I’ve been broken, but I’ve also been mended. I thank my husband for that. However, there are some things that are hard to fully repair. Those are the things that live in my mind. Some of those things I don’t even remember yet, but I know they’re there. Sometimes I don’t think of those things at all; sometimes all I do is think of them.

I have an amazing life. A life most would envy. I’m happy yet I have depression, anxiety, and PTSD to name a few. So shit gets complicated sometimes. It’s like having my own personal set of demons.

Last night I felt a new low. A low that makes my eyes swell with tears, makes my heart feel like someone has reached right into my chest and squeezed it until the blood just stopped flowing. I woke up today with the same feelings as I tried to wrap my head around the why’s. There’s no doubt this will become one of many the scars that make me who I am.

Why do the people who are supposed to love us the most do things to hurt us? I’m sure we’ve all heard the answer “if they weren’t important to us, it wouldn’t hurt so much”, but that’s little consolation when you’re betrayed by your own flesh and blood. The very fabric of your being.

That damn “why?” question! It seems to be lingering around every scar. Why is that? See. Sometimes answers are obvious and to me that is an easier pill to swallow versus the bullshit that just can’t be explained or understood.

So, if you’re still reading this, there’s a chance you’re curious to know just what the hell happened. First of all you should know that there’s no ongoing family feud or anything of that sort. Out of the blue my mother calls me, which is cause for alarm since I’m the one who normally does the calling (I live 900 miles away). So immediately I think it’s bad news. It’s actually her wedding anniversary. No, I didn’t forget. I know my mother and she is definitely beating around the bush, but I go along. She proceeds to tell me that my Daddy didn’t take her out for their anniversary but she did just get finished having some wedding cake.

So I’m like oh, I like cake, where did you get it? She casually says “your sister got married today”. I absolutely had to dig any additional information that I got out of her. Come to find out, this wasn’t a spur of the moment court-house wedding, it was a fully planned ceremony that had a venue and invitations sent out in advance.

Granted, I’m 900 miles away, but my mother ONLY called to tell me because my daughter told her it was wrong they didn’t even tell me; so to ease her guilt she called to tell me before I found out on Facebook.(Her words). That was so nice of her to think of my feelings.

As my eyes started to swell with those damn tears, I held it together and continued our conversation as normally as possible. Later I found out about the extent they had gone to for months to hide it from me. Why? Really, why? I’d like to know, but I won’t ask. Right now, I feel like I don’t want to talk to them at all. But that’s my family. I love my family. Do they not love me? What did I do to deserve this to be hid from me? My sister for God’s sake!

This is a pretty rough kind of hurt. A realization that the people I should be able to trust completely and whole-heartedly will lie to me, hide things from me, hurt me.

It feels like a huge part of me died. I am breaking, but I’m not broken.