I’m not good with my own. I can listen to others and empathize and understand, but I feel like I’m not allowed to have my own.
I know a lot of this has to do with my childhood. Feelings, good or bad, were not allowed. So I spent the first thirty years of my life stuffing my feelings and they’ve been coming out sideways for as long as I can remember.
When I was very little it was pulling my hair out and biting my nails. When I got a little older, maybe nine, it was cutting. Next came binging and purging and inhaling aerosol chemicals. Then as a teenager it was starving myself. Now as an adult it’s been drinking. And I still go through these cycles , just not as extreme.
And the sick thing is, I want these behaviors, well at least the comfort they provide. I want the numbing and the not having to deal with feelings.
But I’m an adult now, I’m rational and capable and can make better choices.
That doesn’t take away the want.
I have feelings today. And they are all mixed up. It’s Monday. If things were normal I would have a session with T, but I had my last session with her last Monday.
I’m sad. It feels like a fresh loss even though I saw it coming. I feel like she guided me into being an adult. I feel like I lost a parent. And I hate the part of myself that feels this childish attachment. And I hate my parents right now. And I feel so awful saying that because I never use the word hate. I don’t really wish them ill, I just hate that I never had healthy attachments or relationships. I never even had them modeled to me. I hate my brother right now. I don’t wish him ill either, I just hate that he was abusive. We should have been in it together. We had the same childhood. We should have been friends.
I hate that Ive had to pay to experience a relationship that was supposed to be given to me by people who were supposed to love me.
And I guess they loved me in their own way. But it sucked.
I hate that my adoptive mom died when I was 21. I have so much regret there. We never had a good relationship. I was a problem to be managed. When I asked her why she signed for me to get married at sixteen and wouldn’t even let me color my hair she told me that she needed me to be someone else’s problem. I wanted a good relationship with her. I used to think that when I grew up I could make her life better. She was depressive and didn’t work or drive or have friends. I thought when I grew up I could take her places and do things with her and she would love me.
I hate that my birth mother is so flakey and untrustworthy. I hate that she has never tried to have a relationship with me. I feel not good enough, like there is something so defective about me that I don’t deserve to have that kind of relationship.
I feel numb about my relationship with my Dad. He is a good person and I care about him, but I didn’t have a real relationship with him growing up and he’s never tried to have one with me. I talk to him once every few months when I call.
I hate that my birth mom killed my dad before I could ever know him. I met him once when I was ten or eleven and all he said was “Damn girl, you got braces”.
Gah, I hate feelings.