When I found drugs and alcohol at the age of fifteen, it was at a time when the conversation of mental illness was still somewhat taboo, as far as anything less than straight-up schizophrenia, multiple-personality disorder, and things like that. In retrospect, I understand now that I have always been a person very prone to depression. I can remember writing things like, “I hate my life” and “I want to die”, upon my bedroom wall. I always wrote it very small, though, so no one but me would know it was there.
I used to fantasize about having cancer and different ways of dying and all other manner of morbid self-atrocities. My favorite fantasy was one that I played in my mind, repeatedly, for many years as a child. Here is how it went:
Me, my little sister Katy, and my stepmother, who is Katy’s biological mother are all
standing in this really dark basement. I never fantasize about how we got down there,
but Katy and I are cowering together and right across from us stands my stepmother
and a crazed, masked, unknown gunman. The walls are made of a light tan brick and
they seem wet and slimy. There is only one dim light hanging from a wire from the
ceiling, which swings lazily overhead, in juxtposition between me and my sister and my
step-mom and the crazed, masked, unknown gunman. I am so scared down there, not at
all knowing how to comfort my little sister, because we can’t stand each other, but I feel
bad about it now knowing that both of us are about to die. All of a sudden the gunman
looks at our mom and says, “Ok, I’m going to kill one of your daughters now but you
have to choose. Do you want me to shoot Katy or do you want me to shoot Sarah?”
It never failed, no matter many times I re-ran the scenario in my head, she always picked me to be shot. Even on the good days, in my good moods when there was the thought that she might really, possibly love me….she always picked me to die with zero hesitation.
Now that I’m grown and have learned much about life and a little about psychology and the way the human mind works, I can understand why things in my life have turned out such as they have.
I did it.
I brought all of this on myself.
All of the things I have ever feared the most have now happened.
I really do believe that my biggest fear, which was the fear of losing my children, was so strong and palpable, that I manifested it. Never, in a million years, did I dream I would have lost my youngest four children, the way that I lost them, but lose them, I did.
Now, I have nothing left to lose and nothing left to fear….and I don’t know whether that’s good or bad.