*This first large paragraph was written over 2 years ago*
Something is happening. Don’t know what it is. I’m scared the suicide is back. Why do I think I’m embarrassing and stupid? You/’re almost 33 and you act like a kid. I’ve not accomplished anything. Why am I so lazy? Why am I so apathetic? Why do I prefer to sit on my ass than be productive and fix my life? Why am I more concerned about working my butt off at work to go home and get high af every night? Why can I not push myself in to gear to be an entrepreneur or a brand ambassador? Why do I fail EVERY SINGLE TIME I try to workout?! What is my chemical imbalance that kicks me off my progress flight and send me back to the runway of struggle and disappointment? I wish I knew. I wish I could fix it. I’ve done that my whole life, wishing. Wishing for this to change, wishing for a boyfriend, wishing to be pretty, wish wish wish. Never do do do like it should have been. I always wanted to be pretty and have a boyfriend. I was gorgeous. I could have been somebody. I do wish. I wish so much that my mom would have spent more time with me…I wish my mom was an actual mom to me. She didn’t raise me, she kept me alive. she kept my tummy full, my body warm, and butt clothed. I learned nothing from my mother except how to struggle, life was shit with kids. You know what raised me? Television. Movies, Music. and not the artistic properties, the envy, the glam, the body types…I was obsessed with celebrities. Anywhere but my home was like an episode of television. It never seemed real. Like life was really what is shown on tv and movies’. I never tuned into life right in front of me, I never learned how the world works, until it flashed on my tv screens. And even that was a lie.
I feel like I may delete this later but It’s word vomit that needed to come out onto something.
The anxiety I battle every single
minute of every day breaks me down more and more and I feel like I have failed myself.
But let’s be real, I know that failure leads to success. For me it’s not a matter of “knowing it,” but rather a matter of believing in it.
Belief in myself is difficult because I have never challenged myself, directly. I went through the motions of life and kind of just…well, coasted.
I went to school cuz apparently that is what you’re supposed to do. Okay, did that, then worked, and worked. Found love, moved for love, worked some more, drank a lot,
went to school again, quit school, got promoted, overworked myself, and the greatest fuck up of all, digging my debt death bed.
I have just been living life the way others around me live. I was never given direction. Never guided as a child. Just left to my devices
i come from a damaged family (but who doesn’t?). my mindset is so cracked it’s mosaic. I have anxiety, body dysmorphia, depression, pcos, and probably ADD.
I have something that is not physically “seen”…I have heart.
I keep thinking about how my brand is about self-love, and acceptance of ones flaws and feeling beautiful down to the core. And how I don’t see myself in that way. So how can I promote
self-acceptance if I can’t accept my own flaws? How can I preach when I am not an expert?
I am on a mental health journey that is incredibly difficult for me. I am trying to patch and seal the damage that that has been done to my mind and soul. Damage that originated at a young age, some
damage done as early as 4 years old. It wasn’t physical abuse. I was never physically abused. But psychologically my mind was being repeatedly raped. I realized tonight where my flinching
originated. My mom always said she never hit me. ever. and she’s right, she never did. But she hit the dog anytime it was being bad. My mom will scream and holler until whatever she is screaming
at submits. What’s my takeaway? If you frustrate or piss her off, watch your head or she will smack you and continuously yell at you until you’re either crying or terrified into silence.
So my whole entire life has been trying not to make mom (or anyone) mad for any reason. In fact, I cleaned the house so she wouldn’t have a reason to yell at me. A clean house so she doesn’t have to feel
like “now i have to clean up because of these kids and this dog. Ugh!”
Shit , she made me feel like if I tell her I am sick she will yell at me.
And because she worked all the time I spent most of my alone time in front of the television. My older brother was going through his own shit so we didn’t bond. We don’t talk now.
Got no reason to. He taught me how to be angry. He was (and still is) so incredibly angry about our father’s death and all the shit he and my mom went through
after he died. He resents me because I don’t have memories of our father. Like he does to this day, anytime I went to ask him something it is always responded with “WHAT” like “wtf are you even doing
in here?” tone. SO I usually left him alone. My mom was the same. I would go see her and she would just sigh (like i was bothering her) and ask “what’s wrong?” not in a concerning way mind you.
In a tone of “what the hell do you want from me now?” Sorry, nothing. goodnight. Then she would yell “WHATS WRONG?”…nothing i just wanted to say goodnight. and I would scurry back to my room.
Never a “you can tell mama anything” moment with her. The more I write about this stuff the more i realize how fucked up it is.
All this really happened. she will deny it and be shocked because she doesn’t think it happened. She wont see her mistakes, let alone admit to them.
My goal with my psychiatrist is to get past blaming my mother and blaming myself for letting it go on for so long. I need to forgive myself and let myself grow. I used my past as a crutch to not do anything
or be with people. I used it to get attention for drinks, gifts, food, ect. I can’t keep doing that. I’m 35, I need to forgive myself for the last 30 years. I did nothing wrong. I need to let it go.
