One Year, 9 months ago

21 months. That’s how long it’s been since I last posted anything on this blog. My whole world has changed. The world is in a goddamn pandemic. I cannot believe how quickly and slowly time has gone by, and how much fucked up shit has gone on. There is so much that is STILL going on. And that’s not even regarding my own life in a personal way.

 

I am not the same person I was by any means. I’d like to think my core self is still there, but my deepest self is severely wounded, distorted, and broken. Everything in my life imploded, and yet I’m still alive. I risk my life every day just to go to work, and it’s been this way for nearly two years, and I’m still alive. I have been confronted by my fears, even my biggest fear, and I’m still alive. My core self needed to be uprooted and taken out, let out. There was no more data I could collect. Crises confronted me. Things I couldn’t ignore or dismiss anymore pressured me to speak up, to speak out, to say stop, to say I’ve had enough. If you have been my audience, you know I was on the verge of standing up to my family, standing up for myself, and drawing hard boundaries between myself and them in general. But now its been 21 months, and I haven’t seen most of them since February 2020. I haven’t spoken to most of them since then, too. Like I said, I imploded. I went inward, withdrew as much as I could allow myself. Last year, I powered through the first year of the pandemic. Working, distancing, learning, trying to function, trying to just survive. 

There have been so many losses. Deaths to Covid. Deaths to violence. Fascism more and more on the rise. Car crashes. Break ups. Divorces. Unspoken love. Unspoken anger. Blocked calls. Blocked emails. Deleted messages. Torn families. Broken hearts. So much loss. There have been a lot of lies revealed. The curtain has been torn, and we’ve seen how terribly flawed humans are, and how disgustingly selfish they are as well. 

Every layer of trauma I have has demanded to be seen, to be addressed, to finally be accepted and felt. I drove home last night, getting hit with the realization that I do not feel safe to be in my family anymore. That is real life. I cannot make light of that reality. My parents are not good people, and they are not safe for me to be near, allow into my life, or have any contact with me. My family doesn’t even know where I live. That is how unsafe I know they are. Maybe one day, when I am more healed and grown, I can address them face to face. But I also cringe over the thought of seeing their faces, interacting, talking, updating, or being ignored and dismissed. I cringe over the thought of hearing their voices and hearing their lies. I truly want nothing to do with 99% of them. I’m skeptical of closeness with the two I still feel okay to at least connect with on social media. I’m still nervous because they’re related to me. Anyone related to me can’t be trusted. They’re so fucked up, mentally ill or otherwise. I don’t need their love, validation, interaction, or fake connection. I don’t want it either. So, I genuinely cant see a future with them in it. That hurts. That breaks my heart. 

“Life can be so tragic, but we have to move on.” I’m sorry, future Han. I’m so sorry this is reality. I fought so hard to make it otherwise, but I think deep down you always knew. You always knew what would happen “when I’m done trying.” You always knew your love would have to have limits. You built up a wall between you and them. “There’s no tearing down that brick wall.” I’m so sorry your biggest fear has happened; you were separated from your family. But you were always separated from them. That’s why you did everything you could. But I promised myself that I’d walk away from things when it’s time. And it really hurts when it seems like all I get to do is walk away. I have generally let things play out as they will, but I am aware of the endings when I see them. I can feel them coming before they happen. “I count the cost before the future’s happening.” I was not wrong, but I didn’t want to be right. I calculate the risks, and see if its worth the cost. My wellbeing stopped being worth sacrificing because it was literally destroying my body. I probably have done enough damage to my body by ignoring its needs, its emotions, its humanness. I just hope it isn’t irreparable. 

