Sizzler Friday

Figuring things out is an odd phenomenon.  In school, when you figure out an algebra problem, you're slightly relieved, while, slightly anxious to find out if you're right.  When your cell phone dies so you no longer have GPS while driving through the mountains, alone, for the first time, and you find your way to the cabin on your own, you feel like you can figure anything out.

When you figure out that your entire family suffers from mental illness, ranging from depression and anxiety, to schizophrenia, time stands still.  When you deductively realize your own mother was never diagnosed with an active eating disorder, or anxiety, or depression for her entire life, makes you really wonder who you are and where you come from.

My mom wasn't well.  Despite the multiple cancers that tried to take her life, and the heart disease that succeeded at the task; she had other ailments that were never diagnosed or treated.  Unfortunately, I don't have many memories of my mother in the early part of my life, but I have many, many pictures that show how underweight she was for years.  I remember she would never eat dinner with the family except for Friday nights, the single night of the week we went out to eat as a family.  And every single Friday night after getting home from the restaurant, I remember my mom being sick, immediately, in the bathroom.  In pictures, she looked hollowed out, and pale.  She was pencil thin and didn't look healthy.

Aside from that, I remember my house dark.  A constant smokey, unlit area, growing up.  The window blinds were never drawn.  The doors always closed.  Unless it was a holiday, nobody came in, and it never lightened up.  I realize, in hindsight, the dark and smokey house was a direct example of how my mom was feeling inside.  I have no idea to the depth of the depression, but, in hindsight,  she showed all of the text book signs.  Not to mention, the dysfunctional relationship between her and my dad only gave more signals to us on the outside.

It is relieving that I'm not alone with these issues, however, it's frustrating to have watched so many disorders, only on one side of the family, go undiagnosed further, even, than just the deprivation of my mom's health, but also in the denial, ignorance, and ill-prepared state of my own issues.

I'm not the only daughter of my mother's who's demonstrated blatant signs of an eating disorder, nor do I think I'm the only one still struggling.  I can guarantee I'm one of five surviving children of my mother's who battles depression constantly, and my sister who has passed would still be if she were alive.  I am nearly positive I'm not the only child who battles anxiety, especially as I watch my nephew repeatedly pull at his ear lobe, a habit I have when I'm anxious. Unfortunately he can't wear big earrings to hide the rubbings.

In the wake of my Aunt's passing and funeral last week, with the addition of returning to my childhood home today, I'm more aware than ever of my family's, mine, and even my dad's issues.  My dad suffers too.  Moreso, now that he's battling his alcoholism by remaining sober, as well as trying to deal with my mom's passing.  I see him displaying all of the signs of depression as well, different than before, because I know he's always been battling.  But definitely, a more raw and uncovered depression.

In that, I feel, as the baby of a big family, a sense of let down. Shouldn't I know what I'm up to bat with genetically??  Shouldn't I know what to look out for without having to study to be a psychologist??  Shouldn't I know how to teach my children how to deal with at least half of the battles that they will face growing up??  I'm mad about it.  I'm sad about it.  I miss my mom.  I want to change things and make a difference.

In that, I am studying to be a psychologist.  I am learning things that are shedding light on the distant memories I have.  I am learning new things that I had no idea other people dealt with.  I am learning about things of which I had no idea existed.  Aside from my feelings of being lied to, in a sense, I feel optimistic that I might be more aware and truly be able to help other people who suffer from the wide array of mental illness affecting so many.  I'm so sad my mother battled so much alone, but I thank her for giving me the signs to see it for myself in my own battles.  My mom was so amazing, and I'm still surprised by her amazing presence even after she's gone.