Walking Away

Looking back at old smiling pictures, I wonder: were you high then?

How about that one, and this snapshot, or in the album over there?

We sure seemed like a happy family.

And I know we had lots of good times.

So was I just not aware?

Was I oblivious to what was going on around me because I was only a child,

too small to understand?

At what point did I become conscious of what was happening;

that you were almost always high at every party,

for every holiday gathering, during every wedding and funeral.

Did I then simply start ignoring your behavior to protect myself,

to ease the weight on my psyche of never knowing what condition you’d be in,

of having to always be prepared for every possibility, every scenario.

At what point did I go from that happy (looking) little kid to who I am now –

cringing, dreading every time I’m slated to see you,

either individually, at a family party, or otherwise?

Because I never know how you’ll be, how you’ll act, what you’ll say.

Because I never know which you I’ll get,

or exactly how uncomfortable you might make us all feel.

You make me not want to be there, around lots of other people that I love and miss.

Because it’s easier to not have to deal with you there, too.

Because I feel like I am responsible for you in those group settings.

Does everyone else think I am your keeper?

Am I?

You obviously have some sort of anxiety that caused(es) you to drug-up for events,

and on plenty of regular days, too.

But the rest of us do not deserve the price.

And we are not your solution.

Most of the time now, I avoid you,

because I can’t stand not knowing which you I’m going to get.

Would I have done that when I was a child if I could have?

I don’t know.

What was life like before my eyes were opened?

I can tell in an instant, now, as an adult -- one glance; one breath; one word.

That’s all I need.

But what the heck did I know back then?

By a certain age, I knew a damn ton more than a child should have.

Am I giving up all of those happy memories,

rejecting the good times that really did happen, denying their existence;

if, when, I walk away now?

I don’t want to.

Can I keep and cling to the old joy, all the while declaring,

accepting and knowing that there's no future?

Would that be legit?  Ethical?  Acceptable?

I hope so.

So many questions still unanswered.

Is there someone, anyone who can tell me it’s okay to walk away?

Because I’m doing it anyway.

Walking away.

I have to.

I have told you that if you want to do drugs, go ahead –

because you’re an adult that can make your own choices;

just keep it away from me and anyone else who doesn’t want to see it.

But you can’t.

You cannot control it.

You cannot control yourself.

I, however, can control me, and what I let into my life.

No more apologies.

No more gifts.

No more manipulation.

No more guilt.

No more anger.

No more surprises.

No more promises.

No more you.

When (if) I can ever be confident in your state of mind, your status,

how you will be on a given day – constantly, consistently –

when I can know without a doubt that you’ll be fine and good –

then, we can resume some kind of relationship.

On my terms.

Turning, walking away, MY healing begins.

This is about me now.

Turning over a whole tree full of proverbial new leaves.

Deleting the past pain, so that I can’t even revisit it if I wanted to.

1…

2…

3…

Now.

Risk.

Leap.

Robin Donoghue

The sly and trusty Robinator is a square peg – 

not fitting easily into any single category, living not just inside and outside of the box, 

but all mixed up in a pile of them. She’s a walking contradiction  (in the good way) – 

having a wide, diverse range of interests, not being defined by any one thing, 

and willing to try pretty much anything at least once. 

Born and raised in Somerville, this lifelong athlete, foodie who almost always ends up with 

pasta sauce on her (especially when it’s white) shirt, mother of two cats, free-spirited hippie at heart whose socks never match, is socially awkward, yet a flirt, too.  She enjoys photography, traveling, generally being creative, and practically requires having pockets.  When she grows up, she wants to get an RV and be a nomad with her dear husband, or live on a self-sustaining 

intentional community with all the best people she knows and loves.