Hi there, I hope you're well. Thank you for being around and giving my content a chance.
First of all, a warning. In this post, I'll mention some delicate matters, as mindfully and respectfully as I can, of course, but it might still be difficult to read. If you choose to skip this one, I understand and support that decision. Our healthy boundaries are precious and it's admirable to know oneself good enough to avoid unnecessary stressors. This is something I desperately need to talk write about though, so I hope you can understand that.
This Hive account, I created with the purpose of unburdening my heart of certain matters I did not wish to associate with my real name. Anonymity seemed fair since it would finally give me some room to speak freely. I have to admit that using a different name didn't help much with the self-inflicted censorship, as I seem to be a people-pleaser and not very keen to just throw my garbage out there for anyone and everyone to deal with.
Eliza Óreiðudóttir, the character I crafted to help me discover a way forward and move on, has been my shield of sorts. To this day, I've found in this blog a cathartic space. This process, and the people I've met along the way, have inspired me to consider new, unfamiliar perspectives and points of view. I've even tried new methods and media of expression, and gone back to those I knew and had put aside, like painting. And for all of that, I'm grateful.
Today, I put the shield down and admit to being in dire need of help. Of advice. I wouldn't be doing this if I hadn't already exhausted other options. Trust me, it doesn't sit entirely well with me to openly talk about these matters, but at this point, I don't know what to do. I've tried discussing them with people close to me, but they didn't really listen, and I didn't push it. I just don't have it in me to force people to deal with things that I should be wish I was able to handle on my own.
Anyway, if you're still reading, thank you. And please allow me to ask you to do so from a place of understanding and kindness, devoid of judgment (to the best of your abilities). Also, it's okay to take some distance from the issue too. That I encourage. As for me, I will try to present the necessary facts, nothing more, with as much objectivity as I can, being as I am a part of the issue. Wish me luck.
When I was a kid, I met a monster. Not only that, but I coexisted in the same space. Surely you've heard about the kind of monster that doesn't seem to be so. The details are unnecessary, but I suffered the consequences of people close to me deliberately, or unknowingly, overlooking the fact that the person was a monster. About thirteen years ago, the monster was finally out of my life, and in all my remaining innocence and ingenuity, I thought it would be final.
And so I was left to pick up the pieces of the wreck I had come to be, which I didn't mind because the monster was no longer a threat, was he? And of course, I spent years literally looking over my shoulder, fearing that he would somehow be back. Years passed, and the feeling of being somehow safe started to settle. Sort of. Still... Even though time had diluted the terror I felt, and even though the work I did on myself helped make it all a distant nightmare, part of me stayed vigilant. Of course.
What I didn't prepare for was for my mother to let the monster back into our lives. So blindly and willingly. Three sons (two of which are his) and plenty of years of depending on everybody else later, here we are. And I can't, I just can't wrap my head around why she would do that. Answers come to mind, but they just don't seem justifiable to me. Is it the possibility of money? I can't even think about it without retching. I don't understand, and I'm certainly compelled to run the other way as fast as I can.
But this isn't even the worst part. This, I was somehow close to finding out how to deal with, complex but not complicated, something I could sort out without letting it overly affect me. At least that's where I was headed. Until today.
Some of my best traits are a double-edged sword. My brain is very good at coming up with solutions, really fast, because I spend at least 80% of the time going through all kinds of scenarios in my head. When presented with a problem, even a potential one, to find the best possible path(s) forward is an instinctive response. I've received some praise for that quirk of mine, especially when applied to work-related environments because I suggest viable solutions when other people haven't even started to think about the problem. And, since I visualize the best, the good, and the worst way before the issue is materialized, I prepare. To the best of my abilities, at least.
Another thing I'm very good at is compartmentalizing. I've had to learn how to, in order to survive. That's how most of the time I can project an image of apparent stillness, look like I'm keeping it together, whilst running intel in that brain of mine at warp speed. Some bubbles might disturb the surface, but most of the time, the people around me see only what I allow them to. Most of the time, that is. To err is human. So is to break. And if I'm honest, some things hit so close that they almost drive me to my breaking point. For example, anything that endangers, directly or indirectly, my brothers. Particularly the youngest of them, who is seven years old and not only my brother but also my godchild.
Today, I found out my mother has been leaving him alone in the apartment they live in, for some periods of time (uncertain so far). My mother doesn't have a steady job. She's not studying. She's got places to be sometimes, of course, but this can't be the logical solution. When I rack my brains, there is virtually no reason for her to leave my seven-year-old brother alone. In an apartment with a gas stove, little to no food, no working phone, a lock that is incredibly difficult to open, neighbors I don't like nor trust, and the list goes on.
To me, if you were telling me this about people completely unrelated to me, I'd say it's batshit crazy. A recipe for disaster. Something to use only as a last resort, and even then, I'm sure I'd find a better approach. Why in the world would she do that. I don't know. Am I overreacting? Maybe. Maybe not.
What's actually worse about this is the way I, the big sister, the godmother of my seven-year-old brother, the one that has come through for them so many times, found out. Just as I had to find out about my mother welcoming the monster back into our lives from someone else, which shred to almost nothing the trust I have in her, I found out about she leaving my brother alone from a text message exchange, in which she was talking about visiting the fucking monster with his sons (my two other brothers), and leaving my seven-year-old brother alone at the house to wait for them in the meantime. Pardon my French, but...
WHAT. THE. FUCK.
I feel completely and utterly lost. My confidence in the fact that my mother could ever do a better job at performing that role is destroyed. And I'm sorry, but it is what it is. Only hard facts, thousands of them accumulated over the upcoming years, could change that. And that is extremely unlikely. Going through every possible scenario, to the best of my imagination, has left me in a miserable state. Today, I can't get it together. Today, I am definitely not okay. And I have no idea of what to do.
Panic attacks are something I've been familiar with from a very young age. By now, I had been doing well at preventing them, lowering their rate of appearance, and managing them, were they to eventually circumvent my defenses. But you see, symptoms and manifestations such as crippling anxiety and panic attacks that leave you unable to breathe are like fever. They signal that something is very wrong and needs to be addressed. That much I know and understand to this day.
In the last three days, on top of an awful migraine, I've had two panic attacks. Bad ones. And yes, I've managed to snap out of it eventually, but the underlying issue is there and calling for my attention. To be honest, when I try to come up with ways of addressing this whole situation, my mind goes blank. Completely blank, which adds to the weight on my shoulders, because I'm used to coming up with solutions. At least options. And with this... I don't have anything. I don't know what to do.
Now, I'm a realist. I'm well aware of the fact that the information provided isn't nearly enough for you to suggest an appropriate course of action. I know the advice I so desperately need might not come from you. Nonetheless, if you're here, reading these words, my gratitude goes to you. Thank you for listening, for somehow contributing to lifting the weight off my shoulders. To you, but mostly to myself, I promise to stay strong, as I have done until now.
Be well and see you around. Thank you again.
