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.
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.
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