The positivity of hate

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For 11 years I have seen my sister as a victim of circumstance. Things that happened to her. Things that were out of her control. For 11 years the feeling of anger, betrayal and hatred were buried deep inside me, where they would allow me to paint my world with tinges of red, black and putrid yellow. Of course I didn't know it. Not then. Not 11 years ago, 5 years ago. 2 years ago. 6mths ago. 

Then it passed over me. I was lying in bed, my wife was exhausted. Her breathing laboured as she too has reached the end of the emotional pool that is it possible to reach. There is nothing left. I saw her stressed and recalled the support and efforts she has made for me, my family, since my sisters death by suicide in May 2015. 

As it passed over me, I thought the people who gave up, who stopped coming, who didn't want to be around a house of grief and sorrow. Deep, inexplicable grief is not easy to sit with for anyone. It's a lonely place. I thought about the price my dad paid, my mum paid, my eldest sister paid, and her husband, whose birthday it was on that she chose to take her own life. 

It made me angry. It made me hate her. She moved in that instant from a victim to a person who had agency and made choices, deliberate choices that were designed to damage and hurt. Yes, she, like my eldest sister and I had a dreadful upbringing. She had faced trauma and loss at a young age that people should not have to face, are not equipped to face, the closer she got to her dream, the further away it got, until in the end, she had to end the race. 

Grief is a very odd and invisible thing. You can't see where you are in it, what you will feel, when you will feel it or how it will feel. I don't feel guilt for my anger and hatred channelled towards our middle sister. I see it as a reflection on how I see myself; an agent, with choice, that doesn't need to adhere to the statistics, the research that says having pretty much every childhood trauma (ACE) means you'll end up in the same way. 

As I progress through trauma, mixed with complex and enmeshed grief, the subtle shifts and changes that are happening inside, beneath my conscious understanding are illuminating the next step forward. This week has contained more steps than my mind can process and it's been very difficult. My bloody-minded steadfastness to keep going in the face of deeper and deeper pain, disassociation, risk of relationship breakdown, loss of self. It is what it takes. There is nothing left. No road back. It's forward or not. 

My last thought. The harder it gets, the closer you are. The deeper work is saved for a time when you have the capacity to deal with feelings. Anger and hate are two of those. If it wasn't hard, then you'd not be growing. Take the time to heal. Trust your body. It knows best. And accept it's fucking crap. 

 

 

 

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