The Thoughts I Have Pondered

So, here it is something like a week since I last posted.  It isn’t that I had not wanted to post, I just couldn’t focus to write a post. This is probably the first day that my pain isn’t at around 7 or 8 if you use that pain scale I posted last week. I went from being closer to a 6 to on the verge of 9. Sitting – hurt. Standing – hurt. Laying down – hurt. Clothes – hurt. It all just fucking was painful! Then I’d wake up feeling like I was so stiff I wasn’t sure if I could move without hurting more. The thought of putting on “real clothes” made me hurt LOL.

The pain makes me unable to focus and form coherent sentences. I feel like I babble like a toddler some days when it’s like that.  But I can think. And I seem to do quite a bit of thinking.

One of the things I was thinking about was how much of my life was a lie.  I wondered if I grew up believing my life was something it wasn’t.  I wondered which parts of my life were lies. Which were truth. I wonder why now there is so much I cannot even remember, even if I look at a photo.  For instance, there is a photo of me and my mom at some semi formal gathering, a bridal shower maybe. Or a reception, I don’t know for sure. But, I have no memory of it that I can bring to mind even when I look at the photo. As I look at even now, I think maybe it was a christening judging by the ribbons we are all wearing. I don’t recall the outfit I am wearing. It troubles me some days that I can’t remember things.

I feel like my family was built on and held together by secrets. Lots and lot of secrets. Like finding out I had an older sister when I was 12. We were able to find each other, but her adoptive family wasn’t happy about it and our mother was absolutely livid that we connected. But we aren’t in contact now. Funny thing is she followed more in our mother’s footsteps than I did and she never knew her. But that’s another story.

As I have gotten older, the comments that were made in passing by people that I looked more like a sibling to my cousins (my father’s brother’s boys). They would say that one of them and myself looked so much alike, we could be twins even though he is a few years older.  It has made me wonder, on more than one occasion if we are not in fact siblings. I can remember my mother telling more than a few times that she and my father were not sharing a bed. That I was an “accident”.  My uncle used to say often that he wished he had married my mother.  But they are all gone now, yet even if they were here and I asked I would not get the truth I am sure.  The boys and I are not in contact at all. Two of them stopped speaking to me long ago. The we kept in touch sort of on and off, but have not spoken in a few years now.

I think about all the other relatives in the family, how so many have hated even despised each other over the years.  I am sure my one aunt passes away believing her in-laws hated her because she was Irish. They certainly weren’t too welcoming of her back then from the way I’ve heard it. My Grandfather did not want his children marrying anyone that wasn’t Polish. Both his sons married Irish girls.  His youngest married an Italian, but he was dead a few years by then.

And thinking about all this family crap, the secrets and the lies. Made me start to think about how ingrained some beliefs were.  How my grandfather (maternal) was seemingly racist against other nationalities, and that led to my mother similarly fashioned, she in turn tried to get me to hate too. He kept them from having friends and a life as best as he could. She in turn did the same to me. I never had a sleep over or a birthday party with friends. I didn’t go to a sleepover until I was almost 13.  Maybe I didn’t miss much. But I will never know.

I feel like I have some warped twisted truth that I believe about my family.  It makes me question everything I thought to be true at some point in my life.  I don’t know what I believe any more.

As look over what I have written, it all seems very rambling and confusing a bit. But that’s what happens when I think about this shit. My thoughts run off in a million different directions and I end up usually more confused and unsure of everything than when I started out.

I don’t know if I am trying to understand it all, if I am searching for answers that I will not find, or both.


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