You can run, but it follows you
Not having the tools to deal with a loss, I continued to pretend to live a normal life. In my house, emotions were forbidden. I never knew my father. Mother said they divorced before I was born. She remarried when I was nine and a year later my brother was born. Trouble he is, but I love that kid.
It was all the family I knew, so when I heard that my father was killed (I was 15) it didn't phase me. I didn't know what I was supposed to say, feel, do. I never got to know him, that's my only regret. I don't blame my mother for choosing to keep him away, for poisoning my mind by telling me how horrible of a person he was, how could I be so stupid to believe her.
Two years later we were headed for America, the land of opportunity. I left the few friends that I had, the ones who fed and gave me a place to stay when mother had her fits of rage and kicked me out. I was going to marry a boy, it was legal to have a wedding at 17 in Ukraine. We were expecting a child, I was three months pregnant. I made a mistake of telling my mother. Long story short, the child was never born. I don't blame her, but I can't stop blaming myself. I should have removed myself from that situation. Yes, I was under 18 and had to come to America with her by law, but I couldn't get pregnant ever since.
Being in nursing school and learning to take care of pregnant and grieving patients brought on all these feelings that I thought I was lucky enough to never experience. Not a day passed by when I haven't cried myself to sleep. I couldn't concentrate on anything else. It's like the past has finally caught up with me and I couldn't run anymore. You can't bring people back.
No matter how many times my mother was talking trash about my dad, a part of me still loved him. I wish I would have had the chance to talk to him more then three times in my life, to get to know what kind of person he was, to judge for myself. A man may act a certain way toward an enraged woman, and a completely different way toward his child. I loved my child too. I blame myself for not standing up for myself and my unborn child.
God knows what they did to me when I went under anesthesia. Is it normal to grieve for someone you never met, someone who was a part of you, would have looked up to you, someone you could care for, teach the ways of the world, put your heart and soul into, protect and love no matter what? Maybe it was for the best, I had no money, but I would have made it work, young and alone in a strange country, I would make it work.
How can I all of a sudden be so struck by grief 15 years later? For the longest time I wanted it all to end but never had the guts to go through with anything. I'm just depressed and alone now. My drug of choice is food. I'm way over 200 lbs and that doesn't stop me from buying more ice cream. One day, when I pass the board exam, get my license and get back on my feet, I will work on accepting what is and changing only what I can, my reaction. I hear we can't chose feelings, but we can chose what to do about them. I hope one day I become sane and healthy, and find someone I can share my life's precious moments with who wouldn't mind adopting a couple of little ones. Is making plans for the future one of the steps to recovery?
Thanks for 'listening' to my nonsense, you are a saint. I'm in a holistic organization, and one thing I learned is that love is the only feeling we can send each other's way without needing to ask for permission. Please feel free to send some my way, I'd really appreciate it.