Thank you for your kind words. My boyfriend knows. I try my best not to worry him but last night was such an intense moment for me that I felt he wasn’t in the same room. I was wracked with grief and couldn’t stop wailing. My mother’s urn has been with me for a week before one of sisters gets her turn to be with her. And then Mama will be back to her home, where my sisters and I grew up. Her 40th day is on May 30, after that, she will be buried in a vault, underground. It’s a Catholic thing.
The first few days were okay. I talk to her, she visits my dreams. But then suddenly the sadness creeps in and these intense emotions resurface. My two best friends know, but I there ate times when I become closed off. Embarrassed, even though they encourage me to talk. I sometimes do, but mostly I tend to act okay even though I feel like dying inside.
My family’s good at burying unwanted behavior and secrets. I can never talk to them. Except to Mama. She helped me do my best to beat my mental illness. She was such a comfort. But now she’s gone. I used to be close to my sisters, but as we all grew up, there are personalities that arise that are not appreciated. They would never take my mental illness seriously. They would say “Just be positive” or “It’s all in your head” like it’s easy. But it’s not. So I pretend to be okay and level-headed. Ironically, I’m the most mature and responsible one despite being the youngest. I’m the only one that tries my best to reach my goals to make my mother’s life easier, and I didn’t get pregnant in my teens. I genuinely care about everyone, too. But that isn’t appreciated. Because I’m the youngest, no one really takes me seriously.
But there’s this deep-rooted anger. I am aware of that. Only me and my 2nd sisters left our home and had our own lives. The eldest and the 3rd remained in our parents home, with their kids. And they depended on my mom for everything. When I say everything...it’s from ironing all of their clothes 6-8 hours every single day, cooking, cleaning, driving. My mother loved them so much that she couldn’t see how my two sisters took advantage of her. The 3rd one first got COVID-19 along with her son and husband. My two sisters would never grow up. They hid it for 4 days. Then my mother took care of them. And then she got the virus. Now she’s gone forever. I warned all of them in that house. I told my sisters to isolate. To let Mama be quarantined. To wear masks and boil used utensils and plates before washing. My sisters didn’t listen. My dad thinks those two are the ones struggling but they never took the virus seriously. Not until Mama passed away. I’ve patched things up with my dad, but I can never talk to my other sisters.
If I took my mother with me, maybe she would still be alive today. Maybe. But she’s gone and I can never bring her back.
They won’t help me. When I cut myself and was put into a facility, they said I did it for attention. And spun the whole story. But I was already mentally ill and was struggling to come to grips with it.
My eldest sister’s son is bipolar and depression. He cut himself in front of her. She cried. But then when he needed to talk to her, she didn’t understand because she wasn’t depressed. “Why do I have to deal with this?” Um...because you’re his mother.
Only 3 people are aware of my struggles and I still hesitate to feel like a burden to them.
It took me a lot of courage to actually post what I wrote. Throughout my entire life I feel like no one would take me seriously or listen.
So thank you for taking the time to read what I posted here. Thank you.