It’s hard to see my influence on others when I guess I truly don’t focus on myself. I didn’t. I focused on the hunt for truth, information, intelligence, education, friendships, others growth, and others happiness. Damn have I had a wake up call. It’s like a Saturn return but without me actually turning 30 yet. I always felt 27 was a special number, a special age. It was significant, that’s for sure. 28 feels more significant. I’ve had time to actually emotionally feel through all the things I realized/learned last year. I spent all of last year listening to psych book after psych book, learning about my trauma and my family, and SO MUCH MORE. It was insane the amount of information I consumed. I just needed to understand. I was brainwashed, I was neglected and abused, and I was slandered. My mother had an extremely inappropriate dependency on me, and was an emotional leech and manipulator. My whole family honestly had too much dependency on me being the family dog. They just wanted me to sit still, be perfectly adorable and accommodating, the cute little tagalong, but to also unconditionally support them and their causes. I don’t even have a relationship with 2 out of 3 siblings. This is reality. I am so sorry, Han. My family took advantage of my dualistic nature, and I was done throwing myself at their mercy. They are cruel, and I don’t believe we will reconcile one day. Something drastic would have to change, and also be made very apparent. Why try to get the approval of people so cruel and so selfish? Why try to be loved and accepted by people whose demonstration of love to others is something so incredibly toxic, you had to adjust who you are so they could handle it? 

When you hit the bottom, the lowest emotional low that your heart can go, death doesn’t sound so bad. I’m not trying to tempt fate, but I don’t think anyone’s death would change reality. I’m still paranoid they’ll show up at my place of work. Tragedy has happened, and I haven’t felt tempted to reach out for connection or reconciliation. I know what their religious extremist brains would think. “Prodigal daughter returns.” Puke. I’m not the one running away from something. I STOPPED TRYING. I stopped pretending. I didn’t want them involved in my life anymore, I just hadn’t fully accepted how ugly and hateful they are. I still saw the good. But those were glimpses. Faded memories at that point, in 2020. Ironic how 2020 “cleared” my vision, my perception. Well, it started the ground work for me being able to do self-therapy now. I am not their prodigal child kink. I do not need them, nor am I wasting any inheritance. Honestly, I plan on building a legacy of my own, and they can suck it. I will never need them again, and honestly I never did. I spent most of my youth trying to get away from them, to fly under the radar, just so I could finally get out. I hope I never have to curl into myself again like I have for the last two years, and truly longer than that. 

I tend to be really bad at wrapping these things up. I usually vent til I’m all vented out. There is so much I haven’t said though. It’s been two years. I’ve written a lot, and in other spaces, but this one is different. I’ve had it for ten years. Wow. I’ve come here for ten years. okay, technically 8, but I’ve been rereading a lot lately. Sharing with some trusted friends. I have come to embrace being alone with myself. I really enjoy my own company, and I try to communicate with inner child me, the one that’s been stuck for so long. I grew up fast, but then stopped growing. But not anymore. I’ve fought tooth and nail to get on top of my life, to become the curator of my story, and to speak for myself. I won’t do what I don’t feel comfortable doing. I wont be who I don’t feel comfortable being. “I am me, only me.” That’s always been the case. My core self will be remade with the healed adult parts of myself now. 

Oh, my heart

Oh, mama, mama

Why can’t you call me back?

I’ve tried to make or break 

But I’m slipping thru the cracks 

Where did your heart go

When did I fade to black 

Oh, father, father

Why can’t you follow through?

You were supposed to be different,

But you were just as detached, too

Where does your pride hide

When did it block me from view

Oh, sister, sister

Why can’t you learn to listen?

You’ve choked on envy

While I broke myself with patience

Where is your noose to hang me

When did I only become competition 

Oh, my heart, my heart

Why can’t you just let it go?

Why are they larger than life

Taking up a big slice

Where can I repair myself

When did I become so insignificant

Oh, mama, mama

Why can’t you love me back?

Why can’t you love me

Why can’t you love

Why can’t you

Why can’t 

Why

Depression

There’s a dark cloud hanging over me

And it won’t rise and leave.

The sun doesn’t know how to push through

And find a way to light my eyes.

I’m broken within

The cracks won’t go away

I thought that shadows 

Only followed sunshine

But it’s midnight black

And I’ve lost sense of time.

