Ice Cream and Crying

 I don’t really want to get into what’s happening right now. The storm hasn’t passed and the blubbering that happens when I’m ravaged by emotion makes for something too incomprehensible to clarify for others. Just know that I always thought ice cream and crying was some bullshit that TV and movies invented that doesn’t work (like that weird thing where someone dies and they push the eyelids closed; I tried that with my dog after he died and they don’t close like that, at least not right away. I didn’t try for hours to see if that changed) but, ahem… it works. Even when it’s some shitty keto diet coffee chip ice cream because the nearby store doesn’t carry my Haagen Dazs brand coffee. I didn’t cry until I couldn’t breathe, if only because it’s really hard to eat when you can’t see the spoon.

My cats are worried about me too. They’re following more closely than usual. They can probably feel my higher than usual anxiety. They’re not cuddling or anything but they’ve been keeping me in view all day. When I went to the store, they were right at the door when I came back so I know they waited there the whole time. She-Ra always does it but Seven was there today too.

I’m going to try to explain the facts, sans emotional blubbering. I suspected my sister started using again. Midweek, she came home, talking more rapid than usual. Dad says alcohol but I know better. I can always smell alcohol on her and she’s been avoiding it because she’s on a diet for her liver, which is possibly cirrhotic. Anxiety has been high around here for months, between Dad’s constant restless bitching and my sister going back to work and the boys going back to school, things are changing a lot, maybe too much, and I’ve been trying too hard to be the glue that can’t possibly hold it all together. So I’ve been gravitating back to just trying to hold it together for me and the boys, just hoping I can keep them out of all the bullshit. I want so badly for them to rise above it and be so much better than this.

And that’s where I have to stop because I always get choked up worrying about them. Look, I really don’t know if they know how bad things are. They can probably feel it more than they’re letting on but I really don’t want it to touch them. I hope I can even give them what they need to get out and never look back. Not even for me. Which means I’ve never been expecting an award for doing this, or any repayment for good deeds either. It’s okay to just slip back into the muck as long as I can get them the hell out of it.

I know that sounds bleak but I haven’t given up on me either. I still hope and tread water too, trying to pull my own life together against the odds. But if that means holding my breath and going under to make sure my nephews don’t sink too, that’s where I have to be right now. I just can’t soar high and think they’ll be okay until I can come back for them. There isn’t any leeway for them if I look away for a moment. I can’t trust anyone to put them first. I can’t let them ever think for one moment that they’re in this alone. I’ve been there and even as an adult, it still traumatizes me.

But that’s ultimately why I’m a bleeding-heart liberal. I know how bitter and terrified and bleak it is to be left alone in hell. We can do better for other people. Other people don’t have to suffer just because we did or ‘that’s just the way it is’. That’s not a world I want future generations will ever think of as normal. It’s not normal. I know there are people who put their kids first, families who didn’t abandon them. We can’t sit around and fucking normalize abuse and trauma and pretend like being crippled is just the way we should all be. It’s ‘life is unfair’ when things are bad for someone else and ‘it’s only fair’ when we’re the ones disadvantaged. I care because someone has to. Being a selfish asshole is never okay. 

So… eat ice cream and cry sometimes. I thought I was on the verge of a panic attack or maybe a heart attack but that weight has lifted. Somewhat. I’m at the crux of situations that could get much worse. But all the more reason to start self-care now. When I absolutely have to step in, I know I’m the last resort so I can’t fail. If I make that weight too heavy, I’ll fail too. This isn’t about a prize at the end. My burdens won’t just fall away as I ride a rainbow into utopia. I could suddenly make a million in book sales and it doesn’t change that I’ve got a dysfunctional family and nephews I’m trying to keep well above it. Money just doesn’t change all the pain and challenges. It will never be enough glue to keep the ship afloat. I want to be successful but I’m also very damaged. Being rich and famous won’t make people nicer. People will still be selfish. But damned if I don’t keep looking for those niches, those little pockets of air, to take one long cleansing breath before diving into murky waters again.

Keep. It. Together. Ever wondered why I use the name Kita sometimes? Keep It Together, Always. I can unravel a bit but I’ve gotta gather it up and keep pushing on.