Sunday 9 December 2012

Hollow Girl

       Yesterday was a good day. Today, not so much. I've had a couple of triggers that have sent me spinning. One of the triggers made start crying like I was never going to stop. Over the last few months I have been unable to cry, I would feel all the emotion well up in my chest and stop on the throat as if I had Snow White's poisoned apple stuck in it blocking my feelings from coming out. The other trigger was an email from a sibling asking if I'm angry with them (because they can't get hold of me). Always such drama. Always in a tone that makes you feel like you have to drop everything and run to call them, otherwise the world -their world- is going to end. I was thinking about how to reply and decided that I would -sigh- tell him the truth. "No, I'm not angry, I am..." then it struck me that I don't have a name for what I am feeling. This is the thing with growing up without being able to express your feelings, that when I finally muster up the courage to speak up, I don't have the words. I can tell you that after reading his email I felt like I had a hole in my chest. A big hole going from the sides of my ribs and from my throat to the end of my belly. Hollow like a cave. For years I just thought that my FOO were a pain, but still my family after all. Today I feel like my FOO are some people who just happened to share a house with me once but were never a family. Just some people thrown together by circumstances. And it really hurts, and it feels like a hole in the heart because that's what it is: an empty space. They're not there. They never were. They were too busy creating alternative realities for themselves.  Most of my life I have made excuses for them. Whether these excuses are valid or not, the fact remains: emotionally speaking, I do not have a father, or a mother, or a brother or a sister. I never have. I just thought I did. Grieving people who are still alive seems such a contradiction, but this is the reality. It is what it is. To not acknowledge it will only lead to more insanity.
        There is something different about today's episode: it felt more like grieving than depression. It also happened that someone that I don't know well heard me expressing my pain but I didn't mind. I did not mind that someone heard me cry. This is a really big step for me. And you know what? this person was very kind and understanding about it. I showed my pain and the world didn't end.
       I feel that I have crossed the forth wall from my FOO's stage over to the real world. I don't have to be a character in a recorded script anymore. I am allowed to be human.

12 comments:

  1. It is odd mourning people who are alive. I didn't think of it in terms of mourning the people, more in terms of mourning the relationships, the realization those relationships...weren't the relationships they could have been.

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    1. Yes, that's a more accurate way to describe it. Thanks for bringing it up. xx

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  2. Kara, your words perfectly describe what I've been feeling this last year with respect to my FOO. Grieving people who are still alive. And the scary, deadening hole that's there in their place, that's always been there. It's why it's like unplugging from the Matrix--welcome to the desert of the Real. Maybe what you wanted to say to your brother was "No, I'm not angry at you; I just don't feel much about you at all and you're not really in my life." How do you tell someone that? But to be able to feel it and name it in yourself, is a step forward. I believe that. I have to. I'm experiencing the same thing. There's only ever been one person in my FOO who was 'there' for me, and that was my youngest sister. And now she's become the parental enabler par excellence. So I know exactly how you feel. That poisoned apple stuck in your throat is what keeps you from feeling that gaping hole. I know the grieving comes in weird waves, and small things can trigger it. Or big things. I'm going to be skipping my niece and nephew's weddings next summer (both getting married within two months of each other), I won't subject myself or my sister to the stress of being there with my NM, who I haven't spoken to in 2.5 years. I'm sure it will be a long trigger the closer I get to the summer.

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  3. "Maybe what you wanted to say to your brother was "No, I'm not angry at you; I just don't feel much about you at all and you're not really in my life." How do you tell someone that? " That's pretty accurate CS, yes, how on earth do you tell someone that? I suppose the fact that I even want to tell him is really a massive step forward. I know that less than a year ago I wouldn't have even considered possible to do anything like that.
    I'm really sorry about your sister turning enabler. To have had her on your side of the real and to see her going over the dysfunction must be so painful for you. xx

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  4. Oh wow, Kara - I'm happy for you, despite the misery! Apparently 'grief' is a good thing, psychologically. ;-) And it's good to recognize just how cheated you were - you haven't got a family; you've got a brood of vipers that insist they are your family and are entitled to all the perks of being your family without ever having to give anything in return!

    ENTITLED is the right word! Mulderfan has a post on that right now - it's definitely an "I deserve _____!" mentality that causes all the problem.

    You, on the other hand, are just fighting to 'deserve' to be 'alive in your own right'! Amazing contrast, no? :-) I'm cheering for you - cry out loud! Fall apart! Be human! Only your family is going to reject what is natural!

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    1. Thanks Quercus, yes, grief feels so much better than the "pit of despair" :)

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  5. That is a courageous step. Here's to you crossing to the fourth wall. Hugs, xxoo

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  6. HI Kara,
    I think you expressed yourself very well here. The emotions we're left with of growing up in a NFOO come across loud and clear. Your brother might not understand that, and maybe it's better (safer?) to not tell him. But it all makes perfect sense to me.

    Crying is good. I know it might not feel that way, but it's how the body sheds grief. When that grief has built up over decades, and has had no place to go until now, there's going to be a lot of it. This phase lasted a few years for me. I've written about it on BNK as in "Cryus Interruptus" and how healing it was for me. I surrendered to the grief and made "appointments" with myself to cry. I put on sad music and lit some candles and got a big ol' towel to drown my tears in, and I cried and cried and cried. I curled up in a ball and just let those feelings out. It might sound awful, but it was wonderful. My instincts to just let that stuff out were exactly right, and I'm so grateful I was able to let go and do it. It was transforming.

    Kitty

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    1. Hi Kitty,
      I like your idea of making "appointments" to cry. It makes so much sense. I think half the time we don't grieve because we don't have the time to stop and let ourselves feel what we feel. I will definitely take your advice.

      Kara xx

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  7. Kara, I don't know how I missed this post. You've summed up exactly how I'm feeling. Except I can't get the tears out. And I actually did tell my sister what you want to tell your brother. "I'm not angry but things have got to change. They will change, because I can't go on how things are." That's a hard road too.
    I'm sorry this has to be so hard for all of us. It's kind of like being a little kid and realizing Santa isn't real anymore. Realizing that all we thought was real and true, isn't. That the pieces inside of us are all fabricated. And the grief is such a long process.
    I wish I could offer you more comfort, other than acknowledging your feelings and telling you I feel the same way. Please, always know I'm hear to chat (vent, cry) if you need it.
    XOXO, Jess

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    1. Thank you so much Jess, your comfort and support makes a big difference, without you ( and all the other friends who commented too) I'd be doing this on my own. To feel understood, even if I still have to go through the pain, makes me feel less isolated. :)

      Kara xxoo

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