The battle

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Exulansis: The tendency to stop talking about an experience which nobody can relate to.

I’ve tried. So many times I’ve tried. The following post is about all the things I grew up with that people just can’t understand.

Feeling crazy. Growing up my parents would say things and totally contradict themselves with body language. My dad saying that “everything is fine” while stomping around the house and slamming doors so hard that they break. Or my mother telling me to fetch something while pointing in the wrong direction of what I have to fetch. Yea, it seems silly. Try 24 years of that. Try growing up like that. When people contradict themselves you have to discard one of the valid things you perceive for you to understand. So, perfectly fine people slam doors and break things, or I can’t believe most of the things my father tells me.

Isolation. I maybe spoke a minute to my sister yesterday. It was her birthday. My mother, maybe about 20 minutes in the entire week. My father about the same. We all live in the same house. I speak more to my parrot, or talk to my nightingale over the phone. I feel like I have to do everything on my own because nobody was ever really there for me. If I want something, I have to get it for myself. I wanted love and closeness, the only thing I could not get by myself. I feel cheated out of the happy family I used to imagine us being as a child.

Loving combat. There is a certain amount of freedom and intimacy in actual fights. You actually get to do something to your opponent, and in that few moments, you come close enough to someone that you can hear their breath, feel their will and feel their bones break. Closeness I never knew for most of my lifetime in any other way.

Being immune to anger. The other day my nightingale had a bad morning, and snapped at me. I really thought she was joking. She snapped at me so bad that she felt sorry for doing that the rest of the day. I grew up with people screaming with bulging eyes, red faces and spit flying as they told me exactly how little I really meant, or how much I cost them. I used to be the only grandchild who liked my grandfather; most of the family, including the adults, were scared of him. When people yell at me know, they might as well be fighting the weather.

Having very little fear. If your father threatens to burn the house down on you and your family while you sleep, and you see that as love, what can really scare you? No spider is as scary as a dad with a .45 threatening to blow his own brains out in the car while driving. I saw monsters when I was little. My mother’s reply to that? It doesn’t exist. go back to bed. Imagine trying to sleep with something like this looking at you:nightmare_by_ianllanas-d7upatnYes, I really did see these things as a child

So this is my attempt at explaining the things I no longer ever tell people. They usually never understand, and only one ever has tried to relate.

Havoc

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