Last month, last 6 weeks, some of the worst, but not the worst, but pretty darn chewy. I lied to both my doctors last month, not intentionally, but sometimes, life throws such a curve ball that you watch it fly into the bleachers then try and forget that you gave the other team a home run while you find a new ball, hoping that a spectator doesn’t try and throw it back into the spotlight to remind you. I didn’t lie to them, I omitted an extremely important facet of my life.
So with that ball safely gone, I did the speak no evil, say no evil monkey dance. It’s not evil, it rocks my core of what I thought I know of my family for the last 40 years. I didn’t want to know, I didn’t want it to touch my life, I didn’t want to let it in, but you can’t pick your family or what they do, just like they couldn’t pick not having a crazy one.
I should know better, I do know better, instability doctors, you want to know where it came from, maybe it was the drugs, maybe it was the triggers, maybe it was the co-worker, but truly, I ricocheted like a squash ball because I found out that I have an older brother. Yes, a brother, someone that I spent the last 40 years thinking was just a friend of the family, in actuality is my brother, and my mother, has hidden this from me for the last 40 years.
So what do you do with a bomb like this, you take it like I did, pretend it never came into your consciousness and shove it so far into your internal sock drawer and hope you never hear it tick till you can absorb the ramifications. I couldn’t talk about it in therapy, I didn’t want to peel open this bandage and dig through for the shrapnel of emotions and betrayal. But now, but now, I am so shattered that one person, me, could have so much in such a short period of time implode, that I don’t even know what to do, think, see, turn, move.
I’m trying hard to drown the roar, put this out into my blog, where I don’t need to talk about it, I can release it and watch the words run down the screen. I love my mother, I love her beyond words but this exceeds my words, how could she do this? To me, to him, to my sister, my brother. He knew all along and was never allowed to tell us. This makes my last post to God seem like a Dear John letter. Dear God, my world as I knew it exploded 6 weeks ago and then again yesterday, did you think you might have wanted to tell me earlier? I have some choice words for the timing.
They say BPD is caused by trauma, exacerbated by trauma, I am not sure how much more I can take in this one frame. I wasn’t able to sleep, I haven’t left my bed, I haven’t showered, I couldn’t go to work. Coupled between the events, depression and mania of the last month, that I am sure we all know is because I deep seated this issue, and the collapse yesterday, well it’s all out in open, Pandora’s Box, a rose, thorns and all, in full bloom.
I keep thinking if I stay under the covers long enough and stay sedated it might melt away, ta-ta long lost brother, dishonest mother, disappointing Hugh, mad boss, son’s birthday. The sock drawer is full and now they’re scattered all over the floor, each ticking with its own time bomb, like a mine field, waiting for me to get out of bed and step through and not lose my limbs one by one. I think I have lost enough chunks, I’m going to take the cowardly way out, turn off the lights, stay in bed, till the world doesn’t give me a choice.
I just can’t move, I can’t talk about it. A brother? Always wanted an older brother. Surprise.