Not Alone

Originally published on January 20, 2020

“If you feeling down, no you ain’t alone
And if you feeling all confused, no you are not on your own” -Kehlani

A few years ago, several therapists ago, I went to a therapy session. In this session, the therapist, who also worked with children, tried a bit of play therapy with me. She gave me a plastic bin filled with sand and some small toys and instructed me to use them to visually represent my childhood. I don’t remember all of the details of what I came up with. I do remember, however, my therapist’s reaction to what I did. I used various toys to describe me at different ages but I didn’t include any other people. No parents. No friends. I am not an only child but I didn’t use any toys to represent my brothers. Apparently, that was odd. The therapist said she had never had anyone only include themselves in this activity “in all (her) years of doing this.” I don’t know how I felt about her declaration. What did that make me? Strange? An outlier? A narcissist? She didn’t give me a definitive answer. I believe I accurately represented the loneliness I’ve felt when experiencing depression. But this is not a post about loneliness.

I was reminded about that therapy session when reading through some journal entries I had written when I was 15. In one entry, I wrote that my mother was upset because my then youngest brother was sad about our father not calling him on his eighth birthday. Although not represented with the toys, my brothers were indeed there experiencing all of the pain, confusion, anger, and loneliness an absentee parent leaves behind.

They have experienced that pain and have found ways through it. They are both great parents. Last month one brother acknowledged how intentional he is with parenting and being there for his sons. He said it is a direct response to what we lacked growing up. My other brother told me he desires a career change so that he can be closer to his children and live longer than our father. I have written about my father’s influence on my mental health. In the future, I will probably write about his influence on my career choices and parenting decisions. His reach is incredibly broad.

Depression narrows your vision. It causes you to see the world through tunnel vision glasses. I have been unable to see past my own heartaches to acknowledge the aches of others in my own family. When I think about how I felt following my father’s death, I’m only able to see it through my own painful perception. Again, I am not an only child. My younger brothers lost their father at the same time I did. He was ours. Not mine.

Today marks the 25th anniversary of our father’s death. But this is not a post about death. It’s a celebration of the life that remains. Today, I broke our family’s “don’t ask, don’t tell” cultural norm. We usually don’t bring up “bad stuff from the past.” But today I contacted my brothers to see how they were doing. We conversed about children, our struggles, our father, and the long-reaching claws of grief. Today, we said, “I love you” to each other. Today, I was reminded that I am not and have never been all alone.

Categories: : Wellness