...practically everything/one else.
But who's going to take care of me?
That's what I want and need right now. Someone to love me, hold me, stroke my hair, wrap their arms around me and whisper that it's going to be okay. It's going to be okay...
Be there at my side when I get overwhelmed at the thought of having to go through a large grocery shopping trip. Urge me out of bed in the morning because getting out of bed is hard again. Sit with me during quiet times late at night so I'm not alone... Nudge me into doing the things I need to do because once I get overwhelmed like this, everything starts to fall apart at the seams!
I know that... that is insanely stupid. I'm going on 27 years old and inside I feel like an abandoned little girl just so lost and alone but expected to take care of things. It's a like my childhood come to haunt me all over again except for now all I see is this fat, ugly, old woman who stares back at me and I don't even know what to think of her...
I'm hardly making it through class right now. It's final week for it and the final project is stressing me out. I'm behind on things I wanted to do, I just feel like curling up in bed and crying for hours and hours on end. I have energy to do things now, but being overwhelmed just shuts me down, breaks me up, destroys me inside and no one fully realizes how much I am suffering so... so... much..
Daily, I think of ways to die.
I haven't actually thought out a full plan, still, actually. Yes. I have thought out of ones, for moments, quickly, then I realize that most of those most likely wouldn't kill me... So I'd just end up suffering more.
The kids would suffer.
But they suffer because I'm not the best parent, because I'm not who I envisioned when I was a kid.
Before everything fell apart.
Before my bio dad landed in jail a couple weeks before Christmas when I was 8.
I came home from school and there it was, he was gone, mom was in tears. No one would tell me WHY.
I was, a 'Daddies girl', a Princess in a world that seemed perfect and happy. Been crowned queen in child's beauty pageants. Thin, blond, green eyes, sensitive yes, but nothing near as bad as I have gotten over the years. Were everything fell further and further away from me.
Eventually, mom wouldn't let us talk to him when he called from prison. He was gone, we lost our furniture, our house, and I had to lie to my friends. Why didn't he come to school anymore? Why didn't he come and have lunch with me and a few friends and order pizza for us?
He was on a business trip, far away. That was the excuse... How do you tell 3rd graders that your dad is in jail? You just don't. There was no words, I had no idea when he'd get out. I just knew that I was lost, broken, and from there.. Life turned to crap.
We moved to a house on a busy road. Someone broke in while we were moving in, and stole some things. Roaches galore in the place. The upstairs had something wrong with it, something that had to be fixed? Something scary.
The door to the rooms up there was in my bedroom. I had nightmares daily. Something wanted to get me, something, something, someone? I have no idea. I started wrapping myself tightly in my blankets. So I was covered. Toe tips, to the top of my head. Didn't matter that this was Southern California and it was hot most of the time. I had to be completely covered just to sleep. I wasn't safe, I was alone, scared, miserable.
Mom was never the overly loving type. She was the type that would get frustrated when you woke up with a nightmare and wanted to sleep next to her in her bed. Needing protection from the evils that plagued your dreams... Then shame the next morning when her frustration continued and I were "being a baby."
Near the end of that summer, we moved. We left the majority of our things behind. Clothes, toys, bedding, everything. We moved with what mom could pack into her station wagon and drove away... Leaving everything I'd ever known behind. Crushing me even further. We moved to "be closer to her family." Which started more of the suffering and pain. We moved into a 2 bedroom apartment with my uncle and (then) aunt. 7 people, 2 bedroom apartment. Four children. We slept on mattresses in a bedroom that I don't remember having a bedroom light. Mom slept on a mattress in the living room.
Everyone made fun of the poor overly emotional me. I was the butt of jokes and an emotional punching bag.
Eventually we moved out of there, to an apartment that was basically a 1 bedroom, with part of the living room sectioned off for a second room. The place was tiny, in a basement of a place that had druggies, and often had homeless breaking into the building to sleep in the pile of discarded couches in the laundry room. Which wasn't far from our door that actually went into the building itself.
