Stumbling blocks

There is quiet.

My sister has been pretty stable at her new place and it has been very quiet. There have been a few hiccups but I have backed off and let her handle them on her own. I have tried not to worry. It is a strange feeling to supress worry and despair and just live in stagnation and status quo. I concentrate so hard on getting up, getting dressed and getting on with it that it has seriously taking every ounce of energy I have. I have been busy - perhaps contrived by my unconscious to keep me from fretting every minute away. I decided to accept a position to teach suicide intervention. The training started today - it is long and exhaustive and I cried during my introduction today. I tried really hard not to and the tears barely leaked out. They asked us how we had been affected by suicde both personally and professionally. I tried to make a joke and be strong but saying it out loud was just too much. My voice wavered and I felt the sorrow overtake me. So many times I have been in the hospital waiting room wondering if my sister was alive. So relieved when she was and so goddam mad when she was. How can you be relieved and volcanic in your anger at the same time? I wondered if I would ever be able to stand in front of a class and teach this? I think my group did today too. I hate being weak when I talk about suicide because mostly I have become so cold about it. I have faced it's reality with my family so many times. My dad completed, my brothers and sisters through multiple attempts and my mom living her life like she was already dead. Suicide is in my family like Sunday dinner is to others. It always sits at the table. You never know when it will stop by for a visit. I wish I could be flippant about it, talk about it like it doesn't hurt but once again in my effort to be bigger than mental illness, I have been toppled. You would think I would learn.

On the bright side, I have started to run again. I want it to be positive this time. I want to run like I'm running for my life. Sometimes I think I am. I want to outrun mental illness and what it has done to my family. I want to sneer at it and say you haven't won. I wish it didn't feel like my feet were molded in cement. I wish I was running towards something in stead of running away. But hey, at least I'm running again. And it's quiet. 

I'll take the quiet.