There is a film that’s layered on my skin

And it won’t scrub off.

The rain doesn’t know how to wash clean

My mascara stained windows.

She’s angry he said nothing

She’s angry I wasn’t direct

She’s screaming because he’s gone

She’s cutting into her scars again.

I’m breaking down again

I can’t get my legs to move

No use in getting out of bed.

The cracks in my heart

Won’t go away

I thought that shadows

Only followed sunshine

But it’s midnight black

And I’ve lost all sense of time.

July 29, 2017

Running Water

When will I outgrow this blog? Maybe never. I called off work today because I woke up from bad dreams that gave me so much anxiety. The last one was telling me to call off work, so I did. I'm at a coffee shop I've never been to which is actually just less than two miles from one of my friends' houses. But I need solitude. I spent the weekend around some friends, and then just with my dog. I guess today I still needed more. Even though she's just a dog, when I spend day with her, it still feels like my energy is drained as if I were spending time with a friend. Which honestly is the case. I feel exhausted.

I partially miss the period of my life where I did school in the morning and then spent the afternoon reading, writing, and drinking coffee at a local shop that was farrrr off campus. I think I often still feel so isolated, so blocked off in my thoughts and my feelings. There is always this low hum of heaviness, or loneliness, in my head or on my body. My emotional world is so powerful that it hits my physical world like an opponent punches their boxing mate. I just happen to always do it to myself. At the same time, I do have a sense of superiority, but simply because I am able to notice everything. I've come to notice all things about myself, and it has become so easy to read others. I recognize the humanity in them, but that doesn't mean I have to like them or let those reasons be excuses for their shitty behavior or reactions to me. I hold onto feelings with clenched hands, and I put them through a lot of tests to see what will remain in the end. I only want to keep the purest form of that feeling and throw out all the excess "fat."

There is always more to experience, more to be had. And there is a longing for more that is growing in my chest and will not be set aside. I don't know what it will encompass or where it will take me, but I know I need to start mending my wings, my source of mobility, and get to my feet. I want to move. Still. That desire won't go away. And I'm afraid I've become too dependent on the validation from my close friends here. I want that to change. But there is always a weird part of me that's deeply detached simultaneously. I'm restless, and continually feel like my energy is overly exerted, and I reveal too much. Even if I don't. I've never seen so much of my weakness until I've seen others' weaknesses or lack of maturity and evolve-ment. I always want to be progressing, learning, growing, and becoming stronger. I'm already bored at my new job. Anyone could do it half ass and it wouldn't make a difference. They would still get paid the same as I do, when I'm anxiously stressing over the details. I wish I made tons of money so that money didn't matter, but I mostly wish money didn't matter.

I know there is a yin and yang to everything. That's the mistake so many others in my life make. They overlook that there is an opposite to everything. They demand all these one sided ways of living, and then there is no balance. I painfully recognize the imbalance and chaos of my world and the people in it. I know the ugly truth about every single person I've invested in, and my mind tells me to be compassionate and empathetic, but my heart tells me that there is imbalance, and unfairness. I don't get back the amount I give at the rate I give, to the extent I give. It may be better than it used to be, with past friends and past me. But there is still this gaping distance between what I give and what I take. It seems that I am constantly pouring into what I believe something could be, and I convince my brain it is that thing before it ever is. So, then I'm devastated when I realize the potential never manifested. That was the ugly truth that hit my head recently about my siblings and my parents. Everything I ever thought we were had never come to be, and it was all my dreams and hopes that I had put so much stock into... but not reality. There's how you feel about something, how you think about it, and then reality. Reality is always jarring, whether it's good or bad, more like positive or negative.

