Sometimes the people who say they love us do a terrible job at showing it and leave us with wounds that we have to tend to. I’ve spent a tremendous amount of time in my life and in my relationships trying to smooth things out with boyfriends, with friends, with family. But it seldom ever seems to go through and often what results is that I experience a great deal of exhaustion and then depression.
Exhaustion and depression has been the two main things for me when it comes to relationships with those I’ve mentioned in my past. I’ve been put down a lot in these relationships. And while it became easy to walk away from friends or relationships that exhaustive pattern, it was always harder to do with family. Everyone in my life always seems to advocate staying close to one’s family, making it work. Not many people seem to understand the need to create distance when the people who exhaust you the most are within your own bloodline. But sometimes it is necessary, especially if frequent interactions with them make you feel like your worst possible self.
Once again, it’s not like these people are “bad” people. I think they do love me. But they’ve never been able to provide me with what I needed, and often I felt the life sucked out of me. Growing up, what I wanted was an advocate, a supporter. I never had that from them. In the moments that counted, they were no where to be found. Many within my family had a very different experience from me and I think they were fortunate to have that experience from those who loved them. But I did not. And it left me feeling deeply neglected for a long long time. I’ve said many times before that I am only strong because I have to be. I’ve never felt like I had a shoulder to cry on or someone who supported me through thick and thin, but rather only when it was opportune. Being in situations where I’m surrounded by people who I’m sure love me but who can’t find it in themselves to advocate for me, and would gladly make me the butt of their jokes, leaves me with no choice but to be completely on my own. Once again, I have to advocate for myself.
It sucks sometimes because there’s quite a few people in my life that I think “love” me but that I would prefer to have as little to do with them as possible. Growing up, they didn’t treat me right. In their heads and I’m sure there’s many situations where they can justify all the good they did in order to see me happy and successful, but I remember the pain. I remember being called ugly or feeling as though my emotions didn’t matter and being made to feel like I was less than. That’s what stands out to me. It’s always weird too when they see me and they often have all these good things to say about all the good they did for me and how “special” I was to them and all I can remember were the moments where I fell and no one was there to pick me up. Or the times I felt completely on my own and no one came to my aid. I think for as long as I can remember I’ve had to be my own advocate. For as long as I can remember I feel like I’ve had to stand up for myself, to lick my own wounds. I didn’t feel like I had a shoulder to cry on, or somewhere I could go to hide away from the world other than my bedroom. And even then. She use to read my diary. She often implied I was getting fat. It was those moments of unsolicited remarks and unwelcome commentary about my looks, my smile, my skin, my…everything. It’s funny because my family often looked at me and said, “She’s fine. I never have to worry about her.” I wish they did. The truth is that I’m like this because they never worried about me. I’m strong because I’ve always had to be.
The truth is, I want as little to do with these people as humanly possible. I don’t like my ex. I never liked his family and many of his friends. I think in a way I just wanted to escape, to live above the fray by showing people that all this stupid shit like race and friends and popularity didn’t really matter. And I might’ve used him to do it. I wanted to set an example of a better life. I wanted to use the delusions I created to escape from the reality of life as it is. If I could move on from this world and all of its heavy darkness, I would. If I could leave this place once and for all, I would. It’s weird, because I’m not lacking in confidence. I’ve always known from the way people treated me vs. others they thought were better looking that I could not rely on my looks for support. I’ve known since I was 7 years old. I’ve spent decades working on myself, my inner self, diving deep into my work to try and become a better person. I am incredibly self-aware. I worked to try and make myself happy and then I realized that while happiness is good, balance is better. And then I realized that all of my work, valuable as it is, doesn’t negate the fact that to a lot of people who live in the darkness of stupidity and ignorance and superficiality, looks desperately matter. And I tried, at least, to lead an exemplary life. But oh my god if I didn’t choose the wrong people to be an example to. It hurts. Right now it hurts. But they don’t know and they can’t seem to find it in themselves to care. They’re bigots, racists, sexists, power hungry, weak. And this is just my family. I’m trying to keep clinging to the light but I want so desperately to go on.
Take me home. Please? I’m ready. I’m so ready.