It's one of those days where I can feel the monster inside, where it's so big it's almost bursting out of me. Screaming. Where I want to scratch my face and rip off my skin to let it out. I want to hurt myself because what's inside is hurting me...I want to hurt it back. But it's me. Confusing? I guess I am.
What am I really? What do YOU see when you look at me, when you listen to me speak, when you read what I write? Who am I in your mind? Do you see a pretty face...or do you see ugliness? Do you think of a "good girl" when you hear my name...or a poisonous one? Do you remember the things I did for you out of kindness...or the things I said out of anger? Or sadness or pain. Does an apology and an explanation make things better...or does it just make me pathetic? Do you see me...or the monster? Aren't we one in the same?
Some people see both. One one day, the other another day. They switch back and forth...or treat me as a good human at first, then treat me like a bug on the bottom of their shoe. I'm worthless, unwanted, a mistake, a failure. Boring, manipulative, flawed, a lost cause, weak, sad, bad bad bad. Is that me? Or am I the other things: honest, kind, loving, supportive, encouraging, beautiful, strong. I'm a lot of things...and I'm very few things. Just depends on the perspective. Mine too.
"I don't wanna hear you sssssssay it..."
"Save your breath, I know the story, I've heard it all before..."
"I don't care if you wait before you tear me apart. Look me in the eye...and lie lie lie lie."
When you've been told something enough times, you start to believe it. Even if you know it's not true, even if you talked yourself out of it before. THEY all believe it...so it must be true, right? I can look in the mirror and see what they were making fun of...so that's true..? I can reread my words and see what they got mad at...so that's true..? I know who I am. I know all the flaws and issues and failures and mistakes and bad points. No one has to tell me about myself. No one has to make a list, a public list, of all the things wrong with me. No one has to tell me why I'm not farther ahead in my life. Or the traits that make me unattractive. No one has to tell me that if I wasn't so quiet in school I could have been popular...or that if I wasn't so quiet my whole entire life, maybe I'd have more friends or be married. No one has to tell me why no man will ever want me or want to have kids with me. You don't think all those thoughts haven't gone through my head already? Maybe I shouldn't say certain things or maybe I should say other things. Maybe I should hide the bad and only show the good. Who cares if it eats away at me until I die? At least I would be what everyone wants. Give into the guilt and move back to that city...I'll be around family...doesn't matter if it kills me, if I have to live with the never-ending anxiety again. I'll be doing what they think I should. Drive hours and hours to a concert alone while I'm sick and have no money? Ok, that will prove my worthiness...and if I die in that neighborhood or get hurt or pass out on the road...well, at least I did what I was supposed to do.
I'm mean, nasty. A bad friend, a horrid person. I'm the monster.
I have anger inside of me. That's from holding emotions in for 30 years. That's from keeping a constant game face on and pretending that I was ok when I wasn't. Stopping myself from passing out, from throwing up when I was sick. Smiling, smiling. Except my eyes. But who cares. If you don't want to see, you won't.
I'm the one who's supposed to keep everything together. Give, help, assist, do everything just right. Keep doing and doing until I fall. Get up and keep doing and doing until I break. Cry quietly and shake...then pull it together and keep doing. And doing. Working hard...while appearing lazy. Being strong...while appearing weak. I'm tired of falling. I'm tired of the slaps...of being kicked down. Look at her there, on the floor. I'm better than her...I'm bigger than her. She can't do anything. That's how I feel...when they say the words, when they look at me that way. I can't even tell you who...it's just my life. It's always been my life. People have hurt me, they've wanted to. I have records...so I'm not making it up. Diaries since I was a kid. Maybe no one will understand the words but me. But I lived it. I lived through it. And so many times wish I didn't. Wondered why I didn't drown. Why...why didn't the darkness take me. Why didn't I have the strength and courage to finally, fatally, fix myself. I was weak then. I'm not now. But I'm not stupid either. So why should I take your advice [speaking to the world]? Why yours and not his? Why hers and not my own? Who knows best? Who has the better answer? If I say I don't want answers, I don't want that kind of help...can you respect it? Can you just be there and listen? Say something encouraging, say you believe in me...even if you disagree with me. Do you know how much goes unsaid? I don't like to hurt anyone. I keep so much to myself. Other people's secrets. My own thoughts. Things come out...things that need to and things that should stay hidden. But I don't say things to hurt. I say what I feel or think at the time. And yes, I will fight like a wounded animal if I feel attacked. I will fight like a protective mother bear if anyone I care about is being hurt. That's who I am. Look at me and see it.
I ask no one to like me. I ask no one to agree with me or share my beliefs. I have my own way of doing things -- in my life. If you cross over into my daily life, then I may want the relationship to be a certain way. I may want you to do certain things to make me feel secure, to show me that you care and that I can trust you. But I won't tell you what to believe or how to live your life. If you want help or advice, if you ask for it, I'll do my best to give you what you need. I'll go out of my way to show you how much I care. And if you don't know...ask me to explain. If I don't make sense, ask me to explain. If I get stubborn and start to argue, try to understand why...argue back if you have to. Just talk to me. Just be real.