I can sense my time in this area, in this space, is expiring and going to end soon. I don't know where it will then lead me, and where I will go. I'm so bored of this space, the way things are going, and how no one wants to change and grow in physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual ways with me. They don't want to change how they are, and I'm just constantly making way for them to be stagnant while I feel like I'm aching to heal and be somewhere, to fully become someone. People demand my empathy and give nothing to fill my energy back up. Until I'm telling someone how awful I'm doing, they don't have enough initiative to even show TLC to me. I literally have to be screaming for anyone to notice, but I see their slightest discomfort, even when they are lying to my face and saying they're fine. Can't anyone see through to me? Can't anyone help pull me into a new space that isn't so heavy? Why must I do all the emotional labor at all times? I'm exhausted.

I want to run away.

Avoidance

Any day now, I will get a new laptop and it won't be as slow as the one I've got now. Just kidding. That is so low on the priority list right now, but it would be a nice thing to do. I don't remember the last time I used it, but I'd probably use it more if I refurbished it. Anyway.

I made myself drive to the coffeehouse I've met Megan at a few times now, and I am making myself sit still and type and drink a latte. It's been a while since I've done this, and it was my heart and soul when I was in school. I gave myself time to write a lot more back then, but I also needed it to keep my creative inspo flowing. Today is heavy. It seems like it's heavy for the barista that took my order, too. "Living the dream" was his response when I asked how he was. We all know that is code for "I really can't say how I am." I hate phrases like that. Just be obscurely honest. It's rough day, but I'll be okay. My instinct is to seem like I am really well, not necessarily happy, but strong. My latte cost $7 with a tip, so you can perk up for a second, buddy.

I'm avoiding why I'm here. Why am I at a coffee shop, making myself pause and drink a latte, and use this stupidly slow computer? I need to talk. I'm going to cry. I don't know if I'm depressed. There are some things about how I am now that I don't know if I am apathetic or if I'm depressed. Do things that made me happy not make me happy anymore because I don't care about them or has my imbalanced brain told me otherwise? I guess I should simply try to live in the moment and not overthink about it. If something doesn't matter right now, then I should just keep moving and not make an ordeal out of it.

Part of me doesn't want to put in the energy to talk about my brother or my sister. I've spent years wringing myself dry trying to be empathetic and placing effort, energy, love, and investment in them. But I can't do it anymore, and it's for various reasons. I can't compare them because they aren't the same, but they still manage to treat people like shit whom they supposedly value most. He is a lazy, coward who lives in self-pity and regret. She is a bully who lives in denial and thinks gifts and attention will fill the emptiness and guilt living in her body. I don't care if their feelings are based on valid experiences. They use how they feel and what they think to inflict pain on others, and they use guilt to try to control. You will not guilt me. You will not use me.

I held anger and hurt so deeply in my body, and I still do this. I try to bury it and beat my body into submission. I used to self harm, I used to punch my own chest, I used to over workout, and I still push myself into submission. But I am trying to surround it with healthy goals and healthy thoughts. The difference now is I go to the gym to build myself up, sort through heavy feelings, and make true progress. I am obsessive about it, but it's been in my life for 6 years now.

Maybe this won't turn into a rant, but I know it's good for me to write when I am heavy. I don't write songs anymore, but I still write poetry. It's much more direct and raw than ever before. Maybe that's the message I am supposed to be getting to, being more direct and raw. I don't mean that I will verbally attack them, but part of me doesn't know. I want to have the courage to address the issues head on, and I know that when I am forced to, I don't back down. People underestimate me. My family definitely does, but they will learn, and I know they are learning already. I was viewed like I was little, tiny, baby, fragile, undetermined, broken, selfish, fake, weak, quiet, passive, changeable, easily swayed... Nope. That isn't me. It's strange how the one person that was viewed like this, so tiny and impressionable, is the one that everyone wants approval from. That's why they try to make me smaller and cuter and sweeter than I really am. They want me to like them and always be looking up to them.

I don't fight for people. I love for them. I've had to take up so much space trying to fill in the cracks where people didn't love me enough. And I'm done. I'm done doing that. That's when my best friendships were realized. People who made me want to fight to hold on, who made me want to fight things out, talk things out. I've stopped trying to keep the peace with people I love most and been more direct and raw. It's scary, and I still get so much anxiety, but I confront them. (Thank God not all my friends and I have had to fight, but I do at least talk that shit out now). But I will never be in a place like that with my brother and sister. Unless, some divine miracle were to happen, and healing and real growth were to blossom on their hearts. 

