Self Preservation

Self Preservation

It is difficult to explain the how's and why's of the strange habits of adults who grew up in aggressive, violent or abusive homes. Our seemingly aggressive attitude to what other's think are slight things, especially personal space. Our defence is offence and sometimes, no matter the years, the healing, the work we are constantly doing to heal ourselves; something wild and fierce erupts from us.It is something primal. Yet something I have been ashamed of, and shamed by other's for doing.
I have a strong sense of duty as well as a deep well of kindness. From family to friends we have had several people live with us, even when we had nothing.
I will give what I can to help others all the day long. I made myself sick running around the country caring for the spiritual and otherwise needs of others.
It took almost dying, I had people calling and asking for my help in A&E (ER) to wake me up to the healing I needed and also deserved. That I had to give to myself if I wanted to live.
I have had a lot of surprised eyebrows and sidelong looks or raging silence from people who have known me a long time and were shocked I didn't rush to my dying mother's bedside.
In truth, I surprised me too.
When my Nanna (my father's mother) was dying in hospital, I was the only one in the family to go and visit. I washed she unconscious face and hands. I sat with her. I opened the door for her to pass over.
Yet every fiber of my being simply refused to allow me move. I was peaceful ad calm, yet I did desire to do the same as I did for my Nanna. Yet any attempt to try and go there, even speaking with my sister on the phone left me with a cold sickly feeling of dread. I was aware that being there (I tried to attribute this to my sister presence but I don't know if that is a rationalisation) would harm me deeply, maybe even cause my death.
After I finally got the text message that my mother had passed the dread stopped. Then I felt guilty and confused. I deal with the unexplained all the time but I couldn't find the words.
My sister began her punishment of me by refusing all access to the funeral, in fact any details about it at all. I see now it was her last weapon.
Everyone was outraged. I was hurt. Which was the point of course.
Comfort came, as it always does, from strange places too. An author whom I had connected to on facebook sent me one of his many books.
I am not finished yet, nearly though, it has already lifted such man-made weights like guilt and fear from me.
I was not "being selfish" or "uncaring", I was heeding my need to stay alive. It was self-preservation and I do not need to feel any guilt or carry the weight of other expectations. I do not need to hurt myself there are plenty of ego driven drama makers who would love to do it for me.
Unfortunately they have no sway, and no oxygen from me any more.

 Bright Blessings