Mater Dolorosa
I just cannot do this anymore. There is barely anything left of me that I can look at and say 'look it's me'. It has all been subsumed into someone who fears every time she opens her mouth. Who has to tiptoe around for fear of offending.
I tried, I really tried. But I just cannot keep pretending anymore. Everything I say is suspect, everything I do seems wrong.
There are moments of happiness and joy, but there is this underlying dread. There is this sense of being lied to , of having things hidden because of fear from the other side of being honest. That is not love and that is not fair - to anyone.
You gotta love the having to beg for things that used to come naturally. You gotta love the total disconnect and then the sense of confusion when certain phrases are used (over and over) and they do not match the actions, or seem to just be said out of obligation - and perhaps it is me, that would not be necessarily a surprise, but there is a definite disconnect, regardless where, "I am just not feeling it" - it's like the Carole King song - "It's too late." It always feels like too little too later after hurt is piled upon hurt and how long can one go on being ignored or feeling like it's all a charade for appearances sake. Again, perhaps these feelings run both ways, and again if this is the case, it's not right for either party.
I don't know where to go or who to turn to. I am tired of being called names and then asked why I am crying. I am tired of dealing with BPD and ADD and there is never any attempt to get help. And, it's not like I am perfect. It's not like I don't get I can be stubborn or I can cause pain. But when the tables are turned, and I am pushed to my own breaking point and I finally lash out, I am called every name in the book and then 'recorded' or threatened, or called a whore, or holes are punched in walls, things that are important are broken, but hey, it's me who needs to be 'recorded' because I might be saying something offensive or abusive, except, usually, it is something taken the wrong way and it is a misunderstanding - but heaven forbid that is acceptable.
It is enough I think. Time to figure out where to go...sometimes I feel like a motherless child...
oh wait...
I tried, I really tried. But I just cannot keep pretending anymore. Everything I say is suspect, everything I do seems wrong.
There are moments of happiness and joy, but there is this underlying dread. There is this sense of being lied to , of having things hidden because of fear from the other side of being honest. That is not love and that is not fair - to anyone.
You gotta love the having to beg for things that used to come naturally. You gotta love the total disconnect and then the sense of confusion when certain phrases are used (over and over) and they do not match the actions, or seem to just be said out of obligation - and perhaps it is me, that would not be necessarily a surprise, but there is a definite disconnect, regardless where, "I am just not feeling it" - it's like the Carole King song - "It's too late." It always feels like too little too later after hurt is piled upon hurt and how long can one go on being ignored or feeling like it's all a charade for appearances sake. Again, perhaps these feelings run both ways, and again if this is the case, it's not right for either party.
I don't know where to go or who to turn to. I am tired of being called names and then asked why I am crying. I am tired of dealing with BPD and ADD and there is never any attempt to get help. And, it's not like I am perfect. It's not like I don't get I can be stubborn or I can cause pain. But when the tables are turned, and I am pushed to my own breaking point and I finally lash out, I am called every name in the book and then 'recorded' or threatened, or called a whore, or holes are punched in walls, things that are important are broken, but hey, it's me who needs to be 'recorded' because I might be saying something offensive or abusive, except, usually, it is something taken the wrong way and it is a misunderstanding - but heaven forbid that is acceptable.
It is enough I think. Time to figure out where to go...sometimes I feel like a motherless child...
oh wait...
posted by Colette at 10:40 AM
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