Death and Rebirthing Myself – The State of My Year

This is my answer to – Daily prompt: The State of My Year via The Daily Post

At the beginning of January I discovered that my father had died.

I had been estranged from him and the rest of my family for over ten years. In truth my father was always a stranger, so being estranged from him was no different than usual. It was more honest really.

My father never wanted to have a child. He had his reasons and they make sense. My mother decided to have a child against my father’s wishes. Her reasons for having a child do not make sense at all.

My parents never loved me. You are not allowed to admit such things in public. People always deny it, argue, even though they don’t actually know if it is true or not. Saying such a thing touches primal fears within them, so they shove their fist of denial down your throat and you are silenced from speaking your truth. It is still true. My parents did not love me, they did not love anyone, not each other and especially not themselves.

Love begins with yourself and works its way out into the world.

I did try to love my parents, but eventually I gave up. Love is not supposed to be a chore, nor is it meant to hurt you and destroy you. Loving my parents demanded of me that I sacrifice my life for theirs, that I live in a very dark and painful place, that I never shine, never have joy, never… there were a lot of nevers.

I grew up believing that I was unlovable, unable to love, that I would never be loved or be able to love in return.

I did learn to love myself, and respect myself, and one day I met another being who offered me love. This changed my entire life. It helped me to let go of the pain of the past and leap into the future. A new life opened up to me where love was fun, it uplifted me and urged me to embrace the beauty of life and of myself. I created a new life, a new reality for myself with this wonderful being and the past melted away…

Just when you think you are out they pull you back in…

I found out about my father’s death via the internet. He was briefly famous, and there was a brief obituary on a news site about his death. That was that. I felt nothing. Perplexed maybe. My father had been convinced of his immortality. I guess he was wrong. A little relieved. He had suffered from illness in his later years. I think he had suffered from illness all his life. He liked to share his pain. Generously. With everyone. I hoped he had finally found peace in the death he wished to avoid for ever. Being immortal doesn’t sound like a good thing. To be in perpetual pain, why would anyone want such a thing. Just let go.

I thought nothing more of it. Then my mother contacted me via a friend of a friend. She wanted to get her hands on his inheritance but couldn’t do it herself and needed me to do it for her. I rolled my eyes. The usual drama, the usual games, the usual shit. I had no intention of engaging in such things. It is not who I am. It is who she is. I ignored her.

Then my father’s companion of many years contacted me. This was unusual. She had to search quite hard to find me. There was an inheritance and it was all mine. Lucky me, I groaned. I was the only child. The only unwanted child who had to deal with the endless shitstorm and over the top drama of two very demented people who were like a vortex of pain and misery dragging anyone and everyone into a whirlwind of mess. This was my legacy from birth. Born into hell, the creation of two tormented souls. Two wrongs who made a… what? who? A human being who just has had enough. I’m tired. Bored of their version of reality.

Still… The stages of grief:

Denial – I wanted to ignore everyone and everything. I have my new life. My version of reality. Simple. Why mess things up by messing with what is in the past? Let go, move on… But how do you let go and move on when the people and things you are trying to let go of and move on from won’t let you go and move on.

Anger – My past became my present and future. I was furious. The dormant volcano awoke. Rage rushing like blood. Adrenalin. All the buried secrets within me came rising to the surface. I blogged like a fury about it. About my childhood. About living with malignant narcissists disguised as perfect parents. About my being used as a weapon against myself, against others. Used. A tool, not a human. A thing. A toy, played with until broken, then discarded unceremoniously. About all I had been denied, been forced to deny. So much stuff… all pouring out. Unhealthy. Slowly becoming healthy through catharsis.

Bargaining – I didn’t want to face it, but I was prompted to do so. Okay. I’ll do it not for me, but for you. But you have to help me. No. No one can help me if I don’t help myself. I’ll do it for myself, to rip the bandage off the festering wound. I decided to face it. Deal with it. Once and for all. On my terms. Finally. But before I could do so I had to go through an initiation. Get things wrong. Make mistakes. Misjudge who was a friend and who was a foe. Make promises which I later realised were bargains with the devil in humans.

Depression – Why was I doing this to myself. Was I really just programmed from birth to self-destruct until I eventually succeeded. I know that’s what my parents wanted, but it was not what I wanted even though sometimes it seemed like I did. Why did I have to be punished for being alive. I never asked for this life, it was forced upon me, so why was I being made to pay for it. I didn’t give birth to myself. I tried so damned hard to be a good person and all I got in return was shit from bad people. That wasn’t fair. Did I have to become bad to balance things out. That seemed a bit odd. Life. So tired of it, yet… every time I thought things were almost getting better… ugh! I am not looking into the abyss, I fell into it many eons ago… I am the abyss, no wonder I can’t get out of it.

Acceptance – One day… the accumulation of many days finally giving fruit to a One Day… all the pieces began to fall into place… thanks to blogging… to expressing everything I had for so long held in the silence of denial… of believing no one cared… why should anyone care… I had to… yes, I had to care and do something about it. Time to throw off years of skins which I had not properly removed, which I had carried with me, getting heavier and heavier, crushing me without my knowing what it was that was suffocating the joy and life out of me. I told myself I was happy and believed it… the mind can mimic anything… then… just accept, the rest will come as acceptance becomes something more, deeper, lasting.

It is all moving agonisingly slowly. At first I was fighting and struggling… that is my way… the only way I know to survive… it is instinctive… primal… safe yet unsafe… and… then I just relaxed into it. Let it go as slowly as it wants to. I can wait. I have been waiting all my life. I think I’m impatient, but it is a surface impatience, underneath I am made of something ancient, something which can sit by the river of life and watch, wait, contemplate. I can and I will keep going… and going… and going… until I don’t, but until then… an immovable object, an unstoppable force. At the core of me… under all the layers of me.

In conclusion…

Materially this inheritance is not worth very much. It may well end up costing me more to claim it… lawyers’ fees and such… than I will get. I might just break even. We’ll see. But in other ways it is worth more than all the material wealth in the world, it is a catalyst for a rebirth. I am giving birth to myself, claiming my life as my own in a way I never have before. I tried to do it many times in the past, but… enforced change is not real change. It is stiff, controlled, it breaks after a while and everything reverts back to how it was. Reset. Default. Real change, it is the shit which happens, a wave which lifts you up and carries you along with it whether you want to go or not, want to change or not. This time I am not the one doing it deliberately, life is doing it for me, with me agreeing that it is time. The time is now.

There is still a long way to go before my actual rebirth. I’m in gestation… growing within myself.

If I survive this year… and it is at times questionable… I am giving myself a standing ovation for Christmas. But who will be the me that gives the standing ovation and who will be the me that receives it?

A few of my other posts on this:

1/ Narcissism is the Game, and You’re It

2/ Don’t Speak Ill of the Dead

3/ La Dolce Vita? Think Twice!

4/ An Epiphany – Part 2 – Winning Versus Failing

5/ A Story Of Uranus Transiting The Eigth House

6/ A Perfect Moment

7/ It’s My Dead Father’s Birthday Today