On establishing identity

[Guest guest]

I kept thinking this morning about something rather disturbing. There was this

year in high school, I remember, I think my sophomore year. My nada was doing

" better, " she hadn't been to the hospital in a while. I always think of it as

the " better " year, but I just connected in my mind the fact that the image I

have associated with the " better " year is the back door of my old house in

Chelsea. I came home and the door was dripping in blood, and my nada had left a

note saying she walked to the hospital. I think that happened in the spring, and

everything started worsening at that stage from then on.

I've been trying to remember the better years, the stuff in between that I was

lucky to experience. Dinner and a movie with my family, trips, sitting alone in

the sun in my backyard making things with dirt. My parents describe my early

childhood as " idyllic, " even though when I was only 8 years old my nada severed

a major artery in her left arm. I was at a friends house, but my sister and

brother were home. She started sticking pins in her head for no reason and my

brother tried to stop her. When he tried to stop her, she ran downstairs and

grabbed an exacto knife and slit her arm in front of my brother and sister. I

came home and my sister rushed to grab me before I saw the bloody comforter in

my sister's room, and I never had to see much more than the comforter but

recently I found out that entire story.

Sometimes my dad and I talk about my nada and what has happened. Every one of

those trips, there was something that happened that I hadn't known about. The

only time my childhood could have been idyllic without overcompensation from my

father is when my nada was at Menagers in Kansas for 2 years.

My whole life I was defined by these problems. Waking up to hear her screaming

in the night, seeing ambulance lights bounce off my bedroom walls several times

a month. I thought that the way I felt didn't matter, that my mother only

mattered, and I didn't want her to die. I took care of her, watched over her,

for years, and as you all understand I became a part of her disorder. An

extension of it, I am basically collateral damage. I'm having a difficult time

separating from that and seeing the whole world. There are so many wonderful

things in this world, I can't sit inside my traumatic memories for the rest of

my life. I cannot and will not ever end up like my mother.

Since so many of these problems are ingrained, even though I have things that

seem to be inherently me, I can't tell what I decided and what I haven't. I

can't start a relationship, or even get outside of my own head a lot of the

time. I know all of this is heavy, but come on, I used to be able to accomplish

good things for myself.

How do you cope, and how do you feel like you can make yourself outside of what

you have experienced?

Thank you for reading.

Kathleen