When Shit Happens and Keeps Coming

In my last post, I was lamenting that my PTSS symptoms had returned, because my grandchild had a tough birth. Fortunately, all is now well in that area.

However, on Sunday, just as I was about to enter a Christmas music concert, my brother called to say that my dear cousin, Kathy, who was like a sister to me, was killed by a hit and run driver in Patmos, Greece, where she lived part-time.  Luckily, my brother was the one to go to Greece to deal with all the complex details of her death.  Nothing is easy or free in Greece.

I offered to go, but he said that he would do it, and I did not protest.  Now, however, I feel at wit’s end.  Her sister and two brothers are all jerks, and initially they were not involved.  However, after the funeral was organized by me to take place in LA (where she also lived part-time), two of her three siblings decided not to bother to attend.  The one who did attend had to, because he lives in town, and the funeral was at his church.

This is where it gets confusing.  My cousin was like a sister to me, because her own sister had abandoned her.  We had the bond that her sister hated us both.  I was hated, because I was too “together,” and Kathy was hated because she was not “together” enough.  Naturally, my first inclination was to put a negative spin on why we were close.  Did I really love Kathy, or did I  just feel sorry for her?  She was also an alcoholic, which complicates things.  I have a history of rescuing dysfunctional people as a way to make myself feel better about what a mess I am.

I cannot answer this question now, and I realize that I need to work on my co-dependency program in order to get that part of my feelings straightened out.  I suspect or at least hope that I got involved with her initially, because I was trying to rescue her, but that we did ultimately move on to a true relationship.  It is confusing, but I am in real grief.  Even as I write this, I am feeling terrible at the thought of going down to LA for the funeral.  I realize that grief is natural, but as a Depressive, I have to be careful to separate the two, which is not always easy.