I sure hope there’s beauty in the breakdown...
I so desperately want to disappear.
This isn’t useful. I just really feel strongly that I’m annoying people. I am scared. I want help, but I think I ask too much. I don’t think I’ve really figured out how to explore alone.
I think I might need to fall flat on my face. Maybe it’s because I really hate myself. Maybe it’s just the damn effect of overprotection and just too many fucking rules inside me. I know it’s common, but I have trouble playing. And I feel awkward.
I’m frustrated about needing so much. And I still do look down on myself. Like, ‘Oh you can’t have that’. And maybe I justify it by telling myself that my focus lies elsewhere. I deserve better. A part of me knows that, but it gets consistently buried. And I just cannot hold onto what happened at orientation. I remember it, but it gets further and further away and it looks more and more like a dream and lies. I know I’m not helping myself by believing it, but I see myself alone. And I see speaking my thoughts or speaking up for myself like a repetitive annoying song. My fucking specialty.
I’m saying this because I feel it. And I need to recognize it. I hate myself. And I guess it doesn’t help that I’m doing a project on middle school. I think middle school was the worst time of my life. I really do. That’s most of the trauma. I was shitty at trying to kill myself but really, that’s when I wanted it so fucking badly. They wouldn’t stop hurting me. It was all emotional, but they were relentless. The internet where you really know the people you’re talking to didn’t exist yet, but the respite at home was shit. I guess my mom was going through menopause. She’d yell. All the time. I think it was more towards High School when my Dad threatened to call the cops because it was relentless. Maybe I was emotionally abused. Maybe we abused each other. Nothing fucking made sense. My mom would consistently be angry and then just whenever the fuck she felt like it, she’d act like nothing happened and be all sweet. I hated every bit of my life. I asked God to kill me. Multiple times.
My Uncle touched me. My entire nuclear and extended family in the room and no one noticed. No one. And I didn’t understand why after just crying about it directly after I didn’t fall apart. So I thought it didn’t matter and I went on living my life until I was in my 20′s and realized I couldn’t handle seeing him again.
I hate this part of my life so much. I hate that I need so much damn healing. So maybe I’m not even stuck in my teen years. Maybe I’m stuck in Middle school. And I only was able to listen to music at this point. I couldn’t get it out of me yet because I didn’t know how to play guitar yet. I didn’t have therapy. I was bullied, so i learned to hate myself. I learned I was wrong. I memorized that I was a terrible person. If all these shitty things were happening to me, I couldn’t possibly be a good person, right?
And I was questioning religion at this point -- I don’t think I was conscious of it yet, but it was happening. So especially when I got to High school and did become aware of it, of course I would think terrible things happened to me because I was defying this religion both in spirit and action. I really didn’t understand critical thinking until College. I couldn’t breathe until College.
When I was born, I was a light. People didn’t understand and put boxes around me, but I still shined. And then they threw shit. I was smeared. I couldn’t see my light anymore. And eventually I forgot until I had nothing left but sleep and wake. No energy, no love, no light. I started over, and I found my strength. But this has never left me. It is too much trauma to just let go. No, I don’t want this to define me, but, forgive me for the inadequate comparison, I was in an emotional concentration camp when I was in Middle School. And the craziest part is that it was partially due to being raised Jewish.
I think I found my wound. I want to get past this. I need safety.
