Beginnings

"And when I chose to live
There was no joy, it's just a line I crossed
It wasn't worth the pain my death would cost
So I was not lost or found

And if I was to sleep
I knew my family had more truth to tell
And so I traveled down a whispering well
To know myself through them."
- After All, Dar Williams

These lyrics coursed through me as I made the decision to live with no exceptions. For as long as I could remember I held death by my side, using it anytime living got hard. What I didn't understand was that living was going to be hard, but I could also make it a lot easier by being responsible first in my life instead of second. I also didn't understand that death was hard. To make that final choice and know that you will never again make a single choice. There was no going back saying, "oops, wait I was just kidding, let me try life again." There was just emptiness. The very thing I was running away from. One dark night, I gave in to all of that and for a time I had died. Then one morning I woke up and could never again live as I once did.

Weeks passed and though I was living, death consumed my thoughts. Life was hard as a result of my attempt. I damaged a lot of things interally and externally. I realized I was having trouble dealing with the after shock of death: guilt and shame. I wouldn't make the choice to just live- I was too scared.

Then I hit rock bottom. And one day at work doing therapy with a kid, I realized that I would live with no exception. The next few weeks were amazing as I rediscovered how to live again. Or maybe, I was discovering how to live for the first time. Death didn't take up so much of my time and I've learned to enjoy my days without the overhang of death and destruction. Things happen and I deal with them. I'm not thrown in a tailspin every time something bad happens. I deal with them because I have to and that gives me comfort. Choosing life didn't mean I would all of the sudden be better. I still have bipolar disorder and adhd, I still have the memories of abuse from my past. The difference now is that those are just parts of me, but do not define who I am and what I am going to do or what I am capable of. I am shaping my life now and the way I want it to look. I am filling myself up with life for the first time.

Now that I have reached a stability of sorts, I have time for other adventures. I had my fill of adventures in the hospitals and in college, but now I find myself embarking on a new journey.

As a child, I had my mom and my dad and my brother. For the most part that was family as moved around the world. This was also an abusive family with both physical and emotional abuse. When my parents divorced, I was able to see my cousins and extended family for a while. I had an aunt with two sons, one of which sexually abused me. I had another aunt with three girls and a son. I had an uncle that I have never seen or met or heard anyone talk about. I had a grandmother on my mom's side, but my mom took away my choice to see her. I was forbidden to talk to, talk about or see my grandmother. I had a grandfather and when I was young I thought him to be cold and cruel. He married several times. On my Dad's side, there was my Nana and Grandad- who were divorced. I thought Nana was cool and Grandad a little mean. I had an aunt who later had to girls and then another aunt who has I think six kids. That's a hell of a lot of family.

And one day, they were all gone. My mom successfully kept me away from my father and brother for about seven years. With that went all of his family. My mom...I don't know what happened...but she dropped all of her own family except for my grandfather. Why? Who knows, I thought he was the mean one. My family was gone.

In came a new family. My mom remarried and had two awesome little boys. I love them with all of my heart and then some. And, my step fathers family was to become my family. As much as I love them and thank them for filling in as grandparents for the better part of ten years, they can never replace all of the family I had before. It wasn't like they were erased from my brain- I remembered them. And I have always missed them.

I am now twenty three years old, strong and independent and I am ready to go down my own whispering well. I know my family has a story to tell. Maybe it's not that they don't want to tell their story, but that no one was willing to listen.

My family is a history of abuse. It is fascinating that I am descending from so many generations of abusers. I am left wondering why no one stopped the cycle of abuse until me. What is so different now? Am I so different from my family? Why did my mom leave her entire family so late in life? Why was I forbidden to go down this whispering well? What am I going to find?

These are some of the questions I want answered. I want to know my family, for good or for bad. At least I will know and at least it will now become my choice. I have spent the better part of the last two weeks finding my family. I am contact with my grandmother now and I am gearing up for a visit in a few weeks. With that visit I hope to find even more of my family and begin the listening...begin finding the answers.

This blog I will keep running to chronicle this journey. I know myself in the context of my disorders, my own past and the current life I live. Now, I want to know myself through my family.