Last night before I went to bed, I said to myself “tomorrow has to be a better day”. Well, it was slightly better, but that depends on how you look at it.
I woke up to the front door slamming shut, a 3 year old crying and my mum yelling to come and help her. So I jump out of bed wearing a massive t-shirt and bright orange beach bum undies, run to the front door where my mum (who was in hospital a week ago) was trying to calm my 3 year old niece “Mary” down who was crying and thrashing around on the floor, screaming for mummy, so I pick her up and cuddle her, rub her back, tell her I love her, I need a coffee, would you like some milk beautiful girl, look how silly we look walking around in our knickers, my 6 year old nephew “Jimmy” comes over and wraps himself around my waist, so I cuddle him too, get him some milk, I tell him we’re all a part of the knicker club, they start giggling, my mum looked like she was going to cry, I tell her to go out the back and calm down, I get the kids to eat their brekkie, talking about who knows what while I wake up with my coffee, I walk out the back, shut the glass door keeping an eye on the kids and hug my mum, what happened? My sister decided she needed to get out for a little bit, my mum can’t deal with her anymore. It’s all going to be ok. A bit more talking and mum calms down. Kids are happy playing with lego.
Get a call, my sister thinks she’s having a heart attack, she’s pulled over to the side of the road. The kids are manageable now so mum starts getting them dressed for school and kinder, I throw on a flanny, shorts and thongs, jump in my car, pick up my sister and take her to the hospital. After 2-3 hours we find out she was just having an anxiety attack. On the drive home I tell her she needs to get professional help, her head isn’t right, it never is, she knows, she hates herself all the time, she’s a mess.
Today got me thinking about my past and how I struggle to open up to anyone, including my family, so I think I will. Just a little bit. Small steps. Deep breath. Here we go..
My sisters; My twin sister “Kate” and I grew up very shy. We’re quite similar in looks (identical to everyone else but us) very different in personalities, she’s my “go-to” person, I’ve always got her back and she’s always got mine. I used to cry if I was told off by anyone, parents, teachers, you name it. I don’t remember much about my life before I was 10 years old, but from then on I didn’t get a lot of attention from my mum and dad, in saying that they were the best parents though, not too strict, not too lenient either, they just worked a lot and didn’t have a lot of time for anything besides that, because they had to deal with “Anna” my older sister. Drug addict since she was 13 years old. Brought home in cop cars numerous times. Disappeared a lot. Been in quite a few car accidents. Got into the raving scene. Heroin. Died a couple of times. Broke my parents hearts over and over.
She is technically off drugs now, went on a methadone program a while ago before she had kids thank god, wants to go back on it though, she still has dependency issues; alcohol, pain killers. This is why she hates herself, she wants to give her kids better but she doesn’t think she can. I love those kids. I will do anything I can to help her and them.
Me; I moved out at 16, started dating a guy who was nice, I’m ashamed to say I didn’t even love him, or even at least think that I loved him. Smoked weed every day. Drank alcohol every day. Became anorexic from an eating paranoia, where I seriously thought everyone was looking at me. Was I eating too loud, am I chewing weird. Don’t ask, it was strange I know. One day before my 18th birthday I decided not to smoke or drink. I just didn’t feel like it that one day. I put on a clean light pink top, size 6 (Aus) jeans, which were (horribly) still slightly baggy, I cleaned the disgusting house, I did the washing and I ate toast and actually enjoyed it. Then while my arms were elbow deep in soap suds at the sink and I was staring out the window at the beautiful sun shining in and the birds chirping away, I see my mum. She’s come to visit, she’s never come to see me. We walk to the park up the road. She tells me she loves me and misses me. I tell her I love her and miss her too. She tells me to come home when I’m ready. I hugged her for an hour on that park bench. I’ll never forget the way the sun shined through those gloriously big, beautiful, bushy trees as my mum held me. I’ll never forget that hug, like she was giving me all of the love that she hadn’t shown me, that she wanted me to know, silently, that I’m always in her heart and her mind. That life can be great, life can be beautiful. I can be beautiful. I’m starting to cry even just thinking about this day, apparently I can’t detach from this story, it was the best day of my life and I will never forget it. I left the next day. My boyfriend at the time cried, I didn’t realise how much he loved me, I hated doing that, I talked to him for a long time after, I wanted him to be ok, I just wanted a better life.
That’s about all I can write for now. I’m starting to feel really uncomfortable. I’m glad I’ve written this though, it’s not full of details but it’s what I know I need to do. The past is the past yes, there’s no need to dwell on it, but I can’t just lock it up and throw away the key, in the end it’s all a part of how I became the person that I am now. I reached right back to the deepest parts of my memories and remembered one of the happiest days of my life that I have never even thought about since that day, and for that, I am grateful for where I am and who I am today.