A lot of people will tell you that family is everything. I on the other hand will argue that point. There is a reason I have written this chapter as my first, that is because it is the hardest and the one that hurt me the most. There are many well-known quotes and sayings that define how family can hurt you, sad reality is none of them describe how I felt, how I feel now. To understand my family dynamic, I will have to explain the past and my opinion on why I think my family act the way they do. So, let's start from the start, which may not be one hundred percent legit, but I was at an age where I could not speak, let alone wipe my own arse.
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I, Harley May am the daughter of Kelsey and Peter May whom later brought into the world my darling brother Sebastian. So, seeming as I have already said this is not going to tip toe around any issues or fluff it up for readers let's start with the hard truths. When I think of my childhood I remember screaming, arguing, my Dad always been kicked out, and harsh words always been yelled around. Now I am not here to judge my parents on the way I was brought up as a child, they honestly did the best they could in the situation they were dealt. I completely understand every aspect of my upbringing, which makes me sound weird, but I have studied psychology, criminology, sociology and became somewhat of a counsellor to my parents in their last few years of marriage. There was always a massive issue with alcohol in my family (but looking back now it was only my mother that voiced her issues so loudly).
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From a young age I always remember my Mum going out with friends and my Dad disappearing to his garage (I knew what he was doing), it was his weekly ritual. Mum went out, he could pretend he had work to do, hide out in the garage drink beer and listen to some of the greatest music ever made. When he re-entered the house, he was drunk, and I always knew he was checking the time so he would make it to bed before Mum got home and noticed he was not himself on babysitter duty. Sometimes he made it to bed safely, then there were the times he over judged the time, or he drank too much he passed out in situations he was never going to get out of unharmed. I would love to say this ritual ended at some point, but it never did. During the week he would put on his best acting skills on his arrival home, and every time he would blow it. My brother and I noticed. It was hard not to notice Dad had completely different personalities on workdays and weekends. I saw what he was like outside the vicinity of our family home, he smiled. Which in all honesty broke my heart.
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For a long time, I felt like a burden, I can't speak for my brother but that is how I felt. I was born with a chronic illness (as was my brother), I caused them more stress than happiness. They argued about pointless things, both blaming themselves for giving birth to a child with a problem only a minority of doctors new of. The drinking, the arguing, the extremely harsh words were a way of venting, but they were also so destructive, not only to them. My Mum was always a hard person to mentally and emotionally tolerate. She loves hard, so hard that I think she feels so vulnerable and must lash out first in situations to feel like she was in charge, like she ended it. As much she may find this offensive, it isn't. I have my mother's fierceness and fight, if it weren't for the behaviours and attitude, I learnt from her, I would not be alive today.
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My Dad on the other hand was not a fighter perse, but rather a storyteller that would fight to prove those stories were real, when in all reality they were a big lie that grew into a bigger one the more he opened his mouth. Some may define that as a pathological liar. I think he had some hard truths he was terrified to face so he always went with the easier option...drinking and lying. Can't say I judge him there; it became my way of dealing or should I say avoiding my issues.
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My parents never showed affection, they never kissed, and they never said nice things to each other. When they occasionally did show affection towards each other it was foreign to see. Made me see and think of relationships in an entirely new perspective. Could be why I struggle showing affection and lash out at the people closest to me? After all we live what we learn right?
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So, inside my family home there was a lot of sickness, blame, arguing and extreme emotions. (Did anyone honestly think I was going to turn out normal? Now I don't think the two sides of my family could have been any more different from each other. There was my Mums side who were a tad churchy, proper and very blunt on one side of the fence. Then there was my Dads side, crazy, full of life, lover of drinking who were always fun to hang out with. At least for me it was, I felt like I truly belonged in that family. Sad truth is I was the black sheep on both sides.
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At first, I only felt like the black sheep on the one side, my Mums. They were always so successful, and goal orientated. I on the other hand wasn't. It was hard not to notice that my family was always the last chosen or the pity stop off. My grandparents never spent much time around my childhood home. To say it bluntly there was always a better option, if none of them options were available, we would be a quick stop over (generally the length of a cup of tea) or until they heard from one of the way more comfortable options. There was always tension around my house when my Mums parents came to visit, it was clear to anyone with a brain they highly disliked my Dad. Made it even more obvious they didn't like his family. Out of everyone on my Mums side it was only my brother and I that were born with a medical condition. So that made us special/different in so many ways we didn't want to be. None of them quiet understood what was wrong with us, which made conversations around cousins, unties and uncles very difficult and embarrassing. With so much love I say that over the last 8 or so years many of them have grown so much with their knowledge and understanding. They are my family now, the only family I have. The love I have for them is endless, and complicated.
