It occurred to me today that it is July 3rd, the day before Independence Day and the day before Susan's birthday. She will be 61 this year.
Growing up, the Fourth of July was never a day of celebrating. While we would have cake and ice cream in celebration of Susan's birthday, no plans were ever made to celebrate the National Holiday. While other kids went off with their parents to park roadside and watch fireworks, we were stuck at home, usually watching whatever sitcom Susan was into at the moment.
Its not that we didn't want to go see the fireworks, take trips to the lake or grill on a Bar-B-Que, It was that Susan didn't want to.
Because of Susan's illness she avoided being in public at all costs. I always found that funny, since she could hear the voices anywhere she was, whether is be home or the grocery store. I never understood why she avoided people if she heard them all of the time anyway.
Anyways, whatever Susan wanted to do, we did, it was her Birthday after all. At the same time we were deprived of celebrating what most Americans would consider a big Holiday.
None of this is to say that we never tried to get Susan out of the house. When we all had jobs and were bringing in money we would offer to take her out to dinner. We would promise her that we wouldn't let anyone talk about her. We would tell her that we would park the car away from the others so that we could see the fireworks. Of course, none of it ever convinced her, and the night would year after year would be spent by her side, in our house.
When we were teens, and Royce had the freedom of driving, we would contemplate getting into the car and sneaking off to find some fireworks. It never happened. The guilt of leaving Susan alone on her birthday, or any other time for that matter, was heart wrenching for us.
Its little things like this that really make me realize how much Susan needed us, especially for emotional support. While most mothers are there for their children in times of need, we were there for Susan. Without us she had no friendship, no love. Without us we knew that she would shrivel into a severe state of depression and spend her days slowly dying in a darkened room all alone.
As we all got older and began to get out on our own and live our own lives, the guilt and resentment I felt for Susan only deepened. Anytime I went off with friends or my husband at the time, the entire night would be spoiled with internal dialogue buzzing in my brain. "You're a horrible daughter", I would think, "Who do you think you are to have fun when your mother is all alone?" By the time I would arrive back home, little remembrance of the fireworks and fun would remain, only the daunting thoughts that filled my head.
Many times, I found it less painful to be stuck at the house with Susan rather than go out and have fun like most people my age would have. Dealing with the monotony of our house was much easier than dealing with the remorse of leaving Susan behind.
Looking back, I am saddened to see how much time and energy I wasted on pitying her and her lonely life. For I truly created a lonely life for myself by doing so.
It is said that we must all be responsible for all of the things that have happened in our lives. We all have made choices and each choice has a consequence. In taking responsibility for the lonely life I have created for myself, I still feel that I cannot hold Susan accountable for where she was in her life.
While I am mentally and emotionally capable of making decisions and accepting the consequences that come with them, I feel that Susan was not. Her emotions so incredibly crippled and broken, her mental state, so disfigured that it was incapable of grasping reality.
Would it be fair to say that Susan was responsible for her lonely life? I think not, that is my personal opinion though. When you think about it from her point of view, would you want to surround yourself with people who openly gossip about you and say hateful and hurtful things right to your face? If you were surrounded by that, would you also make it a point to stay within the walls of your home so as to avoid all the hurtful words? In all honesty, I think I would. I would hide away too.
In my journey of forgiving Susan and accepting her illness I find more and more that looking at the world from her point of view is the most beneficial way to reach my goal of total forgiveness.
Perhaps, if you have someone to forgive and are having a difficult time, it may benefit you to live their life from their point of view sometime. Just a thought :)
Until then, have a great Holiday and enjoy the lake, grilling, fireworks, friends, family, whatever it may be. As for me, I am sure that much of my night will be full of the same old internal dialogue that has been rambling in my brain for many years come every Fourth of July. Funny how when someone is no longer in your life, they are always there.
In my new journey of writing my book about my strange life, I have found it hard to simply start writing away. While many different stories and memories pop up in my head, I am having a difficult time linking it all together. For now, I have been writing my stories and memories down. I will link them all together in my book later. For now, here is one for you to read if you have got the time...
"Church"
I never understood why Susan ever went to church. She despised every person she came across, especially the church members, with the Bishopric always being at the top of her list for the most hated.
I recall a very vivid memory of an outing to church with Susan when I was 9 years old. At this time, we had had little to do with the church. My parent's divorce and all of the issues that led up to it left very little desire to seek any kind of spiritual enlightenment.
For whatever reason, one Sunday, Susan took me to church. As usual, we sat in the over-flow area, in the very back away from the pews. I hated how she insisted that we sit on the hard, metal, chairs for what seemed like hours as the Sacrament Meeting carried on and on.
