I haven’t been here in a very long time. I want to keep up with forums and chat, but I barely do anything like that these days. I’m always so stupid busy. There’s not enough time in the day.
But I have to get something off my chest. I can’t tell a counselor, psychitrickerist, friends… husband…no one gets it. But you will.
Dad died.
Before he died, he tried to get me to come home. But I was at work, and I’d been told my entire life what a lazy person I was. I was working a fair, I told him I was coming in two days when the fair ended. he died the next day, a freak storm flattened the camp, and I went back to that abuse pit called home.
When he died, he visited me. He showed me his life. I saw the river. I saw his first crush. I said to him, Dad you have to stop this. because it was too soon. He stopped. But when you’re shown things like that, the residue is worse than tar. What a glorious beautiful world… god how I want to go back.
I won’t go into the abuses I suffered after going back to the pit. I will say that Dad did vindicate me to my mother, who was also dying. He came to her. “Said”" the same things. She said she kept seeing them, and I was able to say, yes. That is how the dead speak to you. And she was silenced, hopefully as the weight of shunning her strange Medicine daughter came crashing down. No one believes you can hear until they’re dead and they’re desperate for you to hear them.
And I’m sad.
It’s been two years and I’m still sad. I can’t tell if it’s because Dad is visiting (when they talk it’s painful) or if it’s because I’m sad. It can take years for the death of a loved one to heal over. I know this. I go through days doing okay and then nights like tonight will hit.
I’ve went back to the ways, dusted off my moccasins. Everyone said Dad was full of it but I’ve been going up the family tree and finding where he was NOT full of it,. You can make fun of me for saying my lineage all you want, but I’ve got a hell of a lineage and people can suck it. It’s just I get more sad because I’m the last one. My children are not going to follow after me. My ex made sure of it… and there’s no one nearby. It’s become a very solitary existence.
And more.
But mostly I’m sad.
When I say it to my husband, or if a dead person is bringing me grief, his response is for me to get help. You can’t talk to people about things, though. This is hot grief. It’s not bruised depression. I grief for ages. It’s a family trait. Time heals.
Grief is a natural thing. I’m sad. My Dad ran back to the river as fast as he could to get away from that cult, and I know he’s out there. He visited once. I just wish he’d visit again. Because I’m alone. And I’m sad.
There I said it. That is all.
I would say that roughly 70% of people don’t know how to be helpful through someone elses grief; they don’t know how to handle it or how to act, so they are quick to suggest solutions instead of walking you through whats going on in your inner world. Grief is a confusing and not at all linear kinna thing and it scares the observer; they are afraid they could say something wrong or that their reaction might make things worse. Some might even suggest to “finally get over it”, if the feeling lingers over a longer period of time. Please don’t take this reaction as their regard towards how valid your feelings are, they simply don’t know better.
It was nice to poke around the forum again. Do you know I looked to see if there was anything like my issue, but didn’t find anything. Never have seen much of anything here that’s labeled where I come from, but I’m here because demonolatry is a family tradition.