Monday 13th

Maybe it's because I'm sick, brother.. it usually takes longer than this for me to break down.

...

I'm still in CanTeen, brother. I go to the odd thing now and then.
When you had the septic shock, there was so much going on for them as well, and I was left behind by everybody.
I still feel angry and upset about that. For several years I don't think I went to anything.
I didn't feel like anyone cared. Like anyone wanted to care.
Did anyone know what had happened? How it all happened?
Surely if they did they would've made more of an effort, right?
But what if they did know and just didn't bother?
Did I just slip through the cracks?
One of those people again.

Anyway.
They have this programme called "REAL". It's supposed to help you "to be Rejuventated, feel Empowered, gain Awareness, and Let Go."
I thought it was maybe something I should go on.
I have one year left. I am trying to get my shit together.
..But I don't want to talk to anyone about you.
They don't know you. They don't know anything about you.
They don't know what happened. What it was like. All of it.

I tried a couple of times years ago, you know?
It's like a stab in the heart when you tell a professional your life and they say things that you make feel even worse about what happened.
Not things like it was your fault or whatever, but.. like they're in disbelief that these things could've happened to you. That you were burdened with these things when nobody should be -let alone at the age you were forced to carry things.

You getting sick wasn't right. You getting sick twice wasn't right. You going into septic shock after you had beaten the cancer again was not right. You getting sick in that hospital past the point of return was not right.
Me being left alone at the age of ten was not right. Nor was learning to cook noodles by myself on the stove because I was sick of sandwiches. Waking up to an empty house before school, and coming home to one. Biking across town to buy groceries. Dealing with my own illnesses.
Me being second mother at sixteen was not right. Having to drop my education to take care of our brothers. Being neglected again. Slipping through all of the cracks. Not getting any help.
Coming home to an empty house after a series of mysterious texts. The neighbour telling me that everybody had left and flown up north. Nobody telling me what was going on. Nobody trying to get me up there too.
Signing up to a new school by myself, at sixteen. Having to tell the principal that I don't know when my parents will be back, I don't know when they can sign the form.
...Having to carry the entire family. Having to look after my cousins like it wasn't all killing me inside.
.......getting that stupid group text on my birthday. Saying you were gone.
Abuse from my family. Being made to feel like it was my fault. Hearing that it should have been me.
It isn't right that certain people that should know exactly what happened still don't realise.. and still don't realise how it affected me.

It isn't right that people expect me to be over it by now.

I think I need to go to this thing. I am sick of crying for you all of the time, brother.
Me crying for you less does not mean I love you less. Does not mean I miss you less.
I can't keep having all of this sitting on my shoulders and weighing me down.
It's not you weighing me down, it's the experience. It was a really really shitty one.
Everyone had this massive support network supporting them except me.
There was only one person on my side, and unfortunately she alone wasn't enough to pull me out of the giant hole I found myself in, so I let go and fell further in.

Apart from the fact that I dont want to talk to people about you, where it's held is also where your funeral was, brother.
The psychologist I saw for my anxiety would probably tell me it's the perfect place to address my issues haha!
But I'm not sure I could deal with two days out there on my own without M and without my things. My comfort zone. It's a long way out. I wouldn't be able to just go back if I had a breakdown.

I don't know what to do, brother.
If our parents were still here I would ask them to take me in and bring me back at the start and end of each day.
I feel like I could cope with that.
But they're not. I don't know who else realises that it's important enough that it'd be worth doing.

I don't want to forget you, I never will, I just want to not feel the effects from what happened every day.

✿✿✿✿✿