Dusting myself off

My mom tried to let my dad come visit us but he would end up yelling at her and she wouldn't stand for that. So we didn't see him that often. Life was developing a new pattern and I didn't mind. I started piano lessons once more adding to my sense of normalcy and relaxation. I didn't join any clubs at school because I was too shy and uncomfortable with the whole idea. My day consisted of going to school and going home to watch my younger sisters. Sometimes I would go to a friend's house if my brother was going to be home. I was making a few friends in my class but more in the grade below me. I soon realized that this was a bit of a social faux-pas but I continued nonetheless. I never told anyone what was going on at home because my dad had drilled the mantra of "family problems don't need to go outside of the family circle" ever so deeply into my mind. I think that I thought that no one would be able to understand the situation and would judge us.

I can't remember much else about the autumn of that year. I'm pretty sure that I was very cold towards my dad when we went to visit him. I would glare and cry and say basically nothing at all. My brother did the same because I was the oldest after all. My dad could hardly handle a visit because he was very depressed and still recovering from his nervous break down. He could have a conversation for about 20 minutes and then he was mentally exhausted. Everything had to be spelled out with lots of detail in order for him to follow the story. A very frustrating undertaking indeed so I would just wait it out until he had to go lie down for awhile.