Hurt

When did I get misrepresented as this impressionable piece of clay? I know that we start that way when we are children, but we watch and listen, we grow and become. There seems to be this belief among some that I don't form my own opinions, and that I am easily persuaded toward this way or that. No, I am not as stubborn as the majority of my family, and I am not spiteful or aggressive like most of them either. I am not less because of that. It isn't necessary to me to fight for fighting's sake. It isn't important for me to have all my thoughts heard, understood, and accepted. I realized a long time ago that I am the only one who will every fully have my own back, but it isn't just me. We are all that way, and yet people refuse to accept that. It's useless to try to make someone be okay with something they've decided they aren't, and it's nonsense to try to push someone into doing something they don't want to do. Yet my family talks to me like I have to be pliable and changeable toward their wills and their whims. They talk to me like their feelings and beliefs are facts, and they justify their anger, meanness, and pettiness. It is not my problem that they can't separate themselves from their identity in their beliefs. It is not my job to cater to each one of them. I won't pick up the responsibilities of 5 other people. This isn't a college group project; this is supposed to be a family.

I was not truly important to you until you thought we could be on the same team. All you have ever wanted from me was a devoted follower of whatever bullshit you ascribed meaning. Excuse me if I don't blindly attack someone once I hear all sides to a story. Sorry I don't say sorry and beg for forgiveness when I know I am not wrong and it is a matter of difference of opinion. I have a lot more agency here than most of you have been willing to give me. I have been making my own choices for a very long time, guilt stricken and anxiety riddled, and I've made it here. I never asked for your opinion and I haven't offered mine. Why can't differences just be accepted and we can exclude ourselves from each other's social media or personal beliefs to keep the peace? Unity is more important than black and white thinking. Honestly, if it were up to the jaded part of me, I'd thrown in the towel, and move to a place none of you could ever find me again.

This is me making a promise to myself to always stand up for me. I will not let them knock me around again. I will not let them silence me. Their manipulations and ploys to guilt me into being who they want or doing what they want will not have a hold on me. I will not play into their hand. I will represent my name, and my name alone. I will stand up against mistreatment and pettiness, but I will not sign my name onto anyone's roster. I didn't choose for them to have the problems with each other that they have. I didn't make those choices to talk to them the way they talk to one another. I have hurt them before, yes, but it hasn't been from maliciousness or purposefully trying to make them angry. I am going to be my own person and I will hold myself accountable (which is more than what anyone of you can say because you just sit any justify yourself or you say god keeps you accountable). I am not afraid to be wrong, but mostly because I don't proclaim every fucking thought I have or belief I have as right for the masses. I don't need the approval of temperamental people or a maybe real/maybe not real temperamental god. I'm exhausted at being pushed to the middle. I am not glue. I am not the binding of this book. I didn't ask for any of this, but here we fucking are, and here I am being forced to play a role I never wanted.

No more. I choose me and my mental health. I will choose to play the role I want, and I will shut you down if you try to manipulate me or impose your guilt on me. I am not a brainwashed toddler anymore. I am not an overwhelmed, emotional 12 year old anymore. I am not a self-harming 19 year old anymore. I am not a depressed, questioning 23 year old anymore. I have taken my time getting here, and you will not shake me down. I will not crumble under the weight of your feelings, opinions, and desires. I have been crushed and reformed into a diamond, and now I am beyond your grasp and cannot be broken again by you. I am tired of being afraid to speak up, and I will say what I think when I decide. I will let you down, and you will have to grow the fuck up.

Does This Count As Therapy?

