We were never meant to survive

I reread the first 3 Darcey Steinke novels a few weeks ago and then purchased the last one and her memoir.

I really relate to her since we both grew up in fundamentalist homes and have since "gone astray". The memoir started out good but I was disappointed with the ending. It seemed rushed and unfinished. But one thing I did get from it was that I need to change my ways around my ex. I have been very angry towards him lately, moving backwards. I think it's because of the bankruptcy. It's just never something I ever saw myself doing. It unhinged me.

I saw in this memoir that regardless of what each parent does, they both have their own points of view, and the kids all have theirs.

Holding onto my anger won't help my kids or me, and will only keep me in this same bitter place forever.

My grandma is nearly dead. It seems we are just all waiting now for the inevitable to happen. It is sad and painful. I seem to be almost in a daze, getting lost going places that I have been a million times.

Yesterday she was so out of it. Her face had turned gray and my crazy aunt from Texas had decided to put makeup on her. She looked like a ridiculous clown. Her bald head covered by a pink hat and black eye brows painted above her eyes with a smudge of mis-colored rouge over her cheeks. I preferred seeing her gray. It was better than haphazardly hiding what we all know is about to happen.

My aunt had made turkey that looked undercooked to me. I didn't say anything but declined to eat. My grandmother wouldn't eat the turkey either. She kept looking at the clock and saying it hadn't cooked long enough. Everyone else was drunk except for my mom and me so they didn't seem to notice. They all acted like my grandma was nuts, but I told her I thought it needed more time too. My uncle had given up feeding her and told me to do it so I transferred most of her food to my moms plate. She asked me if I could lie. I realized I could, for her.

I'm worried that this death will tear apart the relationship that my mom and I had finally come to terms with. Alcoholism seems to destroy everything. There is such an insane pull to it.

My Mormon uncle who had been sober almost 20 years had started drinking again. I have reconnected with my cousin lately but had not realized that we had both married alcoholics. It is crazy that alcoholism is so damned secretive - even in families that should know better. We could have been helping each other all these years. Instead, we both held our shame privately, always pretending that our lives were just so. No wonder her daughter and my son, who are only 2 weeks apart, had such an instant connection.

It's almost like a strange destiny we were both pulled towards. All the blame I have been feeling towards myself sort of dissipated when I heard this. I suppose you are pulled toward what you know.

And in knowing this I realized that all of my family is pulled this direction and so is my ex.

And despite all the things I am angry about, it is only because my ex texted me out of the blue yesterday and offered to take the kids - that I could be there for these last moments.

My uncle is recently divorced and is already talking about getting remarried. I asked him and the rest of my family sitting around the table out back - does anyone in our family ever have good relationships? Is anyone or was anyone ever happily married? Only one person - ever - my cousin Tina.

My grandma has been telling him and me both not to get remarried. She keeps telling me not to have more children. She says it urgently, nearly every time I see her. I keep thinking of the Audre Lorde poem, A Litany for Survival.

For those of us who live at the shoreline
standing upon the constant edges of decision
crucial and alone
for those of us who cannot indulge
the passing dreams of choice
who love in doorways coming and going
in the hours between dawns
looking inward and outward
at once before and after
seeking a now that can breed
futures
like bread in our children's mouths
so their dreams will not reflect
the death of ours:

For those of us
who were imprinted with fear
like a faint line in the center of our foreheads
learning to be afraid with our mother's milk
for by this weapon
this illusion of some safety to be found
the heavy-footed hoped to silence us
For all of us
this instant and this triumph
We were never meant to survive.

And when the sun rises we are afraid
it might not remain
when the sun sets we are afraid
it might not rise in the morning
when our stomachs are full we are afraid
of indigestion
when our stomachs are empty we are afraid
we may never eat again
when we are loved we are afraid
love will vanish
when we are alone we are afraid
love will never return
and when we speak
we are afraid our words will not be heard
nor welcomed
but when we are silent
we are still afraid

So it is better to speak
remembering
we were never meant to survive



How especially true for those of us born into alcoholic families...we were never meant to survive.