one shy of a baker's dozen
sometimes i stumble across old emails i wrote when things were bad, and i don't remember feeling that way or doing those things, and reading it feels like reading about something that happened to someone else, feelings that someone else felt. i can't tell if i've dissociated, if i'm still dissociating? if i'm as at peace with it or as well-adjusted as i think i've become. i think i'm okay. i feel okay. but my body's been doing weird stress suppression things for me since i don't even remember when, so i can't tell what's what anymore.
i'm going to give myself an ulcer one day and not even know when or how i did it.
sometimes i look at my mother and wonder why, despite all the time that's passed and the ability to understand where she's coming from and why she does what she does, and an appreciation for everything she's trying to do, i can't find it in myself to forgive her.
when my sister left to study in the states last august i ACTUALLY SAT IN MY ROOM AND CRIED because i was like NOW NO ONE KNOWS. NOW NO ONE WHO CAN HELP ME KNOWS
i don't remember that despair, but it's like a physical hit to the gut, just reading this. i don't like how i sound in this. the girl who wrote this must still be in me somewhere, because she can't forget it. forgiveness feels like an invitation to be hurt again, to be that lonely and helpless, and that caught off guard by it. the sudden realisation that i don't trust people to be there, that i count on them flaking, or disappointing me, when i need them the most, that this is probably why i need to deal with things on my own and have it sorted in my head before i can share how i'm feeling with anyone else. i do the caretaking because no one else deserves to feel that way.
maybe that makes me broken, or damaged, but letting go of it feels like it would lead to a fundamental shift in the fabric of who i've become. and i don't want that. i like who i am, for the most part, warts and all, but i'm built on unsteady foundations and i'm still trying to figure out how to keep it all from toppling. sometimes people can't love you the way you need them to, and that doesn't make them bad, but it does mean you have to teach yourself to be enough. that's been the hardest lesson to learn, that maybe i'll have to spend the rest of my life learning.
this feels like it's been a pretty dark year, but it doesn't seem so bad, looking back on it all. things will get better at some point. everything is going to be okay.
i'm going to give myself an ulcer one day and not even know when or how i did it.
sometimes i look at my mother and wonder why, despite all the time that's passed and the ability to understand where she's coming from and why she does what she does, and an appreciation for everything she's trying to do, i can't find it in myself to forgive her.
when my sister left to study in the states last august i ACTUALLY SAT IN MY ROOM AND CRIED because i was like NOW NO ONE KNOWS. NOW NO ONE WHO CAN HELP ME KNOWS
i don't remember that despair, but it's like a physical hit to the gut, just reading this. i don't like how i sound in this. the girl who wrote this must still be in me somewhere, because she can't forget it. forgiveness feels like an invitation to be hurt again, to be that lonely and helpless, and that caught off guard by it. the sudden realisation that i don't trust people to be there, that i count on them flaking, or disappointing me, when i need them the most, that this is probably why i need to deal with things on my own and have it sorted in my head before i can share how i'm feeling with anyone else. i do the caretaking because no one else deserves to feel that way.
maybe that makes me broken, or damaged, but letting go of it feels like it would lead to a fundamental shift in the fabric of who i've become. and i don't want that. i like who i am, for the most part, warts and all, but i'm built on unsteady foundations and i'm still trying to figure out how to keep it all from toppling. sometimes people can't love you the way you need them to, and that doesn't make them bad, but it does mean you have to teach yourself to be enough. that's been the hardest lesson to learn, that maybe i'll have to spend the rest of my life learning.
this feels like it's been a pretty dark year, but it doesn't seem so bad, looking back on it all. things will get better at some point. everything is going to be okay.