I'm not sure if it was because I was numb (emotional) before, just not feeling anything, or if it was because I had myself surrounded by a fortress of thick brick walls. Whatever the case may be I want to go back to that, to not feeling or whatever protection I had built up around me.

Growing up in the alcoholic family that I did, I learned quickly to keep my mouth shut and my feelings inside. I learned that sharing those feelings or asking for something I needed emotionally, would only result in getting yelled at. I learned to stuff my feelings inside, hide the hurt and pain and act like everything was okay. Everything wasn't okay but I was dealing. I wasn't feeling but that was okay because I wasn't feeling the hurt.

Maybe it was the counseling and working through my diagnosis that broke down my walls. In order to work through my diagnosis I had to be able to feel my emotions. I had to be able to let myself get upset, cry, be angry, and the thousand other feelings I had as a result of my diagnosis.

Opening myself up to deal with the diagnosis, I think really meant opening up entirely. Not exactly something I realized at the time but I'm realizing that now. The memories, the feelings, and everything I needed that I had stuffed down deep inside was and is now free to come out. And boy did it come out or at least up. Everything I had stuff down, tried to forget and hidden is coming out. I'm feeling it all now. Honestly, it doesn't feel good at all, it feels horrible. I want it all to go away, stuff it back down inside. Maybe I'm not as ready to deal with all of this as I thought I was.

Scattered Pieces

I feel so all over the place, my thoughts are spread out all over the place and can't keep them straight. It's almost as if a tornado has ripped through my life, picking up my thoughts and sprinkling them everywhere leaving a trail of destruction and confusion.

I've tried so hard to be the daughter that you wanted me to be. Long ago I realized I will never be the daughter you have dreamed up in your mind. No matter what I do nothing ever seems to be good enough for you and no matter what I'm always wrong. I filled my life with the choices you wanted me to make, they never quite did feel right. But I made them with the hopes that if I made those choices you'd want me, accept me, or love me. I never felt the love I needed from you.

I never did get what I needed from you and I've spent so much time blaming you for that, at least I think. I'm learning that it wasn't something you could give me but that's still hard to grasp. Mostly because I've watched you give my brother what you couldn't give me. How could you give to him and not to me? And now you are dangling wanting to be there in front of my face only to keep ripping it away. I'm not sure why I keep falling for this.

To make up for not having you, I got attached to other people in my life...trying to fill this void I have. And while yes it has helped a bit, it still hurts like hell that my own mother can't be there for me. Even more so it hurts because I don't want you there anymore. I'm done letting myself be hurt by you. I've been hurt enough, I have a lifetime of hurt and pain. I've been broken and feel broken in so many ways. I have all of these feelings yet I feel so extremely empty. Wishing I could hit the rewind button and step out of the tornado's path.

If there's no cure, does it ever end?

A week ago today I attended my first Al-Anon meeting which turned into my second because I stayed for the meeting that followed the one I went to. A couple days later I attended my third. Then again today I attended the beginners meeting that I thought would be a good starting point for me. Again, I attended the meeting that followed. Even though I've only shared once in the five meetings that I've attended now, I'm learning a lot. It's somewhat comforting knowing that I'm not alone in this journey and that others have been there before me. Although I would never wish upon anyone what I've gone through. As I continue to listen, learn, and process what I'm hearing I know that eventually this will get easier and that this will help.

But there's one thing, I've heard and continue to hear, the explanation "It's the disease." I've thought about that.

It was the disease when I was 10 and my mom decided to load me and my friend in a car and drive to the liquor store. I didn't know until she came back to the car with the bottle wrapped in the brown paper and started tossing things into the backseat that she was drunk. This was the first time I remember her being drunk...consequently it was the day after I graduated from the DARE (Drug and Alcohol Resistance Education program) at my elementary school.

It's possible that she had been drinking long before that first time I noticed. I may not have noticed at this point in time at all, if it hadn't been for the DARE program I went through.

I don't remember much from that point on until I was 12, I don't know if the drinking stopped for a couple of years or if I just ignored it. Her drinking got worse and I soon came to realize that the bottle would always be more important than me. It was a year after that when everything seemed to go down hill. I think that year was the year she was constantly in and out of rehabs like they were carnival rides. I remember the summer before I started 8th grade, my brother and I were sent to Maine to live with my dad's sister and her family because my mom was going into yet another rehab. That year when we went back to school my mom was in rehab. She was fine for a bit after she came back that time but then she kept slipping. The slip that hurt the most was the time I came home from school that year on my birthday. My brother and I had been locked out of the house and she was passed out. When we finally got in the house I sent my brother to the basement with the family dog and his homework. I proceeded to try to straighten out the house and get in touch with my dad while my mother threw up all over the place. I tried to ignore that my birthday present was thrown on the floor like she hadn't even thought to wrap it. Happy Birthday to me! That was the disease.

She went into rehab a couple more times after that and finally got sober. She still wasn't a parent. Her actions are still the same as they were when she was drinking.

Was it the disease when she told me to grow up and deal with the MS on my own? A little over a year after my diagnosis, I decided to switch specialists because I wasn't functioning on the medication for the MS and my current doctor wouldn't take me off it. Was it the disease when she told me that there was nothing that the doctor would be able to do for me? There are so many more moments I can recall...were those all the disease?

I guess I'm wondering do her actions every stop coming from the disease? Does she ever start owning up to the actions she makes as her own and not those of the disease?

The Decision Is Yours

You have the choice to live the life you want, it's all in the decisions you make. I believe that you have no one but yourself to blame for the course your life takes.

Some may say or think that my actions are harsh and mean but I'm just protecting myself against the decisions someone else made. The non-existent relationship that I have with my mother is not my fault, it's hers because of the decisions she made. She made the decision to drink till she was drunk and slurring her words. No one forced her, no one forced the bottle into her hand and down her throat. She drove herself to the liquor store and she bought the alcohol herself. She made that decision. With that decision, she consequently made the decision to be less of a parent.

I remember being 13 freaking out because when I went to the bathroom there was blood in my underwear. I was scared, confused and I was unsure of what was going on. Finally, I realized that it was my period and that I had nothing to be worried about. But I also remember calling for my mom to ask her what was going on. I remember her brushing me off, yelling to me asking "Jess, is this important?" I said yes, then she asked if it was really important. I said no because in that moment I realized that the bottle was more important to her than I was.

I didn't make any of those decisions, yes I made some but mainly they were her decisions. I'm done beating myself up for something that is out of my control. I'm done beating myself up because of the decisions that someone else made. I can't undo it, I can't change it but I can move forward with my own life. I can make things better for myself.