The Best and Worst Years

Every seven years the cells in your body have all been replaced by new ones. This means anyone you touched longer than that it’s as if they’ve never touched you. Knowing that made this anniversary of my aunt’s death a little harder.

It’s weird to think that no part of my body has technically touched her. Though in the long scheme of things that isn’t that big of a deal it still makes this year harder. It also made me reflect on the last seven years.

Sometimes it feels like nothing’s changed. I happen to live on the same street as I did seven years ago. I work at the same place I was going to school back then. A lot of the time it can feel like I am just surviving in the same place I once shared with her. No growth. No big changes.

But that’s not true.

I was 100% dependent on her when she died. Overnight that changed. I was nineteen so an adult but I look back and see how young that still is. Especially at that time when the trauma I had endured still had a big hold on me. I didn’t feel my age. A lot of the time I still was pretty young. I also had speech problems. I would try to talk and physically would not be able to say what I wanted to. Not in an “I want to say something but not sure I should” kind of thing. I would spend minutes trying to say words and I couldn’t get my mouth to move no matter how much I wanted it to. I don’t know when that went away but it was still a few years after my aunt’s death. I am now somewhat of a talker. I still have my moments and the people around me affect that, but I talk. For someone who was in speech therapy as a child to then have trauma that added to those issues, I didn’t think I’d ever not struggle to be able to talk. I still have some pronunciation issues but that comes more with nervousness and specific words.

Most of those in my life that are the most important to me have never met my aunt. Most of them hear about her since I still find a way to bring her up (not on purpose). I don’t think most of them would be in my life if she was still alive. I kept pretty close to her my entire life. I had got her onto Starbucks the last year of her life. There was one day she went to Starbucks while I was in class. When she picked me up I noticed the cup and of course, I needed to go. We went back so I could get something and the barista said, “Oh there she is,” because it was weirder when I wasn’t with my aunt.

For most of my life, my aunt was my entire world.

That was probably not the healthiest but that’s what happens when you put a broken adult with a broken child. We had each other. We were mourning the abrupt death of the most important person in our lives (my mom, her sister).

She probably never should have been a parent. I say that with the most love. Even with me who got the better version of her compared to her kids, I still came out with a lot of damage from how she raised me. I have spent a good chunk of the past seven years healing from that damage. She could be narcissistic. The thing with her she had no idea. A lot of it was because that was all she knew. She went through trauma and hardship that I can’t imagine going through.

I’ve never resented her for what she did or said as damaging as it could be. I believe she did the best she could. I knew she loved me deeply. To an extent that is all I need. I just need to be loved.

I, unfortunately, had to learn what healthy love was since I didn’t know what that was. I don’t think my aunt ever really knew what it was.

I did fall into a couple of unhealthy and toxic relationships shortly after she died. I didn’t know anything else. I was isolated for the first few years after her death. Being shown love whether it was unhealthy or healthy love I wanted and needed it. I was still so young and naive (something that took me a while to admit). I did learn things about myself in some of those toxic relationships. So like everything in life, I try to find the lessons learned.

I love fast and deeply. A lot like my aunt.

Most of the time it is good. I am still working on not getting attached. I have learned that getting attached isn’t particularly healthy. You get attached out of fear. I have a legitimate reason to fear that someone is going to leave. A lot of that attachment, especially in my case, comes out of toxic relationships. Being trauma bonded to someone will contribute to that.

I was reminded about how I think when that anxious attachment happens. It’s not healthy. I was able to see that recently which is a big step. For most of my life, I wasn’t able to see it which means I didn’t know differently. I now know differently. I know I don’t want to go back to that mindset. A mindset that I have spent three years working on getting rid of.

It’s not an easy thing to stop from coming up to the surface. A lot of it is reminding me that what I am thinking isn’t coming from love. Most of my negative thoughts are lies. I try not to dwell on those thoughts. I try to remind myself that I am loved. I do have a life that I am pretty happy with. I am in a place where I could be in a romantic relationship and be happy and okay.

These seven years without my aunt have been some of the best and worst years of my life. There are times when I feel stuck and not much has changed. I have changed for the better. I became human. I have healed in ways I never thought would be possible. I am living and not surviving which has been so much of my life. Especially, after my aunt. I was so afraid of failing and becoming homeless (which never would have happened). I had the worst-case scenarios in my head. Each year went by and each year I got older (which isn’t the worst thing). Now I am sitting in my living room surrounded by plants and books and pictures of my mom and aunt. Things that make me happy. Things that ground me.

The core of me I think hasn’t changed much but the ability for it to come out and see the light has. I can finally embrace myself and who I am.

I love and miss my aunt daily. I know we are both where we are supposed to be. She isn’t in pain. Something she was in for her entire life. I am living with pain but can embrace it in ways she couldn’t. I know deep down I am living a life that would make her proud. A life that I don’t think she ever imagined I would be able to have.