Ending the Silence

Once, after living together for six months, my college roommate found out that my mom had cancer, and she said, “I just don’t get you suffer-in-silence types.”

It’s not like I enjoy keeping everything hurting me inside. But I don’t have many options left.

My father claims feelings are too effeminate for him to bother with. Now, if I wanted to discuss using the tanning bed in his bathroom, or the history of our blue blood family, that’s something that he would listen to with open ears, and then hijack the conversation with his own opinions. My older sister has much of the same concerns of my dad. Social standing and appearance—that’s it. I have a younger sister, too, but she is the opposite of suffer-in-silence. If she so much has a tickle in her throat or only got one like on her Facebook status, she will let you know. That tends to drown out anything anyone else might have to say.

Growing up, I had my mom to talk to about crushes and girls teasing me at school. But when I was fifteen she was diagnosed with breast cancer, and I had to be strong for her. How could I bring up a C on a test when she was losing her hair? Or not getting asked to the dance when she had been sick from chemo all day? I didn’t want to bother her with my little things.

What about friends? Well, the friends I make seem to slip away from me. They move away, or get married, or their careers takes over their personal life. It takes me a while to trust someone, and by the time I do, they’re gone. I almost expect people to leave now.

I do have a godmother, who was my mom’s best friend and lived right next to me growing up. She still lives there, I’m the one who moved away. And when Mom was sick and after she passed, I would talk to my godmother about it. I adore her, and she loves me like one of her own children, but I’ve found lately we don’t see eye-to-eye on much. As much as I love her, she’s still like my father, focused on how things will look to people outside, and thinking that money and society will make me happy. Lately when I’ve tried to talk to her about things, her focus goes completely the wrong way.

So here I am, with a blog. I’ll probably just be talking to myself. But maybe someone will listen. If not, at least I have somewhere to untangle my thoughts.

But if I’m to do this blog, really go at it, I’ll have to be as honest as I can with you, whoever stumbles in and reads this. I have to say what I think, how I feel, what’s happening. Which, for people like my younger sister, isn’t hard to do at all. But for me, it is. It’s hard to trust anyone with what’s going on inside of me and not have it come lashing back in my face. I guess I have to trust the internet. Funny how that’s a better option than trusting my own family, but here we are.