As usual, my hair was tangled and un-brushed. My dress was something that resembled a Navy Blue, crushed velvet, garbage bag and It made me uncomfortable and sweat. Looking down at my shoes I could see where the white leather of my tennis shoes had turned to a wrinkly and dingy brown. Looking about I could see all the other people, wearing bright, cheerful dresses and freshly shined dress shoes. How I envied them and there beautiful clothes. How I envied them and their perfect appearance.
My concentration was broken when I heard the muttering begin, "You're nothing. You lose, I win." Without even looking up I knew what was happening. There Susan sat, shaking her head is disagreement, as usual, muttering strange ramblings under her breath. "You are nothing!" she shouted as the surrounding church goers looked to see what all the fuss was about. She continued to shake her head, saying hateful things to whoever it was she was talking to. As her voice gradually got louder and louder, I could feel more eyes upon me. People looking at me as if I was the one who was rambling.
I looked up at Susan. She had that wild, fiery look in her eyes again. Her matted hair striking her cheeks as she shook her head violently back and forth. "You're all Looooosers! She called out, "You're sick, you think you're better than me? You're evil! You're corrupt! Stop persecuting me. Leave me and my family alone! Evil fucked up sickos!!"
The stares were too much for me to handle. The look on Susan's face was too much for me to handle, and I quietly got up out of my chair. At that moment I prayed to God that he would make me invisible. I looked down at my dirty shoes and ragged dress as I held my head in shame, walking towards the door.
I slipped out into the lobby as I heard Susan's voice fade behind me. "I've got to get out of here" I thought, "I need to hide where she can never find me." The lobby was brightly lit and empty but I knew I had to go somewhere that Susan couldn't simply walk out and get me. As I walked down the hallway, a dark staircase was to my left. Not totally sure what it led to, I followed it anyway. I would go anywhere to escape from the shame and embarrassment of Susan's wild behavior. Each step felt like some kind of victory. Every step I took was just another step away from her and the stares.
At the top of the stairs was one single door. Upon opening it, the stair way lit up, from the light that illuminated the second story room. I entered the door and found a long, narrow room. A single green pew stretched the length of it and faced a long window. Looking out of the window, I could see that I was above the pews of the chapel. I could see the podium and the organ, the Bishopric intently listening to the speaker on the microphone whose voice echoed through the speakers above me.
Afraid of being seen I walked to the pew and lay down. I rolled on my back and stared at the ceiling tiles above me. "Why does she have to do this?" I thought, "Why does she always have to embarrass me?" I lay there, thinking about the looks on people's faces. The look on Susan's face. Even the ceiling tiles seemed to have eyes, throwing sharp, judgmental darts into my soul.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I lay there thinking about Susan and how much I hated her. I was so angry that she brought me here. It was as if she had brought me to church just to have the opportunity to once again publicly humiliate me.
I turned on my side, facing the window and curled up in a little ball. I felt so lonely and small. I thought if I could curl up enough I could just shrink and disappear and no one could ever stare at me again. I closed my eyes and prayed, asking God to take me away from this living nightmare.
My mind went blank as I heard the organ from the chapel play music, and the congregation began to sing in unison "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." I intently listened to the song and all at once I felt so peaceful. It was as if the only thing that really existed was me and the music and I felt so happy being so isolated, being in my own little world.
Abruptly I sat up. My ears perked up as I heard a familiar voice. It was Susan. I looked around only to see that I was alone, yet her voice continued. I questioned what I was hearing, as I could hear her loud and clear, yet there was nothing to show evidence of her presence. The voices of the congregation and the music of the organ began to trail off, and it was then that I realized that her voice was very real, and that it was coming from the microphone.
I began to shake as I stood and walked to the window. I could feel my heart pumping faster and faster with every step that I took. I came to the window and looked down. There at the podium was Susan, microphone in hand.
"You are all evil! You should be ashamed of yourselves! Because of you my daughter is out walking the streets and she'll never be seen again. Someone took her! You're all evil! Why do you persecute us? Why do you want to hurt us? You're all Losers! I win!"
I thought, "I must be dreaming, this isn't happening, I'm dreaming." The moment felt so surreal, almost as if it were a dream. I looked down at Susan, as the men of the Bishopric began to surround her and pull her away from the podium. Kicking and screaming, they carried Susan out of the side door, the congregation left in a state of confusion as their commotion roared faintly through the speakers.
I stood there staring out of the window. I couldn't move. I wasn't sure of where I was or what I had just seen. Had I fallen asleep and dreamt this whole fiasco? Was I ever even at church at all? I slowly backed up and sat back down on the pew behind me.
