Taking my space

I’m on a break from a big relationship right now. I’m taking a break from my family. I was raised the youngest in a big family. Always busy. Always on the go. The problem with that though is things fall through the cracks and get missed. Most of this story I’ll save for another time and get to the point of this post. In a nutshell, I carry a large amount of baggage from childhood, a lot of which is connected somehow to my family and my upbringing. Let’s be honest here: who doesn’t? However, my baggage is pretty painful and an expert psychoanalyst might love to get their hands on my family and I! Okay, back to the point. I’m on a break from my family. A sort of trial separation.

Early this year I had a horrible episode that eventually landed me in the hospital for Intensive Outpatient (imagine all of the rehab movies you’ve seen, but they go home at the end of the day and on the weekends with the commitment to stay clean and sober while in the program). I was dealing with all of the darkest parts of depression: crying, unable to get out of bed, self harm urges, and more. I probably should have been in the ER any number of times, but one bad experience with the ER staff is one too many for people like me. I let my psychiatrist admit me because I knew I was on the edge of being safe and I was afraid of where this episode was taking me. I’ve survived enough intentional overdoses to know how I end up there. The program was good and I learned a lot. Taking a break from my regular life to focus on my health was a good choice. It has always been a good choice!

However, when I shared that I was in the hospital with one of my siblings, I was surprised at the reaction. With this person I usually experience at least some empathy; a showing that they are trying. That is not what I received that day. I heard they did not understand why I could not simply CHOOSE to do or feel something different. How could I not decide to get out of bed, shower, brush my teeth, and go to work like any other adult? How could I not just decide to not feel sad? It felt like they were frustrated with me because they could not understand how I was sick. (This sibling also happens to work in the medical field, which is why I was so surprised by this scenario.)

A few months went by and my recovery progressed, but very slowly. (I am leaving many things out here that are topics for another day.) Eventually I hit another bump and I decided to try asking my estranged parent for help. There is a reason I have been estranged from this parent my entire adult life. This parent did not (and never has) respect my privacy, or me, and proceeded to tell my siblings that I reached out for help. I was at my lowest, and I took a big risk, then paid dearly for it. Some of my siblings then bad mouthed me to other family members and some stopped responding to my messages. It was becoming clear that any empathy or support I dreamed of getting from them was never going to come.

All I’ve wanted, all the little girl in me has ever wanted, was the love and support of my siblings and my family. All I’ve wanted is to feel loved. Is that too much to ask of a persons family? Maybe it is. So about 6 weeks ago I made the conscious choice to take space away from my siblings. I stopped texting them to share recipes I’m making they might like, and sharing pictures of my hikes in the family massage. I stopped responding to anything in group chats, and sometimes even deleted the thread. I simply could not bear to see what they were up to or how one of them was in the same hiking spots I was at a few days/weeks earlier. Some of these things would trigger previous difficult experiences with them that would cause me more pain. The other painful part is I am not only taking space from my siblings, but also my nieces and nephews who are innocent in all of this, whom I love dearly.

The choice I have made is constantly difficult and painful. Sometimes I need to cry. In a way, I am grieving. I know it’s time to stop fighting what is clear: my siblings cannot process my multitude of invisible illnesses and the amount of pain I live with daily. It’s time I pause and feel so I can find a different way forward, hopefully with a way to keep them in my life without causing me pain. I don’t know how that might look right now since most of us live in close proximity to each other and we all spend time with our other supportive parent. I simply don’t know how I can be “a family” with them when we have to share the same space.

For now, I am going to grieve. I am going to feel my feelings when they come up, cry if I need to, then gently send them on their way. I am going to keep talking to my therapist and contemplate different therapeutical skills I’ve learned in treatment. I am going to give myself the space I need to be myself and feel safe. I am going to hold this invisible boundary until I am ready to change it. This is my choice. This is my right. I deserve to feel safe and respected. I do not need to be talked down to or hurt with words and actions of others. I deserve to be truly me, without explanation. I deserve love.

(That last phrase is definitely a hard one for me!)

And you do, too.