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My Dads side of the family originated from Overseas, they were the family I felt like I belonged with. They understood me (well I think they did). Growing up it was very unlikely I would see most of my cousin on my Dads side more than once a year. The excitement inside me before May family events was epic. I loved showing up at them and hearing all the crazy stories and hanging out with who I thought were the coolest cousins in the world. There was one cousin I was always (in my eyes) closer to, I saw them more than most of my friends growing up and we would talk about the most out there things. Eventually we grew apart, we grew back together again in late high school but then once that finished, we no longer talk.
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Describing my Dads side of the family is awfully hard now considering the fall out that happened after my Dads death. It broke me in ways I honestly cannot describe, but I cannot be angry about it. One of the things that made me relate to them the most was standing my ground and having a no bullshit attitude with a short fuse. They have their opinion on a situation, and I have mine. But I don't know what I expected when I tried to explain my feelings to the May family. They weren't really the ones for expressing emotions, or feelings.
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To explain the May family situation from my prospective it will jump over several years, it all counts in my final call out to them and my '"fuck it" opinion now. As I stated earlier family functions with the Mays were always my favourite event of the year. They were always more fun when they were held at any one of their houses, when events were hosted at mine there were always tense and rushed (I sometime got the feeling they didn't want to be there). When I entered primary school, I was so excited because my cousins on the May side would be attending the same school. My family name was known, I felt like belonged to a royal family. Little did I know when I started attending the school my family would pretend they didn't know me. They would look the other way and keep on walking. Now I won't label all my cousins on that side as rude. Rob and Sean were younger than me and attended the same school. We spent weekends together and played (thinking back now seriously weird) mind tricks on people. There was also a couple who didn't attend the school at all, they were ones I saw occasionally while growing up (maybe once, if luckily twice a year).
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There were two of them who now make my skin crawl with how fake they always acted around me. It really is sad considering one of them was born with the same medical condition as my brother and I. Keith and I were so close at first, we would have treatments together, sleepovers. We were best friends for a while, we both understood what the other one was going through. Until we went to the same school together, and I wasn't 'cool' enough for him to even acknowledge. That really did hurt, when I realised that and stopped going out of my way to make him talk to me, he hasn't really talked to me since. At my Dads funeral all Keith could do was smile at me. Out of everyone in my life he knew the type of life I had lived. I wanted a hug, acknowledgment that he understood my pain. But no. I felt like they were wiping me from the family. I do always wonder if they think of me, but my Mother did a fantastic job with her sick mind games, emotionally torture (she had been in my ear about the May family for years) and convinced me they despised me, that I was nothing to them. It hurts me deeply now that due to my mental state and extremely negative opinions about myself I started to believe all the nasty, soul crushing things my Mother was stating.
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I did start to notice some cracks when I was about nine years old. That was the year of the first May funeral I attended. My grandfather Fred, now I don't remember much about him as a person, but I do remember a lot of time I spent with him. My young childhood memories from the May side are somewhat cloudy, and are deep, deep memories that I am not too sure if I want to delve on into. I could end up rocking in a corner calling for my Humphrey Bear teddy with my thumb in my mouth for all I know.
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I noticed there was a massive divide in my family at that age. It occasionally felt like forced gatherings and as the years progressed my Mum informed me her and Dad were never invited to family parties or gatherings that we were lucky if an invitation got extended our way. She used to say we were always forgotten. It hurt that she could say this and would name off things we were forgotten from. But my Dad was always a non-confrontational man with his family. He liked to keep the peace and take whatever family time was offered to him. My honest opinion, they knew my Mums bullshit. They may have not liked her views and opinions on certain things, or they may have just disliked her as a person but seemed to be where the issues played. Due to her actions, words and manipulation she pushed onto the children, I felt like the black sheep family.
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A lot of my memories from a young age as I have previously said are blurry, But I was a very sick child. Most of my memories are from hospital and doctor rooms, a lot of the friends I made along the way are not alive today. I spent weeks in hospital as a child and teenager becoming best friends with the kids all round me at the Royal Children's Hospital. None of my friends new where I was, my family did (several times). A lot of the people I have met in my life were living two lives like I was. We were experts at putting on a fake face and battling through what we needed to at the time. Some of my own family to this day will still not know how to explain what medical condition I have, except maybe Keith on my Dads side. As he lived with it to.
