drain like a little boy's paper boat, no, not for you. For you I want the repulsive, awkward stagger of roadkill on a rainy day. 

I wish I could replace you and yet even more I wish I could heal you. As much as I hate the pain you cause me, the bad memories you cling to, you're still mine. I want things to work. So I keep going with you, as much as I wish for some relief, some easy way out. There are no restraining orders, no shelters, no vacations to take me away from you...

It's you and me brain. To the end. 

Your host,
Hannah

Monday Missive #4

Dear Amanda,

I still think of you sometimes. We have not seen each other or spoken for 8 years now but you still cross my mind. I wonder where you are, what you do, if you are happier or if you are even more sad than you were when I knew you. 

I wonder if you still harbor all that anger and hate. You were so angry when I knew you, not just toward me, toward everything and yourself. So much anger that it was eating you alive. 

We were friends before we were enemies and I fondly remember those times, that connection we had despite all the differences between us, our mutual thirst for knowledge and dark senses of humor, a shared love for all things "outdated." 

That said, I remember the bad times just as clearly and they still haunt me. I still experience a cold, sinking feeling whenever I recall the horrible things you said to me and I still feel the fear.

I used to think it was my fault and I regretted not fixing things between us. I don't believe that anymore. Time has blessed me with improved perspective and I realize now that while I may not be faultless in our falling out, I was surely not the mastermind. Maybe not purely victim, but more so than I was able to see at the time.

Your anger and hate was/is not my fault, certainly not my burden to carry or my problem to solve. It has always been yours and all those years ago it boiled over and burned me. I don't deserve to bear these feelings of guilt and shame for a pain that was inflicted upon me. I'm sure that I hurt you in some way but I never wished you harm or threatened you, I can't imagine that I gave you years' worth of nightmares and anxiety as you did to me.

I realize now that that mess was yours and I was much too quick in heaping blame upon myself. I forgive you. I regret letting these things bother me so much for so long but I am glad to be working through it now and I hope this is a good start toward getting this weight off my soul.

I was not and am not the cruel bitch or manipulative whore or other horrible things that you called me. I was simply caught in the crossfire, confused and vulnerable while I struggled with my own adolescent issues. You preyed on me then and left this venom in me, but now I feel that I'm finally getting around to sucking that venom out.

You won't hurt me anymore.

I wish for you a brighter future than those dark days of your past.

Be well, well away from me,
Hannah

Monday Missive #3

Dear Hubbo,

I know that lately things have been harder than usual for us. Trying to take care of the baby and take care of ourselves as well has been whooping our butts sometimes. 

I'm sorry that my struggles have hijacked so much energy and resources. I know that I'm not the only one adjusting, but I get overly focused on my own short comings and struggles, often overlooking the challenges you might have or the stress in your life. I'm sorry.

I'm so happy for you that you are looking into getting your degree finished and even got accepted at the uni that you want, it's awesome. I know I harp on your for dragging you feet on certain things, but you are impressing me with your go-get-it-ness about your degree :)

That said, I'm worried. It's not that I'm not on board, I totally am, I'm just worried about keeping my shit together. I know it's not all about me, but I know how much I can drag the family down when I'm not well. You seem to have a certain faith that everything will work out and I trust in your captainship, it's just hard for me to internalize.

I think you were totally spot on when you made that observation about how I might resent you for being more functional than me. It's not fun being the anchor. Not a grounded, "good" anchor, a "drag us down" anchor. I am working up to handling what"s on my plate now and here you are reaching for more challenge! I'm definitely a bit envious, especially when you get to do school. Ya know I love school!

Thankfully, it's that subconscious, filmy type of feeling that on one level is true but on many others is just a flare of human ego, all emotion without any conscious truth behind it. I don't hate you, I don't wish you wouldn't do this, I'm glad for you and proud of you and excited for the potential this brings to our future together. Thank you for helping me work through these feelings and know that I will try my best to help you (mainly by trying to keep myself together as best as possible).

I know we will get a babysitter arranged for extra help before you begin classes and I know that you have faith in me. I will try my best not to freak out any more than I already am and support you :)

Very happy for you and happily yours,
Hannah

Monday Missive #2

Another therapeutic letter...

Dear Hannah,

I know things are hard for you right now. I know that you are incredibly lonely and that you wonder if something is wrong with you. I know that you wonder if you are doing something wrong that makes people avoid you, if you are inherently flawed and incapable of making and keeping friends.

Not being an omniscient being I cannot offer you assured veracity but I can give you my best guess and my best guess is that you are not irrevocably damaged. My best guess is that your pain is an accumulation of factors within and without yourself.