The worse everything got, the worse I started regressing emotionally, mentally... physically at times too. I started having issues making it to the bathroom, taking a shower (one bathroom, and drama if I spent too long wanting to get clean... I eventually had issues motivating myself to deal with the stress it caused.), it was awful, it was embarrassing. Compounded worse by the lack of ability to wash clothes regularly, or get clothes that fit. I started puberty and didn't have deodorant, or pads for awhile. I used wadded up toilet paper and prayed that no one noticed how awful I was getting. I wouldn't brush my hair and often ended up with one big dreadlock of my long fine blond hair.
No one seemed to notice or care about the suffering of all of us. I wont say that I was the only one that suffered there. Mom got a job, went to school, and got a boyfriend whom she would stay with for anyplace from a day, to three. Sometimes not returning home until 2-4AM. Coming in to find the house not clean to her standards, where she'd wake us up and make us clean. Not caring if it was a school night. She didn't help with homework, and wasn't there even if I had needed it. Particularly stressed out during 6th grade year. I acted out. I didn't care about Canada! I decided I didn't care about learning about it, doing the homework or anything else. I got my first C ever, was yelled at, grounded, and was so so disgustingly bad for allowing it to happen. One assignment. ONE C.. EVER in my entire academic history, and I was bad yet again.
I didn't care at first, I didn't care to learn it, so I didn't. I was hormonal, I was hurting, I was alone, emotionally abused by my own mother for my lack of emotional skin, emotionally abused by my oldest sister for being everything from 'too skinny' 'too smart' 'too stupid' 'too short' 'too young' 'too emotional' 'too loud' 'too lazy' too.... Everything. Nothing was good enough. Nothing I did to win kindness brought anything but emotional pain and suffering.
Of course, often as younger siblings do, mine followed suit with my oldest sister and acted the same.
I know they suffered too. Once my oldest sister started acting out and sleeping around at the age of 12/13 (confirmed by an abortion record from a clinic that she'd left behind in some random stuff behind our dresser years later.), it was ME left to 'raise' my brother and sister. One of which acted out in ways that I didn't understand, and lied to get me in trouble. The other who was a young version of my older sister with the mouth that would put a drunken sailor to shame. We are all, horridly, disgustingly damaged. Yet I'm the only one seeking help.
How DO you manage that? I learned to cook and bake by the seat of my pants. Had to try and make sure the apartment was clean enough to her standards or else suffer a poor night of sleep. Had to make sure homework was taken care of. Talk to the school counselor when my brother acted out, as somehow it came down to me. I attended class parties and took days off of middle school to help with them. Because I wanted them to have someone there. I didn't want them to feel so rejected like I did. My grades didn't start suffering again until I missed school after trying to kill myself.
At the start of middle school I hacked off my bottom of my butt length blond hair, and dyed it auburn. Without permission. I'd worked for some money from someone, and spent the $2.20 on a box of Auburn hair dye from a Wal*Mart I was at with a friend. I bought baby bottles to drink from to sooth myself when I couldn't handle how I was feeling at night. When I lay there in bed, unable to sleep, just hurting unbearably. I was not bottlefed as a baby. But I grew tired of my usual suck/chewing on my thumb that I never recalled doing as a small child.. but as I started regressing..I started needing to do.
Time and time again I broke. I cut myself, burned myself, swallowed a fair bit of Tylenol praying that I wouldn't wake up in the morning. When my allergy to a Aspirin was discovered, I went on trying to find ways to use that, or anything that said not to take it if you were allergic to Aspirin... In attempt to never wake up again. I took showers at the hottest temperature the water would go, until it was cold, when no one was home but me... So I could feel something other than numb and that painfully cold tight feeling inside.
I had frustrating hormonal problems and no one I could talk to them about. My period would last anyplace from a month to a month and a half, then disappear for two months. Yes. I'd bleed for that long. But I didn't have a mom to talk to. She wasn't there. She didn't notice my stealing, didn't notice that for years I never got a winter jacket. Clear up north here, where there is snow. No snow boots, no snow pants, no warm jacket. I was a skinny girl having to wear a large womans sweaters that I'd take from her room just to try and layer and keep warm.
I wore thin canvas shoes one winter, that had holes, they got soaked daily, and would never be fully dry by morning. I'd scratch at my head and arms to cause sores to pick. One time one on my head got infected, and I ended up having to put antibiotics on it after I made myself a doctors appointment, that I went to alone, yes alone at 12. I got laughed at, as the ointment made my hair greasy looking in a couple of spots. Before leaving middle school I was put in the hospital for being a danger to myself, twice. The total time was just about three months I believe.
