People often times struggle with what to say to someone when they lose a loved one. I know because I’ve done it. You’re asked how are you out of concern and knowing that you’re hurting. But there’s also the thought that nothing said will make it better.
When I’m asked “how are you?”, I fight back tears. That little 3 word question releases so many memories at once that I’m mentally and emotionally overwhelmed. I normally will look away or at the ground to try and stop the tears. Sometimes it works most of the time it doesn’t.
Just know, it’s not your fault and I understand that you’re really only concerned and at a lost for words. There’s nothing to stop or dull this pain. Just know I’m not ok. And I’m told that it’s ok to not be ok.
I thank everyone for all for the kind words, phone calls, text messages, food, prayers and love. This has been very hard and I’m sure this is only the beginning. I’m praying for peace and comfort, healing of not only the hearts of my brother and I , but also the hearts of all of my family. ❤️
As I sit in IHOP on Christmas Day with my kids, after having to have a real life conversation with my daughter, I am reminded of my childhood which I seriously hate.
As a child, I didn’t lack anything. My Father was quite absent although we lived in the same town. I was the illegitimate child who had to watch my Father be an active part of the kids he wanted life and not my own. It created this void that even now I can’t fill. My mom worked to make sure I had the best. I wore the name brand clothes and shoes and I had the picture perfect room. From the outside looking in, although I appeared to have it all, I lacked the one thing any child yearns for… Love.
Fast forward 11 years and my mom gives birth to my brother. At first, I was upset because I felt as though, the love that I already wasn’t receiving from either of my parents would be given to this “new” child. I often wondered what did I have to do to make them love me? I got good grades in school, I didn’t get into trouble, hell I rarely talked. I was always afraid of doing or saying the wrong things to make my mom upset. During all this time, I didn’t realize that she suffered from a mental illness but all I did know is that she was hurting deep inside, she never showed me any type of love or affection and I wholeheartedly did not feel as though she truly wanted me. But failure was not an option for her so she HAD to raise me and she HAD to do a good job because everyone was expecting her to fail.
When she had my brother, everyone in town thought that I was so promiscuous and I had, had a baby and my mother was telling everyone it was her baby to protect me and my reputation. This is how much people didn’t see me. Or paid attention to me smh. In hindsight, I’ve always been just a girl in the shadows. After I got over the initial shock and upsets of my mom having another baby, I thought maybe this was my chance to give him all the love I never encountered. Rightfully so, I didn’t want him to experience the 11 years of life as I had, feeling like a burden. What child asks to be born and be unloved or unwanted?
Needless to say, I basically raised him. From the time I was 11 up until my Senior year of high school, he was mostly my responsibility. In middle school, I’d go to school, come home to babysit him while my mom worked overnight. On the weekends, she started a side business which would require her to leave early in the morning and return once she was done working. Sometimes it would be around Noon, sometimes the evening. She’d unwind with her friends who were mostly men and I’d retreat to my corner to sit and play her CDs and sing to try and ease my mind. I didn’t get to really be a child. I was forced to grow up early to care for my brother who would down the line turn into my starter child.
The rest of that story of my poor ass life is for another day when I’m not freezing cold but as for now, I was reminded of the lack of love I received when I had to have a very uncomfortable conversation with my own daughter today. I didn’t think divorce would be something my children, let alone myself would have to endure but here we are in the home stretch of separation, petition ready to be served in a week and hopefully soon all of this will be behind me.
I married this man, looking for a love I didn’t have. Trying to fill a void and it failed. And as bad as I tried to make it work because I too dislike failure, it didn’t and I had already lost so much of myself that I wasn’t willing to go through another patch with him just to keep my “family” together. It was very evident that my “family” consisted of me and my kids only.
But now I’m the bad parent in my daughter’s eyes because she blames me for her Father not being around. We aren’t together but he is able to see them whenever he desires. But he chooses not to. She expressed her anger with me through yelling and crying. Saying I made him leave the house and it’s all my fault. Even though I made this decision for not just me but also for them, she doesn’t understand. I do all I can to make this a smooth transition. And it seems as though there truly is nothing I can do.
This hurts. And people say she’s a child and doesn’t understand. Nobody truly understand. I am her…the hurting little girl who just wants that love…😔 I don’t want her to grow up and be me. Where I am right now in life. Lonely and heartbroken…
Everything needs to be left alone even your past, even your pain
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I’m awaken at 2am by my cell. It can only be one of two people calling and before I lift my phone, I already know which one it is… “Hello, sorry to wake you, this is Lisa, Nurse from…” 🤦🏾♀️ My heart sinks into my chest a little further as I listen, sleepily but awake. I hang up, let my phone slide out of my hand and I close my eyes to pray. This is routine. And I hate it. I hate these phone calls. I hate getting these phone calls and being alone. After I pray, my thoughts wander into those dark corners of my mind.
I try to wake up everyday thankful for the ability to see another day regardless of how I think and feel the day is going to go. This is like a ritual for me… No matter how fucked up my life is, I try to be thankful anyways for the good things…my kids and one more day above ground with them.
Lately I’ve felt like utter shit. Physically, emotionally and mentally. I’ve lost 30lbs, I can’t eat or sleep and I feel like I’m bothering everyone around me so I crawl into my shell to protect me from everything and everyone. Daily I crawl out of bed, walk upstairs to work, crawl back in bed when I’m done. Rinse, spin, repeat. I can’t pinpoint exactly what has me in such a dark place but I think it’s a combination of all my life stress, feeling alone and the holidays. I feel like shit…
I had never been one to contemplate suicide. I lost close family and friends to suicide and I’ve always wondered why they felt compelled to take their own life. Until the day I felt the urge to do the same. I tried to end it all. I chased hydrocodones with liquor and I smoked. I put on the cutest outfit and I laid on my bed. My kids weren’t home and I was more alone than ever. Not one text, not one phone call. Everyone was busy enjoying family and the company of others and I was just here. Why? Why should I continue to want to be here? For my kids? They have more than one parent and for some reason everyone seems to think I’m the better suited parent while their Father floats in and out of their life when it’s convenient for him. I’m tired. No one knows my pain. No one knows the shit I’ve been through in life. No one understands why I try my hardest to make everyone else smile.
I felt myself drifting away and so I cried silently. I didn’t want to wake up. I wanted it to all be over, so that I was completely alone and away from everyone and everything. I’ll never be loved, I will never truly be happy, everyday presents a new problem for me and I’m just here unhappy and occupying space. No father, essentially no mother…just me.
The music woke me up. Surely this wasn’t the elevator music on the way to Hell…I rolled over and cried at my failed attempt. And I cried until my face hurt and I could no longer breathe out of my nose. I yelled in my pillow. And then I rolled over and stared at the ceiling. I’m a real fucked up individual…and I’m tired. There is so much hurt and pain inside me and I just want it to go away…
I don’t think I left the bed at all. And the bed has been my safe space. Even though I’m alone, I can bury myself in here. I can cry, kick and scream. I never wanted to be “that girl” and I said I’d never be that girl but here I am. 🤷🏾♀️
Depression is lonely and frustrating and mostly just fucking exhausting.
In My Unapologetic Life... 