This story won first prize in a competition by 'Through My Eyes' Young Writers' Competition. Through the Transcultural Mental Health Centre, and Schizophrenia Fellowship of NSW and Mental Illness Education-Australia
Life's Meaning
LIFE: Think about it for a moment. What does it mean to you? Does it mean family, friendships, goals, dreams...?
To me, up until a few years ago it meant fear, confusion, anger, sadness, mental anguish, and disorientation, pitying looks that humiliate, friends disappear, no one to turn to...all those things are negative...but who couldn’t help feeling negative if you were in my place?
...Maybe this year won’t be so bad. Maybe we can start over. Maybe...
“No, don’t argue, please stop arguing!”
Oh Lord, please don’t let mummy and daddy argue.
I rush out of the house and down the paddock, the tears stinging my eyes. I sink down into the grass and try to forget....don’t think about it.....momentarily distracted, I listen to the magpies, they squawk and call shrilly, arguing over...there, I’ve remembered it again. I clench my fists and grind my teeth
“Lord, can’t you stop them arguing, it’s ruining our family!” I can’t work out why they would want to spend hours; I mean hours going over one topic, spitting words and abuse I had never heard before, back and forth, never ending...
I’m scared to say or do anything that might displease my father, as he is augmentative and very judgemental.
My siblings and I argue in whispers, glancing furtively around to make sure he doesn’t hear us. Eyes downcast, barely audible, we mumble an excuse when asked about something.
Who can blame the tears that soaked my pillow some nights, after an especially hard day?
Pitying glances from people hearing my father’s psychotic ramblings that humiliate me, and I wish I could turn into a ladybug so I could fly away and not have to stare at the floor with my hair hiding my face.
Mum shoving us in the car for unexplained drives away from home to stay at a caravan park or motel, so we could take a deep breath, clench our jaw and go home the next day to a silent but hostile reception.
...lollies and ice-cream bought to make us feel happy, but only masking what we were really feeling.
Siblings locked out of the house at night (while mum was away with a sibling in hospital for weeks), terrified of the dark and ‘everything out there’, - one had nightmares and phobia for years afterwards.
Rude, accusing letters written by my delusional dad to people we have nothing to do with, or who are close friends that are turning away in distrust, and don’t want us to visit them.
Feeling more cheerful when dad would be almost normal, and we’d be able to get along, but the next minute being scared again because he was back to his usual unpredictable self.
Incredulousness and a sense of horror when he was put in a remand centre for a month over a criminal offence.
As I sit and think of all this, I try and find a happy memory somewhere...true, there are a few, tucked away and not often thought of, but they don’t bring much comfort to a lonely, unhappy child, who can’t understand why this has to happen, and why can’t Daddy be like other daddies that love and care for their family, and just don’t behave like he does...
My dad left our home and went out west, and now occasionally gets a few odd j.obs 18 months after leaving he divorced mum.
Life now means to me, goals, and a purpose in life, dreams, and the future, walking with God, friends, family, and more freedom. Life is more predictable now I’m more sure of where I’m going......
What does life mean to you?
So YAY!!!
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