So many thoughts needing quieting, to let go of, to accept. The loneliness for origin family is a daily grief, yet getting to know any only causes more grief. So it is conducive to my health to accept where my beginnings were but to also let go and live now… for me, as if an orphan.

That makes me smile round and round the meadow. An orphan. I like that, saying aloud talking to myself. And there’s also ways around having my strawberries and eating them too. It’s called ‘cheesecloth.’ Though still in the healing phase of a diverticulitis flare-up, not eating seeds of any kind is a permanent health plan to avoid future flare-ups.

Samuel and I have gorged on strawberry sauce over ice cream, pancakes, and dessert cups. And you have to have whipped cream atop as the added poundage proves.

Now it’s time to get back on track, not only with guiding my thoughts to health, but my body too. The sad thoughts on wanting an origin family might come daily in my dreams unbidden or when awake. But need chasing away because the reality of getting close rips me apart, pulling me back into playing the part of passive sister to walk on. No.

Keep telling myself it is OK to live now with all that I have earned and worked for without others pressuring me to part of a group that kills my spirit, worth and integrity by their silence and denial. All one big happy family? NO. Never was a family.

It was a group of people that terrified and attacked me, and those that didn’t left me there alone. And with years gone by insist silence over wounds never healed. The little eight year old girl needed to tell of the traumas over and over again… of the fate that befell me but never could be told. That did as much damage, or more. And the ones who attacked?

If these things are brought out into the open at the time they occur, not shuffled away out of shame, then those that attack might have a chance too. A chance to be punished by Mom, and to ask for forgiveness from me… way back when it happened. Then each of us may have had a life.

I can tell now finally, and will, saying so to Seth once (via email). That if I had the courage and ability, I would tell all the world, giving speeches and TED talks about what you’re so scared of coming out. That I’d scream it to the universe if I could, which is what the book did.

He is a coward and selfish loser, one I still love, but from afar. Love, because we all have faults and foibles, and can accept that along with so many good qualities. But his insistence on silence poisons me. As if it never happened drowning out all that I am, all the strength it took to get here. Not seeing the real woman that I am.

That special relationship I once thought we had over email? Now gone, because when revealing the book to him he made me feel so bad about it my heart raced wildly and erratically causing a trip by ambulance to the ER and a night in the hospital under observation.

“Why do you have to put that dysfunction out there?” he said. It devastated me, the brother once on a pedestal, now seen as weak, lacking any real care for me.

Why, you fool? You are exactly why I could have died, from shame, and then from my own hand…just like Danny who took his own life at 28. It is no wonder I still sometimes wish not to be who I am. Who wants to have been part of all that? I miss him, or who I thought he was. Big man, big spender, hot shot? No. Just a man I cannot know. Not big brother, or protector, never was.

No, not a family, but a bunch of dysfunctional toxic dangerous people for me. As much as I want you, the you of my daydreams, STAY AWAY!

Little Harriet, a baby bunny in the meadow unafraid of me, continuing to eat clover unmoving as I walk by.

6 thoughts on “HEALTH or TOXICITY

  1. That brother who insists on silence (why put that dysfunction out there?) still holds the false belief that the shame is less if you keep it hidden. He doesn’t understand, as so many survivors do, that silence increases the shame and makes it unbearable. But speaking the truth frees you from that burden and reveals that the shame isn’t yours at all; rather it belongs to the perpetrators.

    I’m sorry he’s not able to understand that and support you.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I’m so proud of you for taking care of yourself. I know the inner battle all too well. And dysfunctional family dynamics can be killer. Yet you’re a survivor. My mother’s untreated mental illness did a number on my family (I believe something she did to my older brother when he was very young contributed to his broken moral compass). And although it mercifully took her out in the end, it didn’t kill me.

    Liked by 1 person

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