Below is a post I wrote and set in DRAFT last week sometime. I am trapped in a hell right now. In the past I have pushed for things from people who time and time again prove that is not who they are or what they are willing to give me. And I’ve been in what I simply refer to as “a situation” with someone now where my needs aren’t met.
When I say that I’m not talking physically/sexually. Albeit it would be nice to have someone who offered a comforting hug when I needed one, but he’d have to sense that in the first place and I have never seen that as a trait in him.
What I’m talking about though is validation, communication, some sign of fucking life. And in so pushing for that, I have become someone I can’t even stand to look at in the mirror anymore. I make myself sick. Oh, I resent him, but I hate myself more.
I have wasted so much time trying to control and twist someone else to what I want and need that I’ve now become old, tired, exhausted, without any satisfaction in life.
I can’t deny my anger toward him, and others. But my anger is mostly with myself. Maybe I didn’t know any different or better. Maybe I thought all this time that’s what I was supposed to do…struggle to get my what I needed and wanted from the people who were actually available to me, instead of kicking them to the curb when I realized they’d never fit into what I had hoped for myself.
More waking up to more painful things.
It’s only been crumbs for me. I was brainwashed into believing that’s all I was supposed to get. Otherwise it was selfish to even think I should have more.
So I fight…mostly with myself. I push them away, knowing I’m not satisfied. But I’m lonely so I pull them back in…if they’re willing.
In therapy this week we talked about B’s lack of ability to care about pretty much anything. I blame myself for a portion of that. But my blame also lies in the fact that I didn’t see everything I needed to see. I didn’t accept what was right in front of my eyes, time and time again. Not just with B but with just about every person I chose to attempt a close relationship with.
I also never really liked myself much so the idea of letting someone stay or get close was too scary. So although I was never much of a catch in my mind, I also settled for people in my life who didn’t treat me the way I needed because I didn’t (still don’t) think I deserved to be treated in any way but shitty. Which is why I sabotaged every relationship with a significant other and some friendships.
I’m now at the point where everything PISSES ME THE FUCK OFF! I’m a big fat fucking mess myself though. I want to blame everyone I know for the beat down I’ve received from every one of them. But where is that gonna get me?
OK they are blamed. Now what? I feel hate, I feel anger, frustration and rage. Now what?
Will any of them care, will any of them come to my rescue? Will any of them say, “Oh, ST, I’m really sorry what I put you through? Will B suddenly open up and tell me what he’s thinking and feeling? Will he suddenly become the validating man I need in my life?
No! Every answer is a big resounding NO!
So what’s left? Sit around and scowl, blame and rage? Eat my emotions by stuffing my face with all the junk food that I know is almost as detrimental to me as a drug habit?
Do I smoke and drink myself to death?
Because I can tell you this. If I don’t utilize these very difficult emotions, if I don’t find a way to see this toxic (becoming more toxic by the minute) situation as an opportunity instead of a prison, my life will certainly end in tragedy.
I’ve missed a lot of opportunities. I squandered many.
I think about a guy I dated a couple times in high school. A guy who noticed me before I even knew who he was. A guy who had many friends, felt comfortable around people, a popular guy, but also a really nice guy. I’d bet many needs would be met if things worked out.
If I’d taken a certain career path instead of making excuses that kept me from possible success, I’d have never met B. If I continued along that path, I would be well enough off right now to likely retire and not NEED anyone for financial help.
It’s like this parallel reality I didn’t get to experience. Anyway, below is the post I had in DRAFT.
Last night while I laid awake in bed, having a difficult time sleeping, for reasons I’m aware of, I noticed the tree outside my window. It wasn’t the first time I noticed the tree itself of course. I have loved that tree since we’ve moved in here.
I can’t remember exactly when, but within the year and a half we’ve been here, a tree cutting company came and cut a lot of the big branches at the top of the tree. There’s actually a whole row of trees along the front of the property next door. The one I can see outside my window, is just one of them.
You can see in my photos how the tree grew back small branches. What I noticed though for the first time, as I laid in bed looking out at the tree, is that these branches form what looks like bars for a cage. Even the imperfection and different directions they go in depicts perfectly how I’ve been feeling. Tangled and chaotic.
In this one (above) the branch coming upward from the bottom looks to me like an open wound. It represents th emotional open wounds I can still feel inside of me. The little branches seem to be growing out of that open sore, that keeps trying to heal, while at the same time those little branches also look like they could be going in the other direction, like poking sticks into the open wound. Those branches still form bars to a cage though, either way you look at it.
I was going to edit out the upper right corner where I caught a part of the window, but I changed my mind because it’s a good representation of the darkness I feel much of the time and even when I’m not engulfed by it, it is always looming. That clump at the top of that large branch looks like an old nest. And the word “nest” tends to have negative connotations for me much of the time. Because of where I come from the word is associated in my mind with narcissists and hornets. And the branches (bars) are ever present.
Here I see another open wound, even worse than the other one. In comparison it looks like the other one is trying to heal. This one looks rotted, under and behind an entanglement of branches. It has turned black. The damage that has been done, runs deep and is infected. But it stays put among the chaos.
I have a habit of saying to myself, “I don’t care” when I actually do care. When I’m angry, when I feel trapped and when I’m disgusted with myself and others around me, I say out loud in my mind, “I don’t care.” But it’s only a passive aggressive reaction. It’s a defense. It’s a way to somehow try to trick myself into feeling OK with a shitty situation.
Well, I’m breaking that habit because I do fucking care.
I care that I hate my living situation.
I do care that the carpet stinks in this place and the land lady didn’t even have it professionally cleaned before we moved in.
I do care that I have to put up with a shitty inconsiderate cock sucker of a neighbor who blares his music outside from his car with no consideration for others.
I do care that no one can or will do anything about it.
I do care that I live with a guy who doesn’t know how to take care of a woman.
Yep, I said it. And just to be clear I’m not talking about sex.
I do care that I am dependent on someone else.
I do care that I feel dead inside and becoming deader as the days turn into weeks, turn into months, turn into years.
I do care that my parents didn’t prepare me for the real world.
I do care that my entire family is so narcissistic that they scapegoated me and made me their trash dump and door mat.
I do care that I am floundering ever deeper into poverty.
I do care that I (and B) wasted the opportunity we had to save and prep for a better future while living in a decent house, in a decent neighborhood for more than reasonable rent.
I do care that I am chronically angry.
I do care that I lack the empathy much of the time when the cat is demanding something from me.
I do care that I’ve gotten fat.
I do care about what I look like.
I do care that I look and feel ten years older than I actually am.
I do care that I have not taken care of myself, because I look like I don’t actually care.
I do care that I continue to hide and shrink myself.
I do care that I feel the need to do so because I’m forever comparing myself.
I do care that I keep trying to fit into the boxes that other people seem to think I belong in.
Does anyone think it’s strange to be angry the next day?
I told my therapist one session that I had gone to bed angry one night and then woke up still angry.
She turned to me and said, “Really?!?”
I found it strange that she didn’t understand this and she told me it’s unusual. Well, it’s not unusual for me. If I went to bed angry, it’s pretty likely that I’ll be angry when I wake up too.