Just like that, huh (definitely not typing rn to try and hold myself together 🙃)
Yeah, there have been signs, and [I really should smoke more] it finally came to a head.
"You're making yourself upset?"
"If I'm hearing wrong, I must be senile/I should go and get my hearing checked."
"Oh, so I'm the reason your life is so bad, am I?"
Well [breathes], I understand my tension, my stress, my inactivity
No, I did not tell her this
I'm kinda just finally realising it
This voice I've been fighting, that's been slowly creeping it's way back into the drivers seat with me lacking awareness of how significant the impact
For a few nights running, early this week, I struggled to sleep. Jerking awake as I dozed off at the sudden incomprehensible rage I heard quietly blaring in the back of my mind, as if in real time.
And I've no idea what words were said, or when. Something like a disembodied voice. An echo of a memory of a moment lived so many times over they've blended to one passage of indistinguishable vitriol hurled over decades with reckless abandon. No words to be placed but the undeniable cadence of the maternal howl. [Gone the wonder of why I excel at recognising voices].
The agonising pleading with the girl in the mirror, only increasing; I know that you're in there, so why won't you listen?
The constant convincing still so unconvincing
The frustration at the name in the bubble of notification. The constant exhaustion. The tension. The waning of patience.
Breathing somewhat steadily
So there was a moment. And-
A less evolved version of me would think my ma did it on purpose to force interaction or just to be petty.
Because after days on end of getting it right, she somehow gets it wrong. And gets me. In a gesture way off.
I'm above that line of thinking and it helps me not
Either way, interaction was had. A question asked. A tone misperceived. A flame thrown back. Which, at this moment - too hot to handle. But I do. Unsteady-like until I catch myself and...
I calmly highlight, yet again, this problem I'm having [we're having, but i digress]
Yes, this is gaslighting.
But being gaslit by a person who doesn't actually understand that they're doing it.
Who is so trauma bound that they would swear blind if anyone were doing the harm it is you.
For being tense like you are. For avoidance. For snapping sometimes. For addressing the issue.
Here. I have to lead with understanding first. I have to moderate her emotions and redirect her to the topic at hand and manage her way of thinking and reiterate my point and do it all calm, don't dare raise your voice and-
I have been thinking and writing in this stupid lyrical manner. This sing-song nursery rhyme bullshit.
Last night, for some reason, recollections of past traumas. Of hygiene. Of solitude. Of lessons in abandon.
Things I am still ashamed of.
But wish to speak on. Because there are so many of us. Hidden. Getting by
Getting on. Battling our demons.
Some, like me, still living with them. At least... that's what she thinks. I don't share the opinion.
I said I broke. It was... incredibly emotional and vulnerable and-
You can't show your pain because it's seen as a tool to make them feel guilty and feel like the fool so they flip it back on you without a care what you've said coz it's easier to claim they'd be better of dead than to take a step back and to listen instead.
I heard you I heard you. Then exaggerates context. Exaggerates impact. Inflates the intent and warps it to suit their ego.
This is the matter at hand. This is the plainness of speech. This is the intent.
Do not take to heart the things you think that I meant.
Do not ruminate on your past wounds or fears of your failure [the ones I'm beginning to share].
Do not put on me all the harm of past aggressors. Of the attitudes I've shed. Of the fallacies in your head.
"Well, I can't help it, can I!?"
Not seeking apology. Don't want you to feel bad.
Just asking you to see me as I truly am.
See the work I've put in. See the intention within. See the years of the patience and commitment that's been repairing this ship, drawing us closer, trying to establish something vaguely familial.
Yet you see me. Villain. Who hates. And spits sin. Who lies and denies you your right to feeling.
Here am I sharing this ache in my chest, this knot in my gut, and this pit in my head.
"It's always about what I'm doing to you!".
I've had an ear worm lately: "I need you, too". Still don't know what it means. Don't think I'm meant to. Not ready yet.
You ever notice when one has just formed?
"You're upsetting yourself/You're getting yourself upset."
Because everything is always repeated. They want you convinced.
That's the moment I realised the futility of going further. I'd said what I'd said. Clarified. Reiterated. Took my time. Found my patience.
I stopped. Composed myself. Said goodnight.
Again: Please remember the words that I've said. Please do not focus on what you think I meant.
A final attempt to beg. To plead. That she'll hear me this time.
Coz its taking it's toll. On my soul.
Oh yeah, that's the revelation.
That voice is winning. My energy waning. My faith fading. My hope withered.
And instead of knowing I'm good and great, I'm trying repetition hoping the thought integrates.
But I'm battling two voices.
One cultivated by me, with unending resistance.
The other, nurtured and festered inside. The one I seek to hide.
Had manage to quell it, pushed it to the side.
I was golden. Confident. I'd finally found pride.
And now both the knowing and the fearing have taken up residence. Battling it out for the number one spot.
And as I look out, I see the crowd forming.
The faces of friends. Some clear as day. Some so distant.
Some I can hear. Some I just get a glimpse of. But what carries through; words of love and peer wisdom.
That's one side. With the sun. With the me fueled by loving.
The other. Barren. Cept for one figure.
One I try not to witness til she toes the line to the sunny side. A gift yet a rarity.
Typically, she resides in the shady seats but stays squinting. The most notable impression of the twisted expression.
Some days are more dreary. And I can't see her clearly. But her voice steady travels on the wind and whips through me.
I watch these two battle it out - the crowd cheering.
But that voice doesn't shout. It whispers so clearly.
And the wounded looks through you: I know you can hear me.
Those supporters, so loving, well their chants are drowned out. And the two are left standing in a haze of pure doubt.
Neither sure. Both uncertain. Of which one will win.
Sometimes I think it's a matter of time.
Eventually the clock runs out and the stands will be missing their most loyal voyeur.
All that will remain will be sunshine and well wishes.
But its not really so dire. I suppose.
I recognise now what has it's hand round my throat.
May I stand by the sunny side and know that clouds pass and find my place in the rain.
Let it wash over and all that malarkey.
So much has been said. So much I will probably read again and find lacking sense.
But you cannot tame a beast you have not named and I've named it. I know it. And I'm bound to defeat it.
In the meantime, keep it going.
Find peace. Things will improve. It's just trauma. Not you.
You're better for knowing.