It has been over 3 weeks since Nana's funeral.  It was a rocky road for a little while, but I am happy to say that I am doing remarkably well.
      My therapist, told me that Nana's death, and seeing my abusive father again, were major stressors in my life, that could have sent me spiraling into a deep depression.  And depression often leads me to psychosis.
      I am so thankful that I was able to pull myself out of it.  I am so thankful that I had the strength.  But I didn't do it alone.  I have a great psychiatrist, a wonderful therapist, and some amazing family and friends, who allowed me to lean on them, who cared enough to listen to my words, who gave me heartfelt, encouraging support, and who prayed for me and prayed with me.
      I believe that emerging from mental illness takes a lot of work, on my part, as well.  Over the years, I have learned to reach out, to those I trust, and ask for help.  I use therapy and support groups to work through my issues.  I have used art to express myself.  I have a strong faith in God.  And since I started writing this blog, "My Uncomfortable Mind", my life has changed for the better.  I feel liberated....

     Well, although I survived Nana's funeral and seeing my abusive father, I did not anticipate the repercussions.  I didn't realize, that I would open the closet door, that held the skeletons.  I didn't realize the pain, that was about to come.  As my therapist said, "It was a Double-Whammy".  I was hit with grief over my Nana passing, and hit with anger, over seeing my father.
      I fell, into a deep hole of depression, that lasted about a week.  A week, is a short-term sentence, when it comes to depression, but what shook my soul the most, was the anger that I felt.  I wanted to kill my father, to hurt him forever, thinking over and over, of ways that I would do it.  And I hated myself for it.  I was feeling horribly guilty for entertaining these thoughts.  I felt like a killer and couldn't live with myself.
      Finally, in therapy, I learned that these types of thoughts were not unusual for survivor's of abuse.  I learned that my feelings were not "BAD", but simply feelings, that I had a right, to have.   I did not act on these feelings, that is what mattered.  I am not a violent person, ordinarily, in fact, I am quite gentle.  I am, however, a survivor of child abuse, domestic abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and Schizoaffective Disorder, and as a result, I pay a steep price, in times of stress.  And it sucks.
      I can't tell you, how many times, I have wanted to give up on life, because I just couldn't take the struggle anymore.  But somehow, I pull through and survive, growing stronger and braver after each trauma or bad experience.  "What doesn't kill you, will make you stronger".   And, I'm beginning to believe, that maybe, just maybe life gets better over time, if you work, to make it so.   And maybe, I should really give life a chance.

     I attended my Nana's wake and funeral this past week.  I am left with a variety of emotions.    
     I am heartbroken at the loss of my grandmother, we had a lot of interesting years together, she was an essential part of my life.  But it was a complicated relationship.
    I am relieved that Nana is in Heaven, now, and no longer suffering from Alzheimer's and congestive heart failure.  I no longer worry about her.  Even though she was well-taken care of, I still worried, knowing, that my Nana's end of life, was approaching quickly.  Two days before Nana died, I had a feeling that she was going to die, within a few days.  I didn't trust my inner voice, I shrugged it off, thinking: "How could I possibly know such a thing?".  Was that God telling me that Nana was going to join Him?
     At the wake I was held strong and did not cry.  My wonderful friend, Michele, attended the wake with my husband, and I.  With them, I was able to hold my head high, when my father and step-mother approached me with a "Hi, Chris", and an "I'm sorry about your Nana".  I said "Hi", and "Thank you", and nothing else.  After all, if I said what was on my mind, it would have destroyed the sacredness of my grandmother's wake.
    I haven't had a relationship with my father and step-mother in 26 years, after I outed my father for abusing me, when I was a little girl.  I did it to protect my half-siblings from our father.  I haven't seen them in 27 years because he turned them against me. It nearly killed me from heartbreak.  It seems that only my aunt, who was also abused by my father, believes it.  Nana knew that I was telling the truth but wanted  "our little family" back together, wanted me to forgive and forget.  If only I could.
    At the funeral though, my feelings came out as I cried for Nana.  I said nothing to my father and nobody asked why we weren't associating with each other.  In truth, I had a fleeting moment where I wanted to take the chair in front of me, and smash it over my father's head.  But I didn't, I took the high road and took comfort, in the fact, that he now looked like a little old man, and would probably be dead soon.  I just hope that he doesn't molest any more children.
    I also feel free now.  I have closed a chapter in this tale.  I never have to see my father again.