My mother passed away nearly a year and a half ago and in coming to terms with the grief, I realize the feelings aren't as simple to sort through as I'd expected. On one hand is the obvious sadness but on the other, there's a pure sense of relief.

It's got me to thinking just how bad my childhood was, even though I didn't realize it at the time. I grew up in what would ostensibly qualify as a hoarder home, something that could've been featured on the "Buried Alive" flavor of the television show. We grew up in an extremely rural area and because of the condition of my home, I was raised in serious isolation. I'd get to spend time with someone my own age maybe less than half a dozen times during an entire year. I'd be lucky if I even saw someone my own age during summer break. Other than visits to my grandparents and the occasional trip to Walmart, I was trapped in those walls, together with the filth.

Animal waste, debris, garbage laying everywhere, not to mention upwards of 15 cats all roaming around the house, doing their business where they pleased. I don't mean to be so graphic but putting this out into words is as much for myself as it is for anyone else that might read this. Couple this with me being on the autistic spectrum and it was a recipe for a pretty damaged upbringing.

I'm not sure if it was just laziness or if my parents had issues of their own. My father had emotionally checked out of the situation so I think he just didn't care. My mother had serious attachment issues though and was way more open with me than what was appropriate, both in a physical and emotional sense. It really messed with my sense of what normal boundaries are supposed to be, and being on the spectrum hasn't really helped with that, either.

After I left home for college and got out in the world, I did my best to put as much distance as possible between that house and myself. I even got married straight out of college, not because I thought it was a good idea but it was the only way I could think of, to make sure my mother wasn't able to pull me back into that whole mess.

It wasn't till I got that first taste of life on my own that I realized how toxic my home life really was, and how much I'd missed out on. I see so many of my friends and coworkers who have a healthy and happy relationship with their families and I can't help but be and honestly a little jealous. I can't even imagine what a healthy family bond is supposed to look like.

As guilty as I feel for it, knowing my mother has passed on has taken a lot of the anxiety out of my life. I finally feel as though I've broken that cycle and I can actually look at unpacking all these issues and finding some kind of closure out of it all.

I guess I'm not really sure if there's a question in this post, or even just the hope that I'm not completely alone in having gone through something like this. Though it breaks my heart to think that anyone else should have to endure that sort of experience.