What even am I, if I don't feel human?

|| Aeris | F | 30 | ISFP-T || I have a lot going on in my mind at any given time and need a place to vent it out. If the idea of hearing about someone else's life appeals, welcome. If not, carry on and have a wonderful day, stranger.

[mypersonalblogspace]

Thinking about that one time when I was a young teenager and my blood sugar dropped dangerously low while I was at a nursing home visiting my grandpa with my mom, right? Instead of asking for a piece of candy to safely bring my levels back up until I could get a proper meal afterward, I instead stay silent and proceed to have a full-blown hysterical, sobbing meltdown because I can't be the fat kid asking for a piece of candy, that's absurd. "I don't want to be known as the fat kid who eats candy, so instead I'll just let my blood sugar keep plummeting until I potentially collapse and fall unconscious, perhaps even into a coma🙂" was my exact thought process.

To this day, at age 30, I still feel deeply uncomfortable eating in front of people, especially "unhealthy" foods. I am currently on a diet and have successfully shed 46 pounds so far and am still going! But I am still 254 pounds of an overweight disgusting slob who is deeply ashamed of ever reaching this point, so... 🤷‍♀️

Diet first, then I'll work on my self-image and mentality, y'know? Considering how much I absolutely hate myself, I clearly have some work to do.

[mypersonalblogspace]

I know I should talk to my doctor. I should tell him the antidepressants are increasing my suicidal tendencies and thoughts. But you know? I miss that freedom, that elation, of knowing my life is going to end soon. That soon I will have no more burdens, soon I will be stress-free. It's an addictive feeling. It's one I don't want to give up again. It's been over ten years since I last felt like this. I don't want it to go away again.

[mypersonalblogspace]

Thinking about all the times I thought my step-dad was actually being a dad for once, but was just doing The Things™ to either put on an image for his friends or get back at my mom.

When he told me he'd had the cat put down, he pulled me into a very uncomfortable hug for the absolute first time in my seventeen-ish years. He only did that because a friend was over. It was weird, uncomfortable, and still, 13 years later, feels gross and wrong.

Or that other time he called me out of nowhere and asked to meet up. That he was going to finally take me to this bar and restaurant that was known for being the first bar people went to when they turned 21. Known for jumbo shrimp or something like that, I don't know. The hype wasn't worth it. My parents had been saying they'd take me since I was like eighteen, and sure enough, when 21 rolled around, we didn't go. Nor at 22, or 23, or 24... He took me there at 26 or 27 and just talked about taking pictures so he could rub it in my mom's face that he took me first. All he talked about the whole time was my mom. He didn't eat anything either, just watched me eat with a weird smile on his face. (Note, my mom broke up with him like two or three years prior to this, and to this day, he still hasn't let her go.) The only reason he'd called me to begin with was to try and get under my mom's skin. She didn't give two shits that he took me first. She was, and still is, highly neglectful.

I really do hate my step-dad. For so much more than these here, but emotional manipulation is real. And he used it against me since I was 2. I've since disowned him as my step-dad and have ceased all contact with him some two years ago. Shortly after the bar incident, if memory serves. But these things still hurt to think about. I was never important to him. He never cared about me, just about what image I could help provide for him. Fuck you, Jerry. I'm glad you're out of my life.

[mypersonalblogspace]

Good day, stranger. You may call me Aeris. I am thirty and currently experiencing Life. It has its ups and downs, definitely more downs than ups, am I right? But I endure. For all life has thrown at me, I still have a 100% survival rate, so hey, at least I'm achieving something, yeah?

I'm starting this blog on impulse and don't know if I'll even remember making it when I wake up. Hell, I'm half asleep and might not be making any sense at all right now. This whole thing might be an incoherent mess that I'll just delete tomorrow and retry again with a clearer mind.

It's probably worth mentioning that I am diagnosed with ADHD, specifically inattentive, and autism, amongst other disorders, but they tend to go hand-in-hand with these, so, if you know, you know. You know? Maybe you don't, I don't know. I sometimes have a hard time comprehending others do not always have the same knowledge that I do. I like things others don't, and thus have more knowledge of whatever it may be, and vice versa. But, hey, I recognize it and am working on it.

Like a lot of things. I recognize and openly admit I have a lot of problems. I had a rough upbringing and it's left me with trauma I am now burdened with healing. I've made some progress, but the more I make, the more I realize just how far I am from being healed. The deeper I dig, the more of myself I find.

What's bothering me the most in this very moment, and the reason I started this blog to begin with, is I have recently found myself desiring to be held. To be enveloped in an almost too-tight bear hug until I can't stand it anymore. And that would be easy enough to achieve normally! If I weren't me.

But I am. Me, I mean. Unfortunately. I want to be held, to feel affection from another person, quite intensely. But the idea of someone being kind to me, of holding and loving me feels so grotesquely foreign. Repulsive. The mere idea of it makes me want to hurl and punch myself in the face. Repeatedly. Until I don't want it anymore. And boy, if that isn't a powerful trauma response, I don't know what is.

There's the part of me that wants it, and there's the more prominent part of me that feels I absolutely do not deserve it at all. And that part of me wants to physically punish myself for even thinking of wanting affection. Of wanting to be loved.

I'm realizing lately that I just genuinely feel unworthy of being liked, loved, touched, or even just looked at by another person. It feels so viscerally wrong.

I've come to realize I have a fearful-avoidant attachment style. I know where the trauma stems from. It's from multiple places and people. People who I trusted. People who abused that trust and abused me.

I'm sure I'll get into all of, well, everything, bit by bit. But for now, I'm too tired to keep typing, so I'm done for the night. I have much I want to say, but too little time to do it. I have work tonight and won't be getting much sleep by the looks of it. Four and a half hours and I have to be up again for another nightshift. 😮‍💨

So, goodnight for now. Thanks for reading, if you did. I don't know how active I'll be here, but it's a good place to get my thoughts out and probably bring up in the future with my therapist, so. Adios, stranger. Have a great week, keep your head up. Never forget that life also has its ups. You just have to be here to see them.