Family Secrets

In a hushed whisper I pace barefoot over the grass that feels like mud beneath my feet, I find myself unthrottling a part of me that I rarely acknowledge. “I hate her. If I could erase her existence, I would.”

The words escape me, a venting of emotions that startles even myself – reminiscent of that one heated argument when I bent my ex’s laptop beyond repair. Of course, that impulsive act of harm was just a fantasy, a momentary eruption of frustration after witnessing yet another unjust act by a family member who shamelessly claimed something that belonged to my grandmother after her passing.

Sometimes, I wonder what kind of person I would be if I hadn’t chosen the path of a mental health counselor. Especially in these challenging moments, that persistent voice that urges calm and restraint can be incredibly unwelcoming. And don’t even get me started on the self-help remedies that get tossed around, like a tarot card reader conjuring solutions from thin air – the mere thought makes me want to set everything ablaze.

Yet, despite my best efforts, I can’t disentangle myself from that tumultuous part of who I am. So, as I strive to find equilibrium, I’m also learning to appreciate the value of venting – of flooring the gas pedal, feeling the tires grip the road, and the thrill of navigating twists and turns. The anger still simmers within me – anger over my aunt’s audacity to claim what’s not hers, to withhold our grandmother’s possessions from my brother, to deceitfully seize power of attorney, and defy my grandmother’s last wishes by attempting to cut my brother and me from the will.

It’s maddening.

And then, like a beacon of reason, my Dad’s voice breaks through, reminding me, “Money has a way of turning people into strangers, especially in situations like this.” He should know, with his extensive four-decade career in banking.

So, I turn to this blank page, my safe haven, and I let my thoughts flow like arrows released from a bow.

By the way, did you know that homicidal thoughts are more common than we might think? I did some research on this – it’s oddly reassuring. And don’t worry, I know that even if I were to entertain the idea of wrapping my hands around my aunt’s neck, it wouldn’t untangle this web of chaos. Or would it, hehehe.

But enough of that, because in a relaxing shower, a different thought flexed its way into my mind: “What if she stumbles upon these words?” It’s a thought that makes me pause. As much as I desire her to comprehend the depth of my frustration with her, I also want her to recognize that in my eyes, she was once perfect. The ultimate aunt who whisked me around on that old three-wheeler, stayed up into the late hours engaging in conversations with my teenage self, all giddy with adolescent crushes. Her caring nature always shone through.

Life, as I’ve come to learn, is far from straightforward. It’s messy, tangled, and intricate. I’m acutely aware that her world was torn apart by the deaths of my mother – her beloved sister – and my grandfather – her very own father. Their passing seemed to shatter her more profoundly than anyone else. She turned to the embrace of painkillers and alcohol, seeking refuge from the brutal blows of reality.

So, when the time comes and I see her again, I’ll likely find myself wrapping my arms around her in a tight embrace. We’ll catch up on the tales of our recent journey to Georgia, and her latest granddaughter.

Life is indeed a complex tapestry of emotions and connections.

With love, Jaclynn