Day 26 Last time i talked to my mum

The last time i talked to my dad was a few days ago, yelling at his ghost in my mind, that has been a ghost for about eighteen years.

The last time I talked to my mum was about two hours ago, on the couch, weeping about my difficulties coping with my sister who struggles with some kind of mental illness that includes paranoia. She talks of husbands 'in the spirit' and relationships 'in the spirit' and believes that the cars passing by are people who are following her. This state of mind does not seem to affect her. It does me. I look at her and wish I had a sister that was well adjusted, and living with her in this house, with my mother who struggles with being empathetic and telling when she is emotionally aggressive, is hard.

,My mother listened to me, then calmed me down, and said something about telling my sister's doctor, which scared me because doctors only mean more medicine and their medicines have never helped my sister. I felt myself start to get defensive and I told her i regretted telling her. Before launching into a shouting match, which is what usually happens, instead i sunk into hurt. I told I would not like her to, and I could feel the sadness all over me.

There's a lot of sadness in my life. Past sadness, current sadness; sadness I can't escape. Literally, physically. It's there in the morning, all day, and when I sleep. My sister's state of mind makes me sad, and afraid, and very sad. My mother's lack of empathy makes me afraid and sad for the lack of a mother- daughter connection we don't have and might never have.

But talking to her today, was like a last resort. After listening to my sister talk about waiting for some spirit called Jonathan to come for her to go on a walk with her, i broke down in my room, weeping for her mind, then soothing myself. It wasn't totally working so I went to my mother who actually listened and made me feel better.

I prayed about this to God, and felt relief, and felt like the devil heard me and thought my sister should come to my room and drill me on these spirits and how real they are, and how its not paranoia and how the volume on her laptop is changed by this so called spiritual friend of hers, and as she spoke, I tuned into my feelings and clear as day I heard a voice say, "Listening to this is painful to me,"

And so unlike other times when I usually just look at her and nod, and have anxiety spike, I got tears in my eyes. Tears for my sister that was not fully 'present' tears at being placed in this fucked up family, tears of helplessness, and tears of my own suffering as a result of the thoughts I was having.

I'd say that was progress. Allowing myself to cry about it. Usually I'm in a panic or afraid, but all I did was just cry and cry and cry, and pray, and cry some more. My sister looked at me and said sorry for my tears, and I nodded, and wept some more. She stood there and just stared at me, and I knew she did not understand why I was crying. This was so real and normal to her. Why would i cry?

But cry I did. I sincerely hope God creates a way out of this never ending sadness. Either through internal reservoirs of strength or a source of income that allows me to live somewhere else. But at least today I accepted the feelings of sadness, and let them be there.