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.
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