I’ve become so accustomed to the quiet that noise feels painful. I learned that I sure am an introvert and I fully embrace this. I can enjoy company or social interaction more knowing that I can reclaim my peaceful household again. It seems like I cannot get enough of the quiet. Strange because my sister, Jenna, is the same. She speaks quietly and keeps the lights on in her home dim. Even her kids are quiet.
I know that my sister Jenna and I will never fully recover. I know that our wiring will always be a bit off. Almost everything my mother said was a lie. She lied about her sisters making problems with her, she lied to my father and she lied to my sisters and I. All along, it was her that was creating cycle of never ending problems. I know she broke Jenna’s heart. Jenna isolates herself from anyone whose not her husband and kids. She has great difficulty trusting me in the slightest way.
I was looking at family photos with my younger daughter yesterday when I came across a photo of my mom and me five years ago. My joyful mood came to a screeching halt. My mother had a hard, cold and cruel look on her face. Her nostrils are flared out and she has that maniac look in her eyes. I shuddered and closed my eyes. I just want to forget I thought. It upsets me how she still has an effect on me. All happiness evaporates at the sight and thought of her. Anytime I see her picture, I revert back to being a child and then to a distraught suicidal teenager, then to a frightened young lady who tried so hard to stay small when around so she wouldn’t feel the need to lash out in rage at me. So, I hit the delete button and watched her be placed in the trash can. There I thought, that’s where you belong.