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So, going through school with the family members who would prefer to pretend I don't exist than say hello, lying to every friend I have about my hospital stays and been the prime person people start rumours about created me. The easily bullied, not easily fucked with Harley May. At some point along the way a big chunk of me died and we will get to that but for now let's just keep it simple. I had to learn to be strong for myself from a young age, so yes I have some anger issues, but it is my anger that helped me survive at a young age getting bulled in the playground for been 'poo girl', the girl who gets special treatment, is always away, always sick with tubes coming out of here. In the 90's you had to know how to stand up for yourself or you were not going to survive. I thought it would be easier been in a school with family, but it only made it harder when two of them would be the creator of the rumours.
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I felt as if I couldn't trust my own blood so what chance would I ever have of finding any friends I could let in, really in. There is only one person in my life who knows everything about me and that is not anyone in my immediate family. Writing all of this is a way of letting go (recommended by professionals) but I am the greatest at self-destructing when things seem to be going smoothly and on track.
**
Before the I dive into the deep and emotional stories of my family let me first explain some of the most precious memories I have. The good memories, from both sides of the family. These are the memories that make we want to feel again, open my heart and let people see me for me. In true Harley form I always shut them feeling down quickly because when I have emotions, they are always all or nothing, I do not have a middle (which I am working on). I also only feel certain emotions which change depending on the situation and environment. I am a hard cookie to understand that is for sure.
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Closing my eyes and thinking about one of my happiest memories, it would have to be Bayside. Now most people would consider that a pretty boring place to visit or holiday, my grandparents lived there (my mums side the Duncan's). Their house was close to the beach, had a road that did a blocky to a park with a playground. Most of the happy times at this place were spent with my cousins. Marty, Lisa, Dean, and Jeremy. Riding our bikes around the block, walking to the milk bar down on the beach. The imaginations used to run wild in the backyard of that house. We used to play tennis on the street and discuss our hopes and dreams.
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Down at Bayside Beach there was they Yacht club which my Pa was a part of, can I explain to what which aspects of it he was involved in...no. I was never told much about my parents lives and upbringings, it's a little bit of a mystery to me. I do that that he was involved in the Yachting part. My Pa (Jack) loved his boats from what I can remember. He used to teach people how to sail. He used to keep his boat in his shed or at the Yacht Club in Bayside. Whenever he would go missing anyone in the family would know where he was hiding out, in his boat or out on the water on any boat. My memories of Bayside are a little cloudy as I haven't been there in nine years. I remember old creaky floors upstairs in the Club house, a look out veranda where my Dad used to go to smoke his ciggies. The small canteen which always had a locked door there was a door next to it that went down the back staircase to the outside. So many family photos were taken around the undercover BBQ area in the corner, it was close to the walkway to the beach and right near the club house so we could run around and have fun everywhere.
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As the Years went on more cousin were born (Billie, Parker and Eden) they started to enjoy the fun times in Bayside. Not as much as the rest of the family as they lived in a different state and only visited occasionally. When they were around for family events and parties it was a lot more eventful, or some may say entertaining. Some of the ladies in in on my Mums side liked to drink quiet a lot of wine on certain occasions. That happened to be my Aunty Beth and Nanna Priscilla, this is where I first learnt there were different levels of intoxication. The fun-loving entertainer, the deep and meaningful, the I love you so much, the harsh and nasty and then the crying blubbering mess. We will get more into that part of the family drama and fun a bit later. It does co-insides with a lot of other points and opinions I must share on alcohol and other peoples so dark judgmental opinions later.
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My grandparents' house in Bayside is one of my fondest memories. It ended quickly though, now it might be because of life choices at the time that I don't remember but the house was there and then gone very quickly. I don't remember been told that it was up for sale or having any last opportunity with all the cousin to go down and share one last adventure with each other. I guarantee that most of us would have jumped on the idea, I cannot name any one of us that hated the place. Some of use reference it as cold, but the cold never stopped us from having fun. I do know on this statement I am about to make that most of my family share the same feelings and memories. There was nothing quite like seeing our Pa reach into that kitchen cupboard and get that biscuit jar. Every single one of us would get excited at the site of Anzacs or shortbreads. There are no words to describe the feelings that the memories of that Beach house gave me. I can at least say it makes me feel warm and reminds me of a time when there were no worries in the world.
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I can't remember a lot of my family events or parties from the May side. It's not like I have some dark scary memories I can't uncover. I just have no recollection, I can remember random things but that could be because I have photo proof, who knows? I'm not too sure if I have an 'Eidetic Memory' in certain ways or if I have listened to other stories of my childhood so much, I have Memory Implantation. But studies have shown that photographs are memory triggers, they trigger buried memories you'd instantly know, although you may have never recalled that memory before. I also have a brain that likes to remember pointless crap that never needs to be remembered. Like the show that was on TV that day, the song playing in the background, the cocktails been made or Uncle Isaac's short temper that day. Random things.
