Dilemmas are only resolved by even bigger dilemmas. You drunk chat your boss and ask her the most personal questions, you realize it isn't cute, and then you get that dilemma shrugged off from your worries through a pop-up Messenger notification saying your aunt has already passed... That you can't quite respond to yet...
Good morning.
Only the sound of running water filling up the pail kept me grounded in reality, and for a few, calm minutes, I opted to ignore my phone. Last night was a mess, I had a drink with my boss whom I've been living with for running three months now. I woke up to a small puddle of vomit on the floor and even more vomit in the toilet, unflushed till this morning.
My boss and I were just discussing how family issues never go away.
How do you mourn the people you grew up with? Are they my 'loved ones'?
First was my grandfather.
I know I spent a night or two poring my thoughts over his demise, and I did lie down on the floor and had my toes curled up as I cried. For sure, my heart holds a spot somewhere for him. My grandfather has visited my dreams and hounded me in my thoughts even at the most intimate of moments--and yes, I am referring to sex. I mourned for my grandfather, and even if it wasn't the best of mourning, I mourned the best way I can. His ghost comes back to visit occasionally, and I welcome him every time.
The short minute quietly turned into two. Then, three. Then, thirty. I still couldn't close the notification.
I remember that Niquee, older than me by five months, the eldest among our bunch, has blocked me on Facebook. Just when I thought things were turning out for the better. Just when I started hoping I could find my way back there. Maybe I could with Trixie, but what can she do?
What can I do? If I send money, I'll be deemed that bitch who thinks money solves everything. Besides, I'm barely scraping by.
I'll also be an unwelcome guest. I ran away from everyone, but why does this family keep haunting me and try to bring me back?
I don't harbor any grudge against my aunt, no. But I realize now that maybe I don't because she's now dead, that even if I stand by her grave, corpses can't talk back. I'm the victor, and there'll be no one to correct my false recollections of my childhood. But that isn't what I want. I need to be kept in check whenever I retrieve my lost memories. I need to be told when I'm telling the stories wrong. But I ran away because I can only let people in to a certain extent.
Fuck, I'm messed up.
The way running away fixes problems, I realize, is this. The elders die one by one, and only then will I be free enough to go back and visit, because dead people don't talk back.
I just want to bow my head, kneel down, and apologize.
I don't want to be told any condolences when I'm hanging on by a thread at the coattails of this family; I don't deserve it.
I don't want to ever swipe that notification away, because swiping it to the left will mean forgetting. And I want to remember.
But remembering also hurts. God, we were all just in a cycle of hurting each other, our entire family.
Wow, it's just now that the tears rush in.
But these are selfish tears. It's for my pain, not for my aunt's death. I still can't cry for her.
I can't talk to Trixie. I know I should ask how she is, because this is about her. She goddamned lost her mother. But I can't talk to her. I can't. She's my only link to get back with this family and I should try to be some sort of reprieve for her, but I can't fucking talk to her.
I don't know what to do. I need a therapist, I suppose.
Good morning.
Only the sound of running water filling up the pail kept me grounded in reality, and for a few, calm minutes, I opted to ignore my phone. Last night was a mess, I had a drink with my boss whom I've been living with for running three months now. I woke up to a small puddle of vomit on the floor and even more vomit in the toilet, unflushed till this morning.
My boss and I were just discussing how family issues never go away.
Now, this. Death and life have a twisted sense of humor.
How do you mourn the people you grew up with? Are they my 'loved ones'?
First was my grandfather.
I know I spent a night or two poring my thoughts over his demise, and I did lie down on the floor and had my toes curled up as I cried. For sure, my heart holds a spot somewhere for him. My grandfather has visited my dreams and hounded me in my thoughts even at the most intimate of moments--and yes, I am referring to sex. I mourned for my grandfather, and even if it wasn't the best of mourning, I mourned the best way I can. His ghost comes back to visit occasionally, and I welcome him every time.
The short minute quietly turned into two. Then, three. Then, thirty. I still couldn't close the notification.
I remember that Niquee, older than me by five months, the eldest among our bunch, has blocked me on Facebook. Just when I thought things were turning out for the better. Just when I started hoping I could find my way back there. Maybe I could with Trixie, but what can she do?
What can I do? If I send money, I'll be deemed that bitch who thinks money solves everything. Besides, I'm barely scraping by.
I'll also be an unwelcome guest. I ran away from everyone, but why does this family keep haunting me and try to bring me back?
I don't harbor any grudge against my aunt, no. But I realize now that maybe I don't because she's now dead, that even if I stand by her grave, corpses can't talk back. I'm the victor, and there'll be no one to correct my false recollections of my childhood. But that isn't what I want. I need to be kept in check whenever I retrieve my lost memories. I need to be told when I'm telling the stories wrong. But I ran away because I can only let people in to a certain extent.
Fuck, I'm messed up.
The way running away fixes problems, I realize, is this. The elders die one by one, and only then will I be free enough to go back and visit, because dead people don't talk back.
I just want to bow my head, kneel down, and apologize.
I don't want to be told any condolences when I'm hanging on by a thread at the coattails of this family; I don't deserve it.
I don't want to ever swipe that notification away, because swiping it to the left will mean forgetting. And I want to remember.
But remembering also hurts. God, we were all just in a cycle of hurting each other, our entire family.
Wow, it's just now that the tears rush in.
But these are selfish tears. It's for my pain, not for my aunt's death. I still can't cry for her.
I can't talk to Trixie. I know I should ask how she is, because this is about her. She goddamned lost her mother. But I can't talk to her. I can't. She's my only link to get back with this family and I should try to be some sort of reprieve for her, but I can't fucking talk to her.
I don't know what to do. I need a therapist, I suppose.