this started as a blog post and then went downhill from there
Henni adressed this once (probably more often but i just remembered that one time) where she talked about how she feels like she gets bad at taking care of herself.
I never understood this when I was younger, like, why wouldn’t you feed yourself and drink and shower and go outside, those are the basic things, why would you force yourself not to do them?
The thing is, taking care of yourself means so much more. It means accepting yourself, telling yourself, that your feelings and moods are valid and that you are worth eating and taking up space. That crawling under your bed and starving yourself won’t help you with anything. Punishing yourself or just letting those basic needs slip away and ignoring your empty stomach shouldn’t be okay.
Right now I’m in one of those phase were I don’t feel like I’ve earned the right to be here, dressing myself seems like too much effort, I’m not important or worthy enough to make myself leave the bed and cook something for me.
Something my therapist told me, as I called her up a few hours ago - crying in the middle of the street, because I couldn’t make myself move anymore - was, that i never learned how to take care of myself.
Not in a i-cant-cook-or-live-on-my-own-kinda-way, but in terms of emotional care.
I never learned to hug myself, talk to myself nicely; I adopted a way of speaking to myself, that wasn’t healthy for me, because that’s how my parents spoke to me and my therapist assured me that that’s not the way you speak to a scared child.
I developed a lot of bad habits throughout the years because of how I thought I needed to treat myself, I got into abusive relationships, ate nothing or too much, forced myself to do certain stuff or to not do things I wanted to do and harmed myself in other ways.
Summarizing this text: I’m at this point in time not able to calm myself down or treat myself the way I should.
You know what makes everything so much worse?
That nobody gives a fuck. or even better, they do care, but not about me, but about themselves.
Every time I got bad again, my mother just leaves for a few days or weeks. Without talking with us about it, without a trace, one or two days before she’ll call my dad at work, because she’s too scared to tell him face to face and just casually tells him, that she’ll be gone for a while, not sure for how long, not sure where, but she’ll come back soon. Furthermore she won’t tell me that herself, my dad will come home one day after work, extremely stressed and pissed off and rant about how he hates it when she does it, how their marriage means nothing to her and just how bad everything in their relationship is.
My brother will then spent most of his time at friend’s houses, my dad moves into his work place and here I am, once again, all by myself, kinda not able to survive.
But I’ll manage it somehow, my therapist will call almost every day to make sure that I’m still alive and breathing and I’ll get over it and on with that thing I call my life.
It’s actually not that bad. No one notices how much or how less I eat, or when, no one is disappointed, when I’m in my PJs for a week straight or when I take 3 naps a day.
No one gives me a bad look, when I sit in the bathroom at 2 am and crying and no one will be angry, when I do the same at 8 o’ clock in the morning on the kitchen floor.
I can be as destructive and self-harming as I like, no one’s there to stop me or to tell me that I should get my shit together.
It’s kind auf nice to be able just to let it out, whenever it needs to get out.
at the same time no one’s there to try to calm me down, when I wake up in the middle of the night, screaming and scared to death, no one will look after me, when I sit next to toilette, sweaty and feeling sick, about to faint.
But then everybody will get back and start judging.
my mother will be very mad at me for not living my life to my full potential, for spending my days in my bed and she will shout at me, when I tell her, crying and shaking, that I just can’t go to the supermarket because I’m drowning in panic and bad thoughts.
She will punish me for not leaving the house and “doing what a ‘normal person’ would do”, with not buying food and no cooking. I’ll just eat nothing, I didn’t care anyways.
Or I’ll drag myself outside, with this last piece of hope and go to the supermarket to pick up frozen pizza and bread and something for my upset stomach and I’ll cry all the way back to the house, because it was so exhausting and too much to handle and I just had 3 panic attacks in a little store with probably 6 people and had to leave and break down on the sidewalk hyperventilating, wander lost around the streets, maybe twice, just to gather enough strength to make it to the cashier.
My dad will look at me while I’m down, almost dying and tell me, sometimes louder than necessary that he didn’t do anything wrong. That he was the perfect dad and that it’s not his fault.
Just like I would stand beside a burning house, hearing the family inside scream and screaming back: I’m sorry, I can’t help, it’s not my fault, I didn’t set the fire!
My parents are in denial for years now and I don’t think anything will ever get through to them. I’ve been in 3 different clinics in the past 3 years, had multiple therapists and took prescriptive meds for and against basically everything and they still look at me in this certain way, like I’m a stranger, expecting me to snap out of it any second.
They don’t even bother to cover up the fact that they are so annoyed of me being me, so tired of everything being so hard to handle.
But they actually don’t handle anything.
Currently my brother has a cold and decided to stay home from school to recover.
Because I don’t have a job at the moment, and I’m the only one who’s at home during the day, it’s my duty to take care of him, make him food in the evening, make him tea in the morning, make sure he gets fresh air and enough tissues.
Whenever my father comes home, late at night or leaves early in the morning, he’ll see if I’m awake and ask how my brother is. Remember, it’s not even a stomach flu, just a cold with a running nose and headaches. I don’t want to minimize his struggle, but I could literally lay beside my 16-years-old brother, with my arms cut open and having a stroke from all the panic attacks and he would check my brothers temperature and ask me to make him tea.
It’s just so nerve-wrecking, being not able to exist in your own body, nevermind in your own head and then watching the people around you, who you should be able to trust and feel save with, treating you like you are nothing, emphasizing your own self-image in the worst way possible.
When I force myself out of bed in the late afternoon, to make myself eggs on toast and to keep myself a little longer alive, they will comment on my eating behavior, ask me if I gained weight again and if I don’t think that it’s inappropriate to eat now -
I don’t remember what the whole point of this is, what I wanted to tell the world, what I want my friends to think of me, this should have been a blog post, but I’m too scared to post it on a website I know my parents are reading. I don’t know what I want to say with this. I could write it in a diary and in my mother tongue, but it seems to me that I need this language to establish a border between myself and what happens in my life.
Nobody knows what’s really going on in my life, I normally don’t talk about it or at least try not to spent too much time in the role of the poor little (big) girl that feels so sorry for herself, that wants attention and everyone to love her, I try to keep it bottled up, but the one’s of you, that actually met me once or twice or even almost every day for 8 years in a row, see through my internet personality, see the person behind peetapun and actually saw me sitting one the sidewalk not being able to breathe or watched me crying in public toilets. I know it’s never fun and games with me, I know I cancel more dates then I ever show up, I arrive too late and leave too early, I’m not a good talker, a bad listener and just in general actually not a likeable person.
I kinda lost my train of thoughts now…
Maybe I just wanted to make sure that everyone knows, that I’m still suffering, because all I seem to do is tweet not really funny and insinuating stuff or write a blog post convincing myself how deep and thoughtful and clever I am, when all I actually do is trying not to be me.
dailybridgerton
andulkaphoto
titsay
stormborns
snowghoul
blakekathryn
gracieabrams
sugurugetos
yousharknotpass
prguitarman
ellievsbear
gamechangershow
