Wildfire Secrets
Recently, because of an incredibly supportive significant other, I've started coming to terms with what it has meant in my life to be the daughter of a mother with severe mental illness, to be the sister of a woman with multiple handicaps, to be a smarter-than-average girl/woman, to be a girl/woman who had a lot of secrets, mostly family ones that she was expected to keep, to be a girl/woman who was bullied for being smart and/or less than attractive, to be a girl/woman who became "attractive" late in life and what that means in our society, and so many other things that I just thought I had to live with and didn't talk about it.
And now I've been given permission to talk about it, and think about it, and admit it to myself, and bring it to light so it can die a healthy death. And I'm terrified. I'm terrified because I'm afraid of becoming that person who is defined by her problems. I'm afraid of being seen as a victim. I'm afraid of saying "too much" (whatever that means) and being labeled. I'm afraid that those people closest to me will become annoyed by my new insight and leave me to myself and my darkness.
But now that I've started looking at and acknowledging these truths, I can't stop. They occupy my brain constantly and I'm using them to analyze everything about myself and why I do what I do. In some ways, it's nice to know. But I worry that it may become an obsession now. It has certainly affected my relationship with my family, because I can't look at any of them now without seeing the lies and the "other" faces that I want to scream at and punch and scratch at until they show the truth. So instead, I avoid them as much as I can. Because if I tell them, I won't be able to stop telling. Not until they are crying and fetal and aware.
So when I feel the burning start, I'm trying to rein it in a little and look at it from an outside perspective. I don't want to stop, because recognizing these truths is very cleansing, just like a wildfire. But also like a wildfire, a controlled burn is the best.
And now I've been given permission to talk about it, and think about it, and admit it to myself, and bring it to light so it can die a healthy death. And I'm terrified. I'm terrified because I'm afraid of becoming that person who is defined by her problems. I'm afraid of being seen as a victim. I'm afraid of saying "too much" (whatever that means) and being labeled. I'm afraid that those people closest to me will become annoyed by my new insight and leave me to myself and my darkness.
But now that I've started looking at and acknowledging these truths, I can't stop. They occupy my brain constantly and I'm using them to analyze everything about myself and why I do what I do. In some ways, it's nice to know. But I worry that it may become an obsession now. It has certainly affected my relationship with my family, because I can't look at any of them now without seeing the lies and the "other" faces that I want to scream at and punch and scratch at until they show the truth. So instead, I avoid them as much as I can. Because if I tell them, I won't be able to stop telling. Not until they are crying and fetal and aware.
So when I feel the burning start, I'm trying to rein it in a little and look at it from an outside perspective. I don't want to stop, because recognizing these truths is very cleansing, just like a wildfire. But also like a wildfire, a controlled burn is the best.
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