There's many things that I feel in my head. The most outstanding emotion being anger. I'm constantly angry at something, mostly myself. Angry that I've managed to mess up so many relationships, burning the bridge beyond repair. Angry that I've allowed myself to get walked over, time and time again. Angry that I've caused endless amount of pain to others. Mostly I am angry at how i was never heard, constantly ignored by the ones in my eyes mattered most to me.
Time and time again I was left behind by those who truly didn't care about me, like I cared about them. Putting all of my energy into them, to never get anything back in return.
"Relationships are a two way street".
Was something my own mother always told me growing up when I would feel hurt by those who ignored me. The biggest hypocrite there ever was, was my own mother. She left me in the ocean when I needed to be saved from drowning. Anytime I'd go to her, and confide, and be vulnerable with her, I was shunned. She didn't want to accept that her family wasn't the "perfect, all American family". I was the flaw in her plan, and I know she resented me for that. She hated the fact that one of her children could possibly be mentally ill. She made me feel so much shame for something that is actually quite common. I spent years of my life silenced, in fear of what others would think of me. It felt easier that way. To silence myself so others would think I'm quote on quote, normal. Engraved in my brain from an early age, that if you're not, pretty, skinny, tan, blonde, healthy, mentally, and physically, you weren't worth it. I spent so long hiding who I was, and my emotions to try to be "perfect", spoiler, I never was in the first place, but then again, who really is?
We as humans are designed to be flawed, it's what makes us humans. It's what makes the moments real, our experience valid. I was taught from an early age to hide my flaws so the world wouldn't see what went on behind closed doors. What I was trained to do my whole life was to show people what my mother thought as 'acceptable'. To put on a brave face, and not allow others to see the tornado ripping through that was inside my head. Even to her I couldn't show her the shit storm that was my brain. Anytime on of my walls would begin to crack, and I began to show just a sliver of what mess really was hiding behind those walls, I was yelled and belittled. Called weak for having human emotions. Then I would be turned away for simply being real. I'm convinced she knew what she was doing to me. I mean, there's no way she didn't, I think she was trying to condition my brain to not think the way it was thinking. What she didn't understand, is she was causing far more harm than good. Years of this vicious cycle repeating itself. Until, one day I quite literally snapped. It felt like a fuse blew in my brain or something like that. I began to starve myself, for her to be able to see the pain she had caused me my whole life. Thinking maybe she'll finally want me. Naive eighteen year old me, really had no clue what was heading for her. Almost instantly I just stopped eating, my only source of nutrients for the longest time was a single orange bell pepper, and two clementines. She still didn't notice the pain I was in. I mean, how clear could I make it, I was dropping weight at a rapid pace. When my fuse blew, I was almost 300 pounds, in a short few months I lost almost fifty pounds, yet I continued to go unseen by her, I still wasn't perfect to her standards.
This went on for years, even when I was no longer living under the flaming roof. My body began to fail me, along with my mind. I was a ghost. I didn't feel real anymore, fully convinced my body wasn't mine, I could see what I had made myself into, but in my unwell mind, I was still that 300 pound girl who her mom never loved. I was sick and so in denial of it. Painfully unaware of the unfixable damage I was causing to my body. I still to this day don't know how I made it out of that stage alive. I remember one Thanksgiving, I told my mom that I needed help with my eating, that it was a serious problem.
"I know you took diet pills to loose all that weight I'm not dumb Alexis".
That conversation ended real quick, I didn't even respond to her. It became a challenge in my my sick, twisted mind. How close to the edge can I get for me to be seen? I was angry at her, but then again, I had every right to be. I wanted to bash her face in for making me feel so small, yet again. She was really good at making me constantly feel inferior to her. Simply, because I was never good enough in her eyes.
A few years later I began to heal myself, I started going to therapy to unravel to storm of my past. A constant topic in my sessions is how I crave my mothers love even though, it will always be unattainable. So far out of my reach. It opened up many conversations, I didn't know I needed to be having. Opening my eyes to the true monster she was. What she engraved in my head. She created my demons. Guess what? I'm fucking angry about that. Had she shown me loved and nurtured me like a parent is supposed to do, my life could be vastly different than it is now. Because of her actions, I now have to wake up every morning and take a stupid little pill that allows me to function like a 'normal' human being does. That stupid cream colored capsule, I'll have to rely on for the rest of my life for some sense of normalcy, and I'm angry about it.
However, as I've aged and become -slightly- more wise in my years I've come to realize one thing; the anger I've felt my whole life, is simply just long drawn out feeling of grief. I was never angry. I do think there was times I was truly angry, and that's okay. The real feeling I was feeling was grief in its purest form. Grieving of what could've been my life had I been loved and not emotionally neglected as a child. Listened to and heard when I needed someone to listen to me, but I was never able to get that from her. I was never able to experience the love from a mother, those late night talks, the shoulder to cry on after a hard break up, the advice I needed when I fucked up. I never got that from her. So I must grieve what I lost in order to heal from that. I was never angry, I was grieving.
I'm allowed to grieve.
