i guess it's a good thing i never changed the name of my blog because you, my two readers, are probably the only people in the world who don't think i'm malicious and conniving. possibly even including me.
i had my first serious breakdown in a long time. the kind that i used to have, only probably about ten times worse. it started out with me getting pissed at my dad. my mom jumped in so that i got pissed at her, and not him, because she didn't want me resenting him if she doesn't make it past this blood clot. stupid, yes, but effective. i yelled at her instead. and she cried. she cried and asked me, "why are you dong this?"
and that question right there sent me hurdling into the person i used to be. the person i had locked up inside of me, but who had been secretly keeping tally of every wrong i've ever committed.
when i was a little girl, i used to sob and sob in bed, longing to beg forgiveness of whoever i had ever hurt in my lifetime. my mom would have to tell me that they probably weren't even affected by whatever i thought had "changed the way they looked at me."(that's the way i put it.) that it was okay to let go and to forgive myself.
and i would fall asleep, not-so wracked with guilt anymore, and eventually that monster of guilt could be locked up by my six-year-old arms. or that's what i thought.
i guess i just couldn't control it anymore...the tallies had overtaken and flooded the doors that bound that guilt inside of me. but this time, it was different than when i was six. because i am seventeen, but the six-year-old in me came out. and she was terrified of what she had become. she cried until her nose bled and she dry-heaved on the bathroom floor. and the seventeen me was scared, too. we were both terrified of this monster i became. the six-year-old part couldn't stop repeating to her daddy not to open the door, that i am bad and would hurt him. and i just kept hating myself, because i, at seventeen, am capable of turning that fear into hatred.
i wanted myself dead for having become such a horrible entity. for realizing that as i cried, my sick mother got sicker and sicker, which sent me into heavier sobs and the search for a toilet bowl. i had literally lost the ability to walk. i was entirely too human. (i refuse to let myself think subhuman. i was dealing with the emotions of a six-year-old, but they had the force of much more than that. i handled it as best i could.) and when my mom made me go to her room and hug her, i recoiled. i fell back to the floor where i belonged and wrapped myself in my limbs as my dad pushed and pulled me to her.
and in that moment when he pushed me, i closed my heart off. i realized the power, began using it when i could. especially when sitting across from my mother's psychiatrist. a situation i can't handle because she just shoves more emotion down my already drowning trachea.
so that's what i've been forced to. i lock my heart in a little box, and no one can have it except me and the two of you and gitsy and sometimes my mommy. no one else is allowed to touch it, because they pinch it and twist it and try to shove it into an even tinier box.
right now, my heart needs help. it's terrified that it can't be loved. that it's mommy is dying. that it's alone. that it can't go on with all of this weight piled on top of it.
it needs love. so that's what i'm begging for now. i need you to help me hold my heart, and to love it for me even when i can't. especially when i can't.
i love you two so much, and i'll try so hard not to hurt you. i know i'm bad at that. and i'll try to stay open to you. i'm sorry if i ever can't be...just tell me if you see me start to close myself off to you, and i'll try to stay open. i will.
this sounds scary, rereading it.
and it is. but i'm not gone, and i'm not mental.
i'm here.
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