Honesty doesn't mean cruelty. Telling someone a certain outfit doesn't flatter their figure or complexion isn't the same as calling someone a fat ugly slob. Asking me why I'm sad today isn't the same as telling me that I'm the most negative person you ever encountered. Asking me why I'm happy today isn't the same as calling me an imposter for not being depressed 24/7. Telling me I need to be slapped and get over my grief...well that's just wrong. And I won't go into what he said...or he said. It hurts...and probably always will. I don't forget...
Don't read this if you don't want to. Don't talk to me/write to me if you don't want to. Don't pretend to be my friend if you don't like me. Just stay away. I'll stay away from you. I don't go where I'm not wanted. And I've been told enough to know where I'm not wanted. I guess silence says the same. When you see someone everyday and they don't even acknowledge that you exist. When do you let go? A month, a year, 2 years? Sometimes it's hard to let go...even when they've been out of your life for longer than they were in it. My feelings don't disappear. I don't stop loving. And if you really want me to leave you alone...you'll have to say it. I respect boundaries. I don't like people to get too close, myself.
I can't stop feeling. But I don't have to watch it. I'm so tired of watching. I don't want to fall in love again and I don't want to have to get past it again. That pain is horrendous. I can't stop loving. But I don't want to be with "him" anymore. Not that way. A friend? Could we be? And maybe, maybe there is someone who feels something special for me. He is special...does he know? I'm afraid. Of what can be...but more afraid that I'll lose it all. That I'll mess it up. It's never all one person's fault...but I tend to blame myself for everything. Always. I don't like to hurt anyone. And I feel their pain regardless. So I'm not really evil, right?
I find so much joy in being around children. I know it's a pure love and I know I have it in me to be a good mother. There will be obstacles -- physical and mental, but I am so determined and I know I would do everything I could to make it work. On my own, alone. I will not let what he said, what they agreed, be truth. I'm better than this. I can be better. I have good role models for it. I know it's possible. God, I really know it's possible. Can you see it? Can you see me? There.
I'm tired. I'm done. Is it out now? Enough out so that I can go take a shower and eat...and sleep? Can I maybe sleep tonight? Well, if not, I just don't want to feel the screaming inside tonight. I don't want to hurt myself...I hold on so tightly to control. It's why people hate me -- the control, the stubborness, the defensive attitude. I can be bossy when I'm in charge. I can be many things. I am many things. I have hurt people...and there are some I wish I could hurt more. I've been jealous and envious and complained. I've whined and cried and said not so nice things. Maybe not mean compared to others, to most, but mean enough for me. I am a genuinely nice person. That's who I am most of the time. But there are days...or maybe just hours, where I just can't be nice. Where everything irritates me and I run out of patience. Where I feel misuderstood and attacked. I just can't keep quiet anymore. I don't regret that, I don't regret becoming a person who stands up for themselves. I don't regret standing up for others when they're being treated badly. I've lost a lot for both of those reasons. But I gained myself. I like that part of me. I am strong.
Maybe I'm too strong. Maybe I'm too much of some things and not enough of others. Ok. I agree. I hate the bad side of me too. But the difference is, you can walk away. For a day, for a lifetime. You can walk away. I can't. I'm stuck with me, my choices, my thoughts. You can give me advice...but are you willing to take the responsibility for my actions? Of course not. You'll say, well, it was your choice, you didn't have to do what I said. Or maybe I did it the wrong way. Maybe I'm always wrong. And you can walk away. If I destroy my life, if I destroy relationships, get fired for something someone else suggested I do, they won't get in trouble for it...they can walk away. It was my choice. I don't give advice. I don't want to be responsible for how someone else lives their life. Freedom. Choices.
You don't have to understand. You don't have to accept. No one does. And I know that the world, humanity, would be better off without me. Lots of people are living happier lives because I'm no longer in it. They forget. It's easy. Some remember...and they come back for another punch. I left you alone...why do you have to hurt me? But maybe they apologize. Well, I can't be the good girl all the time. Sometimes I can't forgive. Sometimes the pain is bigger than the apology. And if you've already proven that you view me in a certain way, that you'll treat me a certain way in this situation...I can't trust you. I would be stupid to trust someone who hurt me or abandoned me. Or believe that I'm...well, all those things he said.
I'm not talking about anyone. This is my blog, so it's about me...it's words coming out of me, from my heart and head. It's the world as I know it, situations as I see them. Skewed maybe, one-sided maybe. And maybe I actually do have people who have seen what I've seen, the way I've seen it - strangers even -...and so I'm not wrong. They're not just telling me nice things to be fake. They mean it, they believe it. I'm not crazy. I'm not evil. I'm just me. Many things. You can walk away. Be grateful for that. And live your life. I'm just trying to live mine. That's all. I'm just trying when I can. Just let me be. Let me erase, delete, start over, continue. It's my life, my page. Why can't I? Don't you? Whoever you are...whoever. I'm tired now. Just words. Don't give me words if you aren't going to back them up. You know I will. You know I will.
Maybe I can sleep. I'm just tired.
