Posted by Shame on February 6, 2006, at 11:08:38
Occasionally it washes over me, the enormity of what I put on your shoulders, my wife. A life sentence for us both should you choose to stay. I'm tired. Tired of thinking about it. Tried of having to examine all of my actions and wonder if I'm sane. Tired of wondering how much of the problem is me, how much is the meds, and how much is genetic. Tired of talking, sharing, and wondering about things that, until I met you, I never had to worry about. Tired of being a burden.
I hide what I am from everyone, sometimes even from you. Whether out of shame, or because I know it's not your burden to bare, it does not matter. Is it a betrayal? Proof that I will never know or trust anyone? I hope not.
I look at my niece. Three years old, sweet, kind, polite, and care free. It nearly suffocates me to think she may have what I do; what the rest of my family has. Sometimes I think of the joy that I would feel to have a child of our own in my arms, someone to love and teach. Then I realize that each time I looked into their face I would feel terror and guilt, wondering if I had brought something into the world that may regret it's own existence once the fire of adolescence fades from their heart.
So I beg you, my brother, to watch, to monitor, to SEE what your daughter goes through as she reaches her twenties. Don't let what happened to me happen to her. Keep her safe, supported, loved. Sane. Allow me to help her if, God forbid, she is sick as well and the genetic timer that ruined my life tries to ruin hers as well. TRUST me, your crazy brother, to see what you cannot and to understand her in a way you never will, as much as you love her. I can help her, and I will. Know that if ever I find myself with no one that cares and I have no reason to count myself among the living, I WILL be here to help her if I am needed.
That is no trivial gift.
poster:Shame
thread:606870
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/relate/20051204/msgs/606870.html