Beautiful Madness

I realized today that I have raised myself with occasional guidance from my mentally ill parents with severe addictions- one to drugs and the other to perpetual turmoil. Two highly functional, brilliant people with a pension for pain created a family of genius, secrets, art, creativity and borderline insanity. A mother who remains a little girl herself filled with self-doubt and the inability to love without countless undecipherable rules and conditions. A father who never realized his potential and seeks self-sabotage in place of joy. A son who teeters between the refined mind of a genuine artist and a schizophrenic child dependent on whatever substance makes him feel more alive.

And I was born the old soul put in place to provide a model for stability, loyalty and sanity. Without a word I became the pillar standing strong in shifting earth, building walls to keep myself safe and to gather the strength to care for them. I would sink into myself and turn a bit numb, shutting down emotions in order to survive. I learned that love is temporary and is intertwined with codependency, chaos and a general tug of war of emotions. Stability is simply an adjective and not a reality while those around me seek my council, applaud my strength and have little to no understanding of how I was born a caretaker who cared little for herself. I have not only raised myself but my parents and my sibling. No chance for a real childhood until I broke free of their presence and learned to put myself at the forefront.