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I do have some happy memories from my Dads side, most of them were happy until I became extremely depressed, emotional manipulated and secluded. Anyway, as previously mentioned things are hazed. The earliest memories I have from the May side is sleepovers with my cousins. Either at their houses or my parents. Now that I am older, I know why there were so many random house guests, sadly there was some deep emotional issues. They did well hiding it from the children at the start. They kind of forgot that even though we were young, once we could speak, we could also understand, so we all understood a lot of the arguments either between the siblings or the married couples. Regardless of the parental situations when we were young, we used to have fun. I remember my cousins Hamish, Rob, Travis and Sean used to be regular house guests. We would watch movies, play with barbies and action men and create some out their story lines for the characters we were role playing either with the them tragic 90's dolls or when running amuck in the backyard.
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My earliest memory of the May family is of my Grandparents house (Fred and Margaret's), I can't remember a hell of a lot; a round knitted rug on a carpeted floor with a round wooden table full of empty VB cans and an old glass ash tray, the smell of stale beer, old school cigarette smoke (they smell and taste different these days. I cannot be the only person that thinks that) and that old people smell. As bad as all that sentence sounds, all of them smells and memories sooth me. That is one of the main things I remember about my Gran and Grandad, certain smells and scents. I was two when my Nan passed so I don't remember her at all, many of my cousin do but as I have mentioned earlier I do not have a massive amount of memories from an incredibly young age with this family (compared to my Mums side). Saying the smell sooths, me may seem a little weird to some people, the old pub smell (back when people used to smoke inside) is what reminds me of my grandparents. I was never going out anywhere when smoking inside was legal, but I have worked in hospitality most of my life and them smells mixed together trigger memories and feelings that come rushing to the surface that I cannot explain.
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Most of the other May family memories are from Christmas as that was the only thing my Mum let me be a part of and the occasional birthday (it was generally always Jesse's). They started off as fun, we all got along then everything changed with age. Out of the whole May side I had been invited to one wedding. Is it an overly big deal? No, but it did hurt at the time. Mind you the only one of the weddings I was invited to, I flew from interstate and I would have moved mountains to guarantee I didn't miss it. It to this day is still the only Wedding I was been invited to and attended. I lived by the motto that you; love and support you know matter what, that you always invited blood before friends. I am so grateful to Jesse for extending me and invitation and allowing me to be a part of his wedding.
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My Dad had just passed away, not only was the diagnosis of the cancer sudden, so was his deterioration and death. The May family did what they do in times of need, they gather together to show each other love and affection. They all have their own opinion of me now. Not many people in my life noticed, but this was the time that all self-respect and self-worth on my behalf was lost. I had already had a tough situation happen that changed my attitude and outlook on life, but the medical issues with my Dad and my Mother telling me I was getting rejected from his family had pushed me too far. I became a shell of the person I used to be; it had been building for a while. I had a lot of unresolved issues. So, I did whatever I needed to do from that point on to try and make myself feel alive. The things that worked are what parents have nightmares about.
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I craved love and attention, I needed to be reassured that everything was going to be okay. I Harley May am the best at running away from hard situations, I excel in ignoring things and would get high distinctions in been a cold-hearted bitch. I am not proud to admit what I did during this section of my life, looking back now I still do not judge myself on my choices though. I handled situations the best I could, the way I had to, to survive, to not drown. I left, moved back interstate when all my family needed me close, my Dad needed me close. Now before people get to opinionated, I came back every possibility I could. My explanation to my family was cold hearted, but I couldn't honestly tell them the reason why I needed to leave, why I could only be there sometimes. Looking back now it would have probably helped the situation and the aftermath arguments, but we all live and learn from our mistakes. For me though I didn't learn until I hit my very first epic self-destruction.
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Back in my earlier days if I was asked to define family, I would describe it as a group of people, who generally love, trust, care about and look out for each other. Families have a bond, that cannot be broken but they can also be damaging and hurtful. I found this out the hard way with my own Mother.
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Apart from two of the May's, I haven't spoken to my Dads side of the family in 689 days. In that 689 days I have reached out to my cousin Jesse and my aunty Kelly apologising for my behaviour. Mending the relationship is a priority in my life, I was an idiot for allowing my Mother to convince me they hated me and that I was not apart of the May clan anymore since my Dad died. Peter May was my Dad, my hero, I will forever and always be a May and now that I am stronger than ever no one can convince me otherwise.
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