Burying My Parents While They’re Alive
I don’t know what to do with this anger.
My dad finally saw a psychologist who directed him to a psychiatrist immediately. It’s been a tough couple of years, and they’ve taken a toll on us — especially my mom and brother. I’ve been living abroad for over 7 years, but my parents haven’t talked to me for the last 3 years, so I was lucky to be detached from their constant drama.
When they got in touch again, I had a mixed bag of emotions ranging from anger to hope. I was still angry enough to set my city on fire, but I had a pinch of hope left like a fragile branch of a weary tree resisting strong winds. I could feel the big presence of a little girl inside me — one who believed things could go back to how they were. A small, flawed, but nice family who loved and protected one another.
It didn’t take me much time to realize how naive I was. In the face of my dad’s mental health issues, everyone lived on eggshells. My brother was exhausted, my mom withered, and my dad had created a world in his head where we were neither welcomed nor somehow unable to get out.
When my parents reached out after 3 years of heavy and lonely silence, I felt happy. I was raised as a happy kid in a loving family until I came out as bisexual and got removed from the picture. The invitation back to the…