I started running away not long after that. I'd get overwhelmed with something or another, and run away. I couldn't do it anymore, I couldn't be there, I couldn't take care of them anymore. It was run, or kill myself. I'd never managed to kill myself. How could those 30 500MG Acetaminophen not kill me?! I wanted them to so desperately.
One winter I ran away shoeless. No shoes, just ran, I didn't say anything to anyone on my way out. I split, and spent over a week going from house to house of former friends of my older sister who reached out to me after seeing how much I suffered under her and how badly I was doing. My mothers angry boyfriend, who had many times before threatened to beat me with a belt when I called due to insane sibling drama and bs... as well as lies that I'd done something so horrendously wrong that the only solution was to come and beat me... Was the one who picked me up when they finally figured out where I was that time. He yelled at me the majority of the car trip to my mom's work. Where I sat. Not being able to talk much as she glared at me while she worked. I wanted to die again.
Nothing but trouble, nothing good, nothing but bad, disgusting, trouble, not worth it. The worst daughter in the entire world wrapped up into one 4'11" girl. Me, nothing good, always bad. Not pretty, not smart, not funny, there was nothing good about me.
She took me home after work, after a long lecture, and went back to her boyfriends house. The same thing all over again, nothing changed... nothing ever changed...
Discovering the internet was the 'best' thing that ever happened to me. There, I had friends who didn't care what I looked like, or that I was poor, they didn't think I was dumb or stupid, and I loved them. Every last one of them. I've lost them, every last one of them. Even the one I dated for so many years. The one that time and time again came in and out of my life. I needed him, so badly, I needed him more than I could explain and that wasn't very good. It caused problems, it stressed him out, I acted out when he had times where he was just too busy for me. I fucked up an amazing thing when him, and it took me until not even a year ago to "get over" the first person I ever loved. Him, I still miss him. God do I still miss him. Do I still just want a hug from him. I want to see him ONCE, face to face. Just once, just once... I never will. As he wont contact me anymore. I'm 'over' him, but still not. Still not. It was just another... pain... another loss... another slice into what was left of my core.
Just like everyone else. He left me.
Abandoned. Not good enough for anyone to want to keep. To want to take care of. To want to give a damn about....
I'll continue this more, later... There's so much more to tell. So many more details to elaborate on.... It's just near impossible to touch it in one entry.
I still have a final assignment to have finished by end of day tomorrow. Ah.. Today. Saturday. Since it's now Midnight 09.
I'm feeling particularly small, lonely, needy, lost, disgusting, hopeless, useless, sick to my stomach, and miserable right now... I wish I had a bottle... I'd just put my ice water in it.. and go lay down in bed. Curled up in a ball, wrapped around my body pillow that could really use replacing... and sleep. Or try to. Soothe myself into sleep so that tomorrow, hopefully tomorrow. I can get on top of the laundry that is taking over my bedroom. Unclutter something, make something, do my homework, work on my hobby. Work on my homework for therapy.
God help me. I need BF here, I need him here here, for keeps. Not just three weeks. So that he comes home from work each night. So that I'm not alone. I can't do this right now. I can't do alone. I just can't. And while Ex is in "not a giant douche" mode ever since I talked to him about how crappy I was feeling after how he'd been acting the past few days... and how he lay on my bed and let me curl up at his side because he noticed how just... bad I was by the look in my eyes. While he's actually bought dinner the last two nights since I'm 'gone' right now.... He's leaving soon.
He's leaving, because he needs to for both him and me... This situation is no good.
But it's another leaving. It's another just me. Left to try and figure all this out on my own. Ah god what do I do with myself?
I feel beyond fixing. Beyond it. 7 Sessions within therapy and I'm no closer. I'm in so much pain inside that I can't get anyone to understand. Because they just don't understand how I could be in that much pain. Ex doesn't get it, he doesn't know 100% about my past and doesn't know how much day to day I suffer internally. I don't think he ever will. I'm not sure I could ever, ever, get him to understand why things are so difficult for me the way they are...