#40 Identity-Loss

I was most like my Dad. We loved animals, had the same sense of humour; we even looked alike. Tommy and I were closest in age and were best friends, especially after we moved out into the country. We explored the fields and woods, rode our bikes, tobogganed and skated in the winter, fished the creeks together in the summer. I felt special to these two people.

When they died, I lost a very important part of myself.

I was still someone’s sister and someone’s child but I was not somebody. (For many reasons I had never been close to my mother or my two older sisters.)

Overnight I went from
being somebody who was important to somebody
to nobody who was important to anybody.

I have struggled with this feeling all of my life. This loss of self.

I am convinced that I am not, nor ever will be, important to anyone ever again.
I know people care about me. I know people like me. I know that I have done good work. I know that I have helped people. I also know that I will never be special in anyone’s life.

That was taken from me when I was just 16 years old. When Tommy and my Dad died they tore such an important part of me away that a great gaping wound remained.
I guess the sight of it scares people off.