Saturday, March 16, 2013

The broken sausage roll bag

When I was a kid my parents sat me and my sisters down and told us they were getting a divorce
And I remember being so angry that they chose then to tell us
Because we were meant to go swimming with our next door neighbours
And they made us stay home instead
But things started to look up
Because my dad and sister went out
So mum gave me money to go to the milkbar to buy a sausage roll for dinner
I rode my bike there
But the sausage roll bag broke on the way home
And I cried and cried over that damn bag and the lost sausage roll

About a year later my mum took a bad turn
And she had to go to emergency
It was about twelve at night
So dad woke us up and took us in our pyjamas
We waited there for hours
Playing hand games trying to kill time
I don’t remember when we got home
But the next day
My teacher asked us all who had brushed our teeth that morning
But I was too scared to tell her that
So I lied and felt guilty about it all day

When I was a teenager my poppa died
I slept in the room with my parents that night
Because I was so scared I would see his dead body
And the dark became a place for trepidation
As soon as night time began
I was convinced he would be standing there
Staring silently at me
 I never cried at the funeral
Instead I watched everyone else cry
And wondered what was wrong with me

My sister was really sick around the same time
She had a broken heart
It had been broken for a long time
But she didn't know how to fix it
So instead it tried to destroy her
I used to visit her in the hospital
And wondered why the other patients did strange things
Like bark like a dog in front of the television
But it helped drown out the sound of her screaming
After one particular visit
I got in trouble the next day at school
My teacher told me to stop listening to my disc-man
So I threw it at her head
She sent me to the co-ordinator
And I started crying in front of her
I was so embarrassed
But kind of relieved
Because I never got punished for throwing that disc-man

Mum was back in hospital again
And I was old enough to visit her myself
So I caught the bus afterschool
And went in to see her
When I got back home
I had to hang the washing out
While I was halfway through
Our dog  peed in the basket
I was so angry at him for doing that
But that wasn't unusual
I always seemed to be angry back then
I think that's why my sister called me "attitude"

A few years later my dad sat me down
And told me a big secret
that took away all my trust in others
And all I thought was
“why did you tell me this?
it would have been easier if I didn't know”
And I started thinking about making newspaper hats
And going out drinking with my friends
Dad asked me if I had any questions
I asked him how to spell the big secret
He said he didn't know

When I was in my twenties
I started to get panic attacks
And couldn't leave the house
So I went to the doctor
who referred me to a psychologist
who referred me to a psychiatrist
They all tried to work out what was wrong with me
But it was too hard
Because they couldn't pinpoint the exact cause
So I spent years talking
And drinking
And punching walls
And cutting myself
While they continued to try and work it out

I went to the library a lot around that time
I wanted to know about everything that was wrong with me
I researched all I could
About the workings of my mind
From the day I was born
Until the present
I learnt all the tricks the shrinks used
To try fix you
(they hated this)
But no matter how much I learnt
It was never enough
To fix myself
All it left me with
Was a knowledgable psychological mind
And no degree to support it

They said "my brain was rewired
When I was just a small child"
And I imagined looking inside a computer
With cables and cords and electrical currents
So I asked them
"Why can’t someone just open up my brain
And move the cables around
So they are all in the right direction?"
They always laughed then
As if I was telling a joke
Because I always told jokes
But that time I wasn't trying to be funny

They told me "it’s too late"
And mumbled something about
“developmental stages”
And “that the time in the hospital
And the time in foster care
Happened at the wrong time”
As if there is supposed to be a right time for those kinds of things to happen
So instead of opening my brain
And fixing the cables
I was told to "take a tablet once a day"

I don’t cry anymore
The medication numbs me
Which is worrying
Because isn't not crying
What got me here in the first place?