It's started to stay warm consistently now, and with the warmth comes reflection and energy. Let's be honest, I am generally always reflecting all year 'round. I haven't paused to write here for over a month now, and I think I should try to work out some stuff going on in my mind. I have been writing poetry more often, and I am happy about that. There are often things that pop into my mind that I have to just put out, formulate, and create into poetry. (Ary is trying to get me to play fetch with her now, which is unfortunate timing.)

I first want to address how awful my body image and self talk has become. And it isn't constant. It comes in waves, ripples, and sometimes tsunamis. I don't know what it is exactly that makes some of these periods so bad and then go away. I'm paranoid. I don't want to become like some of the people in my family that have bad relationships with food, nor do I want to repeat in my head "don't be like x person" because I could end up pushing myself into a bad place still, by becoming the opposite and not eating enough. I've only ever wanted to find balance, and I know that sometimes things will be wobbly and not exact. But I bully myself when that happens... when the scales tip a little. I'm terrified of getting a big gut, especially since I am already prone to intestinal issues and anxiety builds up so much tension in the gut. I want to enjoy life and enjoy foods I like, but I also want to take care of myself and not punish my body. And then I don't, but I punish my MIND.

When I was younger, my mom would compare me to my siblings whenever I said or did something she didn't like. She'd say "You're being like Jeffrey" or "if you do anything like x sibling, i'll kick you out" and that shit has stuck with me to this day. I've been reading a book my friend B gave me, and it's really revealed bullshit cycles that played in my growing up years. I resent that I was ever compared to my siblings. Since I was a child, I wanted to be my own person and not have anyone crowd into that space, but I wasn't allowed to have that space. I didn't have the space to be open and out about the stuff I dealt with, the things I felt, the experiences I had, the thoughts I had, because I couldn't be openly "rebellious" like all my siblings had been. I could only show I wasn't okay when the hurt made sense to my parents, but when I ached and self harmed, and when I felt heavy and filled with darkness, I had to conceal it. There was no space for that. I hated being told who I was and how to be, but I couldn't show any other colors in our family. That's what I thought. I thought I wouldn't be loved if I showed that I wasn't black or white. I've always been gray, and that may never be okay with my parents. I know Holly resented me for be gray, though she wouldn't really understand what that means without  me explaining it a bit. I wasn't direct, I wasn't HER, I held back, I bit my tongue, I kept so much to myself, and I controlled my image. I was controlled yet emotional, I was withdrawn but personable. I remember being 14 and engaging with new kids to our church because I thought "I'd want me to talk to her if I was her."

I'll only do what I have to do to survive. I will always take care of myself. I've wanted to assert my individualistic personality and my independence since I was 14, but my mom wouldn't let me. I wanted to start taking responsibility for myself, and I wasn't allowed. I wanted a job. Nope. I wanted to get a job so I could pay for my own cellphone. Nope. And then I was given one but with all these strings attached. My texts being monitored, my phone calls being monitored, the numbers I contacted were managed. That was why I wasn't allowed to get a job and pay for my own phone. I wanted to definitely get my own phone plan when I was 19, and I wasn't allowed. And I get it now. My mom wanted to be able to keep tabs on me always. She could go through all my phone records. And she always assumed the worst. She literally accused me of staying out all night with a friend of mine who was away in SC for college, when I told her I was in Greenfield at my friend Rachel's. But she didn't like that story. It didn't fit her poor victim cycle. What horrible children she has. They are such liars. And they wonder why we hid so much from them. They set us up to be disobedient liars. I could never come to them with the truth about anything. I'd vent to my mom about how a bf treated me, and somehow it would be twisted and be my fault. Always. I'm making myself mad right now.

Over dinner with my partner, my mom tried to play this game of "wow i was such a sweet, loving mom because i couldn't let my poor baby be without a pet." Are you fucking kidding me? So you couldn't handle me being sad that my pets were being devastatingly murdered on our front porch by cars. That makes sense? But I never asked for a replacement to Ada. So you provided a way for me to have a pet. Cool. You made me think my sister was going to molest me and left me scared to be close to her for years. So, that's nice.

I need to stop for now. I'm getting myself worked up.