More Than Homesickness

[mymelancholysoul]

I don't even know where to begin; how cliche is that? Everyone has a different opinion on where a person should start at. They ask questions to which you aren't even sure the answers to. Everyone sits down and begins a circle of trust, only to have it broken when a hint of blame is passed from one person to another. 'It can't be my fault', they think, 'I did my best at raising them'. Pointing a figure of fault in their direction is almost like telling Vincent VanGogh that Starry Night needs some work. A parent assumes they made a masterpiece with the materials given, that they could not have created a person of fault and flaw. But I'm afraid many of you might be getting the wrong impression here. I do not blame my parents and how I was brought up for anything in my life. I know which mistakes are mine and how the mistakes of others effected me. No, no I would never blame another person for how I feel. Did I grow up in a loving, stable home? No. Of course I didn't. My mother was too young and too far into alcoholism to understand that raising two daughters wasn't going to be easy. So, when she blamed the life she hated on us, we took it as part of her 'condition'. "Mom is just sick, Nicole. She can't help it." My sister would say when our mother flew into one of her mentally abusive rages. Of course, neither of us could find a reason for our father and his always distant personality. You see, if he wasn't yelling at someone in the house, our father was usually at the office or upstairs. Teachers and school counselors would later associate this to why I hyper matured and was emotionally distant from the other students. I stayed quiet for years and years because I never wanted someone to blame my parents. I was the one having social difficulties, I was the one isolating myself, and I was the one who refused to participate in class not my parents. They loved me but were just under the weather. It wasn't until high school that I finally began to come out of my shell and fall into more self destructive behaviors. I was less cold and distant but every tear I shed showed a mark of weakness and for that, I had to be punished. The scars I wore around my wrists and ankles proved that I was a person of great fault. Even after the sexual assault, I blamed myself for being in the situation. I didnt have to fall asleep in a bed with a drunk man. I could have gotten up, I could have left, I could have done anything. But again my weakness of tears took over and brought no comfort when I attempted to tell my friends the situation. They too blamed me for what had happened. It wouldn't be until my senior year that I finally told my father in a letter. He never suggested I seek therapy or justice but simply told me that if I needed to get out of a situation to call him. In a way, I felt relieved that he didn't try to ask for the details. By then, you see, I had been attacked again but by someone I once cared for deeply. He took what I wrote at face value and assumed I had handled the situation on my own. But why wouldn't he? I had always been the one to handle our passed our mother, hungry brother, and dirty house. My mother was supposed to stay away from the bottle after being diagnosed with heart disease but she was fighting her own demons. I held myself together the best I could, finding comfort in self injury and poetry. My friends assumed I was alright because I never really discussed what it was really like at home. As my senior year came to a close, I finally realized that I could really come more into my own at college. I was finishing up four years with friends I loved dearly and it seemed as though life had found a safety zone. But six days before our graduation, tragedy hit with a vengance. Lauren Latham died at 7:30 in the morning on May 25th on her way to final exams. I never understood how I even came to terms with her death. I don't honestly think that I have and most say I'm not even dealing with it. But how should I react? I hurt and cry and miss her dearly but her death is still quite unreal. Maybe I am too numb at the idea of her death? I don't know. Graduation came and went, as did the summer. I was the first to leave for college and am here now. I live in Maryland but have come to Nebraska for my education. This past year or so, I finally reached a calm with my mother and have left her. I have left my friends, my sister, my nieces, my entire world. I left behind Lauren in her cold grave. I left behind trips to Dennys at two in the morning with Jon. I left behind reciting the Mummy while watching it with Katherine. I was ready for independence since age six but now I wish, I could be home. I want to be there more than any other place, despite the hell it raised in my heart and soul. I'm lossing ways to cope with these emotions and am terrified of failure. Lately, I have been having flashbacks of memories Id much rather repress. The depression I thought I could control is taking over once more. I'm not sure what to do, where to go, ect. I blame myself and am taking responsibility like I know I should but thats bringing me any comfort. My new friends think this is just a stage of homesickness but I have this feeling that there is more at work here....

[BellaDonna]

You are very intelligent and mature. You express yourself very gracefully.

 

I agree that you are "homesick"...and that things will get better with time. You know that the surroundings you grew up in were destructive.

 

While you are away it may hurt, but you will be able to grow into your own person during this process. That doesn't mean you will forget home though.

 

Even though there are a lot of bad memories, it's your family- and you clearly still love them unconditionally- so of course you miss them. It's ok to be angry with someone, yet still love and miss them.

 

My best advice would be to surround yourself with as many good people as you can. Try to keep yourself busy and learn more about who YOU are as a person. Use this opportunity away from home to grow.

 

BellaDonna