The Heart Of The Matter
It took me years to figure out exactly where my disorders came from. What fueled them exactly? What issues were they tied to?
You'd think these would be easy questions to answer, but they weren't, and searching for their answers was more painful than I can articulate.
Like most secrets, mine were shrouded underneath years of lies. Before I could get to the heart of the matter, I had to identify these lies and confront them.
If I were to try to draw a picture of my emotional state most of the time, it would look like a double-helix. Rarely is one feeling ever in isolation. Rather it is irrevocably bound to another.
The result?
A constant state of inner turmoil and confusion.
In a nutshell, I have a powerful love/hate relationship with almost everything in my life. It is difficult for me to decide once and for all that someone or something has no value and to completely rid myself of it. So I end up dragging things along in the hopes that (a) the person will do something so unforgivable I can finally justify cutting them out of my life or (b) they will do something so wonderful that I can know in my heart, 100%, that they are good and an asset in my life.
It starts with my family.
I hate my father. I feel most assuredly that many of the things he did to me as a child forever changed the adult I became. I have wished him dead for as long as I can remember and have a lot of guilt about that. Just because I hate him doesn't mean there are others in his life who don't think he's wonderful. For my "death wish" to come true would mean that others lives would be negatively impacted and that's something I don't want. But on the other hand, I love my father for things he showed me. I am a better teacher because of some of things he instilled in me as a child. He is the reason I love to travel, love the symphony, live theatre and classical music. But he is also the reason I hate my body, the catalyst behind my eating disorder and my self-injury, and the number one reason I think about death a good part of the time. Why? Because in death I know he won't be there. Alive, I am continually reminded of him and all that he stole from my life.
I have the same sick relationship with my mother. On the one hand I love her for being just the kind of mother every child dreams of having. She was an excellent caretaker, a very generous spirit and someone who relished each and every opportunity to show me how much she loved being my mother. But on the other hand I hate her. I hate her for not doing more to protect me from my father growing up. I hate her for not wanting to fight for her life as much as I feel like I have had to fight for mine. And more than anything, I hate that she and I cannot have a real, honest and non-judgemental adult conversation. Her first reaction, in almost every situation, is one of defensiveness. The result has been a complete breakdown in our ability to do anything but talk about life's little trivialities and the weather.
I wish I could say things were different with the other relationships in my life, but I can't.
I can't say things are different with my job.
I can't say things are different with my friends.
I can't say things are different with the way I see myself.
I HATE not being able to decide what I feel and know that it's right. And where these two feelings meet, is where all of my hate, fear and dark thoughts live.
I want to be happy and know that's what I am. I want to be sad and then be in a place where I can move past it.
And I want to be rid of all of the anger and hate I have in my heart. For all of the therapy, the writing, the speaking and the introspection I have done, it lives, and grows, still.
When people ask who I really am I really don't know what to say and I sure don't know how to feel about that fact.
You'd think these would be easy questions to answer, but they weren't, and searching for their answers was more painful than I can articulate.
Like most secrets, mine were shrouded underneath years of lies. Before I could get to the heart of the matter, I had to identify these lies and confront them.
If I were to try to draw a picture of my emotional state most of the time, it would look like a double-helix. Rarely is one feeling ever in isolation. Rather it is irrevocably bound to another.
The result?
A constant state of inner turmoil and confusion.
In a nutshell, I have a powerful love/hate relationship with almost everything in my life. It is difficult for me to decide once and for all that someone or something has no value and to completely rid myself of it. So I end up dragging things along in the hopes that (a) the person will do something so unforgivable I can finally justify cutting them out of my life or (b) they will do something so wonderful that I can know in my heart, 100%, that they are good and an asset in my life.
It starts with my family.
I hate my father. I feel most assuredly that many of the things he did to me as a child forever changed the adult I became. I have wished him dead for as long as I can remember and have a lot of guilt about that. Just because I hate him doesn't mean there are others in his life who don't think he's wonderful. For my "death wish" to come true would mean that others lives would be negatively impacted and that's something I don't want. But on the other hand, I love my father for things he showed me. I am a better teacher because of some of things he instilled in me as a child. He is the reason I love to travel, love the symphony, live theatre and classical music. But he is also the reason I hate my body, the catalyst behind my eating disorder and my self-injury, and the number one reason I think about death a good part of the time. Why? Because in death I know he won't be there. Alive, I am continually reminded of him and all that he stole from my life.
I have the same sick relationship with my mother. On the one hand I love her for being just the kind of mother every child dreams of having. She was an excellent caretaker, a very generous spirit and someone who relished each and every opportunity to show me how much she loved being my mother. But on the other hand I hate her. I hate her for not doing more to protect me from my father growing up. I hate her for not wanting to fight for her life as much as I feel like I have had to fight for mine. And more than anything, I hate that she and I cannot have a real, honest and non-judgemental adult conversation. Her first reaction, in almost every situation, is one of defensiveness. The result has been a complete breakdown in our ability to do anything but talk about life's little trivialities and the weather.
I wish I could say things were different with the other relationships in my life, but I can't.
I can't say things are different with my job.
I can't say things are different with my friends.
I can't say things are different with the way I see myself.
I HATE not being able to decide what I feel and know that it's right. And where these two feelings meet, is where all of my hate, fear and dark thoughts live.
I want to be happy and know that's what I am. I want to be sad and then be in a place where I can move past it.
And I want to be rid of all of the anger and hate I have in my heart. For all of the therapy, the writing, the speaking and the introspection I have done, it lives, and grows, still.
When people ask who I really am I really don't know what to say and I sure don't know how to feel about that fact.