Being human we're wired for social interaction, we're wired for community but in today's world that hard-wired need isn't being met. Instead physical wires replace heart strings and we are often left wanting. Unfortunately people don't know how to cope with this. You are not alone in your struggle.

I suspect that those you have difficulty connecting with are burdened by the same challenges yet may be unaware of the true nature of their pain. You are keenly aware of the pain you are in, why you experience it, the roadblocks to connection that hamper your recovery and that awareness creates a sharper edge to your loneliness. 

It's not an option for you to slip into a mindless existence of satellite TV and compulsive shopping like so many others. This difficulty doesn't just increase you pain it complicates your ability to interact with people. They don't want to acknowledge that the haphazard bandage of distraction isn't solving their loneliness and they don't want you there to remind them. Most likely, they do not realize this consciously but subconsciously attempt to protect themselves by leaving you hanging.

I know this sounds grim. I know it seems like you will never find friendship and that the plague of loneliness will continue its rampage unchecked, but I don't think it's optimistic or misguided to say that this isn't so. If you have such awareness of these issues, it stands to reason that there must be others. It's not a popular view, the masses prefer their defensive ignorant bliss, but there are others out there that share your convictions. Somehow, you will find each other.

I don't know when and I don't know how, but I think it is inevitable that you will find like-hearted people, it's just harder to find what there are fewer of in the world!

Stay strong, protect your hope, and soldier on.

Lovingly,
Hannah

Monday Missive #1

I've decided to try a weekly format for my therapeutic letter writing. I suppose there is a chance I'll resolve all my issues and run out of letters to write, but somehow I doubt that will happen.

What I hope happens is that I begin to have an easier time expressing my emotions and let off some steam. I don't have a strict format but plan to write letters to whomever about whatever, expressing some hard, negative feelings as well as sharing gratitude and positive feelings; anything to keep my emotional pipes unclogged and free flowing.

With that all in mind, here's my first "Monday Missive." We'll just have to wait and see where this takes us :)

Dear Sister,

We've had a rocky history. A rocky history that I fully accept partial responsibility for, but only partial. Lately I've come to realize that I've borne too much blame for the tension between us, too much guilt and too much sadness. 

The origins and history of these extra burdens is unimportant, but what happens now as I accept my awareness of these pains is important. It's important for you to know that I'm done investing hope in you. It's important for you to know that I'm drawing a line, building a moat on that line and creating some distance between us. 

For too many years I've thrown my well being under the bus because I thought it was owed under some twisted familial obligation. Well, no longer. I'm not the worthless snot rag of our family and I don't have to endlessly listen and advise without any reciprocation or repayment. I have a right to take care of myself first and I'm invoking it. I'm not going to wait around hoping that things change any longer.

All these feelings are exacerbated by recent events, mostly your untimely pregnancy and ridiculous engagement. I am disappointed in you. Not just for the violation of family standards (it rankles me to no end how much shit you talk about our cousin that conceived out of wedlock and then subsequently married the immature baby-daddy and yet here you are mirroring her mistakes to a T) but also for the selfish way you carry out your pregnancy like a reality TV show with hardly any perceivable concern for you child's welfare. 

I still can't believe that you are a moron but it's either that or you are completely deluded about the situation you have created for yourself. I tend to think you, like our mother, avoid reality as much as possible. That is disappointing and frustrating to no end, but slightly better than you being a complete imbecile. 

Why does this matter? Because I feel pressure to partake in your delusion and I am not interested. As far as I'm concerned, your pregnancy and engagement are facets of a quarter-life train wreck and I, for one, am not going to be merrily sipping champagne when the train chugs off a cliff. I just don't need this shit.

I'm not interested in feeding your need for attention or entertaining your romanticisms about the mess that you've made. I acknowledge the fact that everything could turn out well, your child may not have a horrible childhood and your marriage (assuming it even begins) may not be a complete sham, but I truly doubt this and anticipate a barrage of stressors from the fallout of your train wreck to befall me and my family.

Again, I'm not interested. I'm not interested in advising, listening, troubleshooting, enabling, or rehashing any of your drama. I will not feel guilty for avoiding you and the stress you represent to me and I will not feel bad for putting myself and my family first.

I am digging this mother fuckin' moat and if ever there comes a day when it becomes troublesome, I accept those repurcussions as a result of my decision to distance myself from you at this juncture and I'll accept responsibility, but for now, I will savor the peace my safe space gives me. 

I hereby relinquish any hope or expectation for us to be sisterly sisters and simply accept that we happen to be related and occasionally in close physical proximity. I will be decent and helpful when I can but retain the right to be a downright bitch as necessary in order to protect my well being and that of my family.

Your sister,
Hannah