photo by Patricia
Lately, for weeks, the miracle of sleep comes without several waking’s. It could be because work unconsciously needing to be done is complete; the book, then sharing it with friends, then much harder, letting siblings know. Those repercussions shocked my system. One in particular, Seth who lives in California across the continent from me, was particularly telling.
“It must have been cathartic, but why put our family’s dysfunction out there for all to see,” he writes via email, without ever reading the book, even accentuating or bragging that he nor the others will ever read it.
Laying during meditation my heart beat so fast anxiety ramped up the pace. An ambulance came taking me to the ER then an overnight stay. No evidence of a heart attack. But on the ride to the hospital a flurry of words left my lips about my family’s reaction along with tears to the caring attendant. A heart can break in many ways.
Even now I mustn’t speak of ‘it.’ Well, fuck you Seth, though it took a long time to get to a place where that wound healed and detachment took its place.
Some nights waking occurs and the instant panic moving in is questioned, “Is everything alright?” and the answer is yes, you are OK. You’ve done your work. You love the siblings that never touched you in that way, and they know it.
To love in the face of non-acceptance is a statement of power. Keeping distance strengthens me. There is little contact, and in Seth’s case none other than a Christmas card from me signing off, “Love you.”. And that is OK.
The relationship with another sibling living much closer who was a father figure is not much more. And my younger brother Stevie- the same. I know they all mass email with others, including Tom who is losing his wits, even adding me to his emails with jokes until somebody must have told him not to. He really believed that his young self was innocent due to his youth. No apology ever will be coming.
It is in the quiet dark of night that I think of them.