Laid Bare

I have never been good at expressing my deepest thoughts and feelings. I’m not good with one on one relationship, not when they matter. The ratio between how well I will do with sharing to how important the relationship is equals Pi. I would rather stand in front of a crowd and amuse them then try and make a real connection in the world. Which is why I find this blog so nice, it is about amusing a bunch of strangers and a few friends. Maybe that is why I find it easier to write down my thoughts and feelings, those deep murky places that live inside of me. As a wiser man than me stated ‘I write because I am too afraid to say some things out loud.’ Very few people know me, the real me. I am an excellent story teller, but few ever see the hidden depths of my stories. I have layers upon layers of complexity in me, but the very basic core of which I am is all very simple. I’m just a girl wanting to be loved. So here are some of my secrets that have eaten away at me. Sometimes I think they are all that I am, yet I’m beginning to believe I am so much more than these things.

I have been so desperate for love that I have forgiven inappropriate touching, a sexual attack, physical, emotional and mental abuse in hopes that I would be loved. I thought that if I forgave them they would love me and treat me right. That if I loved them, they would learn how to love me. For the longest time it never dawned on me that first I needed to be desperate enough to love myself and not forgive those that do harm. That letting people abuse me would not make them love me. That their abusing me was not a form of love. I never understood the concept of loving myself enough to not put up with it.

I am by nature optimistic; I believe that people are inherently good, that when push comes to shove they will do what is right. Yet I feel that people will for whatever reason hurt me. I am often road kill on their way to their happiness. I have yet to figure out why this happens. Though I do spend good portions of my time creating theories. Sometimes I think it is karma, to make up for all the bad things I have done, except I’m not sure what bad things I have done to deserve this life. Other times I think that bad things just happen. And sometimes I have no answer at all.

I lost a baby, which is one of the dumbest phrases ever. I didn’t lose him (yes in my secret heart I think of him as a him), it’s not like losing a set of keys or your homework, where you just need to retrace your steps to find the missing item. My body betrayed me, didn’t do what it was suppose to; create a warm nurturing environment for him to grow. It devastated me. Broke me in ways that nothing else could. If I knew all the words in the dictionary I still would not have the vocabulary to explain. Yet from that, I found something. Myself. It was a long process of staring into the darkness and deciding to turn, walk away to find the light.

I have at various points been diagnosed as being manic depressive, having anxiety, OCD and ADD. Every day is a struggle within my brain. I don’t think they way others do, I don’t feel the way others do. I don’t see the world the way others do. These are neither bad nor good statements, they are merely statements. Yet for whatever reason I have been at various times in my life suicidal. I haven’t escaped suicide because I found faith or something to live for, I didn’t have a moment where I was too scared to die, I didn’t have someone rush in at the last moment before I took action to save me. (Though I did have someone reach out to me once when I was drowning in the darkness, and he is forever in my heart). Every time I sank that low I didn’t commit suicide because I was terrified that the ones I loved the most would not care if I was dead. That I would die as unloved as I felt. So I didn’t in the hopes that someday they would love me as much as I love them. Even when I’m not suicidal, even on my best of days, I worry that I am unlovable. This is my biggest fear, more than snakes, more than being homeless, more than anything in this world or the next I worry that I will be unloved. Which means I reject all those that do love me, and hold myself separate from them.

I am a complex contradiction of emotions. I feel that I am worthless and have no value, at the same time I am incredibly narcissistic and believe that I have the power to control things, and that I am the center of everything. These contradictions often leave me confused and unable to figure out how to move forward. How does one live with the belief that they are worth nothing, yet everything revolves around them? It creates anxiety in me, as I feel that I am required to fix everything yet I don’t know how. I constantly feel like I am letting down everyone.

I eat to hide. I drink to remember to feel. I get lost in imagination.

I tell the truth. I may at times avoid a conversation, but I don’t lie. I may sidestep a question, misdirect your attention. But I don’t lie. Except I do lie. I lie to those that have hurt me, those that I still love. I lie to them all the time. I am nothing but a huge liar when it comes to them. I tell them it’s ok. I tell them it’s forgiven. I tell them what they need to hear so they are not upset. I lie. It’s not ok. They have wounded me. They have disappointed me. They have abandoned me. I have not forgiven and I have not forgotten.