A traitor to the clan

 

I’m in pain , I’m enraged. Hurt by the very people that I share blood with. Mentally and physically worn down by the scars of abandonment. Maybe I sabotage myself on purpose because I’m not feeling worthy of being loved. It's instilled from childhood,  you learn from the people that raised you. I’ve been sitting in my own head struggling with these demons. It’s all so  complicated but you don’t fucking know me.

 
All the self-help books, Tony Robbins’ speeches, and ice cream in the world can't heal the Betrayal, abandonment, deceit and manipulation.
Damaged, broken and scared . But so are shooting stars and comets.
Just one big dysfunctional family

Anybody who grew up in a dysfunctional family knows one of the cardinal rules: The person who mentions a problem is the person who caused the problem.
Let some low-on-the-family-totem-pole person raise a destructive issue that’s hidden in plain sight and all hell breaks loose.
No, the family doesn’t suddenly wake up and say, “OMG, you’re right. We have to do something about that!” Instead, everyone within earshot rounds on the poor sap who dared mention the family secret and the bullying begins:
“Why are you always such a troublemaker?”
“If you’d just learn to keep your mouth shut, everything would be fine.”
“If you were a better person, your mother wouldn’t drink so much!” (Or your uncle wouldn’t come on to you or your parents wouldn’t argue so much or your father wouldn’t have deserted the family or whatever.)
And so on and so on. It’s absolutely depressing how alike dysfunctional families are. Worse, let said this poor sap, in desperation, take his complaint outside the family in an attempt to get help and … well, you ain’t seen hell until you’ve seen that.
Because then this sap is not only a liar, a troublemaker, a tramp, a weakling, or whatever else s/he’s being scapegoated for. Then the sap is disloyal. A traitor to the clan. A violator of the code of silence.

I Am Heavy

Nothing can really prepare you, no matter how many times you’ve been down this road before. That is the simplest way I can come up with to try to explain it. I just don’t feel quite right. It’s like walking on eggshells, but I’m cautious of myself instead of someone else. I keep turning each corner while holding my breath. It’s like part of me is anticipating it. Part of me is expecting it to be there lurking and waiting for me in the shadows. And yet, I am not prepared. I am heavy. People say “what was the trigger?” I don’t know. Would you believe me if I said there truly isn’t one? Maybe it is the weather. Or maybe it is because this is a season of transition. It doesn’t make sense, even to me, even though I am living it. I’ve been told on a multitude of occasions, and I’d like to agree, that I am a pretty self-aware individual. But this is something I cannot pinpoint.

Triggers make sense. I get them. I know strategies to avoid and prevent them. I know ways to identify them. I’ve learned how to cope when they happen. I am heavy. The kind of heavy that makes you move a little slower. It makes breathing a little harder. It makes the world look so fast, and makes the thought of trying to keep up with the pace exhausting. Putting on my makeup seems like such an accomplishment. I think the hardest thing is, when you’re known for being nothing short of the energizer bunny on a day-to-day basis, you cause a scene if you are simply quiet. If I don’t make eye contact, crack jokes, or smile, it’ll blow my cover. It’s not that I don’t want to be engaged, present and joyful, it is just that I feel so empty and doing any more than just going through the motions is giving more of myself than I have to give. And yet I continue to do it.

 Because what if I act the way I’m feeling? What if I slouch in my seat and stare at the wall? What if I don’t acknowledge those around me, and I embrace my exhaustion? I’ll tell you what. It causes somewhat of a scene. It causes worry. And the worry often comes with pain. And seeing those who know me on any level feel pain in regard to me, honestly just makes me heavier. It makes it harder. What if someone asks if I’m ok? Do they really want to know? If I tell the truth, will it push them away? Will we both walk away feeling worse? If I smile and say “I’m great” does that really make their concern leave? Does it make my heaviness dissipate? Or will they feel dismissed, and I feel even more alone? My world is racing faster than ever. And I feel sluggish at best. Slow and steady wins the race they say. I do not lack hope. I believe deeply in hope. 

Sometimes I just don’t know how to tap into it. Sometimes I don’t know how to let that carry me. Misunderstanding feels like a theme in my life lately. I feel misunderstood by the world around me. I feel misunderstood by my peers. And yet I don’t know how to help them understand. What I do know, that this darkness has come and gone before. But being heavy makes it  hard to move. And I refuse to move closer to the darkness. I have fallen into that rabbit hole. I will wait out the storm. I’m going to have to choose the uncertainty of hope, over the certainty of pain. And when the sun appears tomorrow, I will move forward and choose healing. And there I will embrace hope again