Here lately I've been feeling blue. I've had a close relationship with my melancholy for years. When I was a child I often dreamed of my death. I never planned to bring it about, but I daydreamed of it like my classmates would dream of being a sports figure.

As a child my home life was constant chaos. My mother was by appearances bi-polar, my father, a sweet man who had no idea how to deal with my mother and the dysfunctional children he fathered.

If it were only my mother I had to deal with I might have been better adjusted, but I was being constantly abused by my older brother. If he wasn't using me as a punching bag, he was using me for other things even more harmful and demeaning.

I sank into sex and drugs at a young age and stayed there for many years. By all appearances I was a studious and quiet person. Inside I was violent, self destructive, dishonest, and thieved when ever I could get away with it. I hurt many people and let myself into situations and places that, on reflection should have either killed or seriously injured me.

I was nearly 30 before I awakened. I realized the life I'd chosen was unworthy. Upon opening my eyes I endeavored to live a better life. I saw my siblings and myself laying blame for all our problems at my mothers feet. The choices were ours to make. Sure she gave us a warped view of the world, but each of us knew right from wrong even if her example failed us.

I forgave my mother some years ago, but many years after she passed. Forgiveness for my brother came much later. I struggled with forgiveness for someone felt they did no wrong. After all his view was, and still is, that the weak are meant to be used by the strong.

I've come to see the pain my mother lived in her childhood. I pity her lack of sight for the joy which could have been hers. My grandfather had abused her as a child and teenager. This explains much. I wish her peace if there is an existence beyond our physical bodies.