Slowly sensations began to return to my body. The light breeze of the air conditioning grazing my tear-soaked cheeks. The weight of my body sinking into the pew. The rough material that rested beneath my fingertips. They all came back as my mind re-entered the room. It was then that I realized that what had just happened was in fact real.
I sat there for a minute, not sure what to do. I knew I had to do something, these people thought I was missing and out walking the streets. I had to get down stairs before there was anymore of a scene.
I opened the door and peered down the dark stairway, my heart racing in my chest. Every step down those stairs were crippling as more and more of what had just happened sank in. Upon taking my last step, and finding myself in the hallway, there was still no one to be found. I was alone.
I quietly walked out into the lobby and stood silently. To my left was two double doors that led out to the parking lot. The bright sun flooded in and I could feel its warmth. They looked so inviting, as if beckoning me to come to them and go outside. Once outside I could run away and hide. Maybe they would never find me, maybe someone would come take me away and I would never be seen again.
To my right was the hard and dark double doors leading back into the chapel. The doors could have been the gateway to hell as far as I am concerned. I could hear the hushed commotion that was still going on just beyond the doors. The voices of all the people in the cheerful clothes and shiny shoes. I knew that going through this door would mean going back to Susan, going back to the shame and embarrassment, and stares. Going back to the woman who I hated so much.
Even at 9 years old, I knew that I could not run away. I knew that running away would only make the situation worse and that I had to make things right. I slowly walked to the door and pulled on the large, brass handle. Only opening it a few inches, I peeked inside. everyone was up and out of their seats, chattering about Susan. I looked around as much of the room as I could see when suddenly my searching eyes were met with the eyes of an elderly woman. I stood and looked at her, peeking through the cracked door. She had blue eyes that were magnified by her thick glass lenses.and white hair that was curled up on the top of her head. She had a gentle smile that was so warm and inviting.
We stood looking at each other for what seemed like hours until she lifted her hand and motioned for me to come over to her. I felt as if my feet were rooted into the floor as pure terror took over me. She continued to motion until my body finally surrendered and I slipped through the door and walked over to her.
Her warm hand clasped my shoulder as her gentle eyes looked into mine.
"Was that your mother up there?" She asked. Looking at the floor, my head held in shame, I nodded my head. "Come with me" she said. She led me through the sea of people from one side of the room to the other. Everyone talking, chattering, inquiring about the crazy lady on the microphone and what little girl she was talking about.
Walking through the room it was as if no one even noticed me. As if I was only visible to the gentle old lady. They were so caught up in their chatter and gossip that they didn't even see me, and for that I was grateful. The lady led me to a door and she opened it for me.
I stepped out into the hallway, staring at the floor. As the door closed behind me, the gossip faded and my new surroundings came into focus. I looked up and saw Susan down at the far end of the hallway.
AS I took in the scene being played out, I fell back into a place of shock and surreality. Time seemed to slow down as I watched Susan's dramatic scene play out. I could see Susan screaming, yet she made no noise. I could see the men around her struggling to hold her down, yet I could hear nothing besides a faint buzzing in my ears.
I could see Susan's arms flailing wildly through the air as she fought off the 4 or 5 men who were trying to hold her down. It was a strange thing to see a woman of Susan's strength effortlessly throw the men off of her body. Their ripped clothes and red, sweaty faces only revealed how long they had been at her, trying to calm her down and keep her from hurting anyone.
She threw another man off and he fell to his knees on the floor. Panting, sweating, adrenaline rushing, he looked up and our eyes locked. Without hesitation he stood up and walked quickly over to me. Dropping back down to his knees, he gripped my shoulders in his hands. I looked up at him and could see tears in his eyes. His face and neck was wet and red and his veins protruded from this skin. His shirt had been pulled from its neatly tucked state and his jacket had torn seams.
I could suddenly hear his panting as he knelt in front of me. I could tell that he had been in quite a scuffle. As he caught his breath, he began to speak in a ragged voice, "Laurie, your mom is sick. She needs help. You need to help her."
I looked into his eyes as he spoke and I could see the dramatic scene coming to an end at the end of the hallway.
I looked up and standing next to the man was Susan, staring down at me, with the same redness and sweat upon her face and chest. She grabbed my hand and yanked me off of the floor and we quickly walked outside into the parking lot. I looked back at the old lady, still standing in the hallway, tears rolling down her face. We reached the car and Susan got in as fast as she could. I hesitated to get in but realized that I had no other choice. Still getting into the car she sped off like a bat out of hell, the open door nearly missing another car parked closely by.
As we hit the main road she began to rant again as she swerved frantically in and out of traffic. She ranted about the evil people in the church who were persecuting our family. Her voice was faint as I thought to myself, "Laurie, mom is sick. She needs help. You need to help her."
