Full Circle

'All families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way' - I didn't understand that line when I first read it. I was ten and let's face it, at ten, my family seemed pretty fun until about 11pm 'til the grog went from tipsy to drunk, the laughter fading into shouts, accusations, and glass shattering. I didn't realize how right Leo Tolstoy turned out to be.

Ten turned into twenty-five and here I am with a child of my own, the secrets of my family in my mind, the pain of the drinking from my childhood no longer a mystery to me, doomed to repeat a cycle of unhappiness. I have my own demons now.

What's that saying? You look into the abyss long enough and the abyss will look back at you... The abyss was my childhood, forever staring at me while I stare into the bottle and drink my pain away every night. My husband, now probably regretting the day he said 'I do', our own nightly entrapment of misery.

How do we find ourselves perpetuating the same sorrow of our past? My parents, stuck in unhappiness of adultery, while still wanting to make it work for the kids. Domestic violence. Parties. My Uncle coming into my bedroom at eleven when mum and dad were occupied with one of their drunkin' fights. Mum slapping me when I told her, calling me a liar. Her brother wouldn't dare!

As an adult, pushing down that hurt, only to meet who you think will be the man of your dreams, only to find, he's just a man. You go through relationship troubles, share your pain with them. Share pain together. Fall pregnant younger than anticipated and experience something heartbreaking... a miscarriage in the second trimester. And as you feel your baby growing inside your belly, see your baby 3D on the screen, feel the first kick, the hiccups... Feel the ripping pain. See the blood pour down your legs. Ring him in hystrics. Call the ambulance. Deep inside you, you already know, there's something wrong. Giving birth at 26 weeks but not bringing home a baby. Right there is the first tear in the fabric of the relationship. And when you have already suffered trauma, a trauma you've shoved down inside you, not willing to allow it to surface, it nicks at the very fabric of that too.

But, strength has always been something I've strived towards and after a grieving period, our relationship moved forward. Marriage was the next step. Officially into the craziness of my family. Bringing together a family like his - close-knit, loving, sane... to a family like mine. Only happy, unhappy. My mother still punishing my father for affairs with younger women instead of just leaving and being happy herself. My mother still making quips about her sicko brother, who I finally told her she better not utter his name in my presence. All of them still alcoholics.

Then, the affair happened... to me.

One year into our marriage. Five months pregnant. We just bought our new house. Our life was coming together. I jumped on Facebook and there was a message from Lenny Hines, a mutual friend. She snapped a picture of him out with a blonde I didn't recognize, his lips were on her neck, under the table, her perfectly manicured nails were sitting close to his ... you can guess where.

My heart throbbed against my chest, the sick feeling hammered my stomach - my mouth watered as the urge to throw up grew too strong. All I could think about was pegging the phone at his head and watching as the blood would spurt from the open wound.

Instead, I stayed for my baby, I stayed in an unhappy marriage, and became my mother. It's funny how life comes full circle.