Monday 22nd February it will be exactly one year since my sister and I stopped talking.
Part of me still misses her – sometimes not at all, sometimes it’s weird that I don’t really think about her at all. And then there are clusters of days when I can’t get her out of my head – it starts with a random dream about her and then suddenly she’s there in my reality too.
I came across this post in my Facebook newsfeed today which was so on point! (I work in a school in Hackney which means that I have East London slang tourettes 😂).
For a good six months I cried myself to sleep, and doubting that I’d made the right decision, I reconciled with my mother and I wrote to my sister and persisted in calling knowing that it would go straight to voicemail. My heart was broken from missing her.
Last month on her 27th birthday I got myself into an incredible state of panic when no matter how many times I tried to delete the reminders for her birthday from the calendar on my iPhone it kept popping back up, each time like a slap in the face.
This doesn’t feel real!
And I still haven’t figured out how to permanently delete that reminder either…….
Looking for something in my folder of bills, hospital letters and other such crap I found a birthday card from my sister’s boyfriend. It must’ve been from my 28th birthday. He and my sister have known each other since they were both 18 years old and so I’d always seen him as a brother – watching him grow up into a man and becoming part of the family.
It’s strange to think that my own boyfriend never really got the chance to do the same.
I’m not really sure how I feel anymore… about the fact that I may never speak to my family again. And it is a fact now because I’ve cut off from them completely. My sister never gave me the opportunity to try and reconcile however with my mother, although we made attempts to move forward we never really left the starting line. Actually, we did – we just moved backwards instead of forwards and passed the blame of past mistakes back and forth like a baton in a relay race. I’ve lost two of my best friends – regardless of the bad times, there were great times. Watching anything to do with the Kardashians will always remind me of chilling on the sofa with my sister while eating a naughty dessert and imagining our own family reality TV show which would be far more superior because we were actually hilarious.
Depression leaves a stain you can never seem to completely get out – no matter how much Vanish and white wine vinegar you use. It leaves a path of destruction long behind it. It hovers like a ruthless smell, a dark cloud when you look out of the window and wonder when it will pass.
When I speak to friends who have suffered depression themselves, we all concur that it does overwhelm and consume. I’m a selfish person when I’m in the dark. However, people on the outside can never understand what it’s like to be consumed by mental illness. I’m not selfish by nature – I wasn’t born that way. However, unfortunately, there is a defect within me that is triggered by certain events and no matter how many deep breaths I take and positive mantras I stick on post-it notes around my room, sometimes it does get too much.
Having a chronic illness is a heavy weight to bear in its own right. When you combine that with a dark past it’s no wonder that it’s incredibly hard to walk.
I guess some people just get too tired of holding your hand which is why I know that I made the right decision in separating myself from them.
Even if it is for life.