An epiphany I had today that I don't want to forget:
One of the most detrimental things I concluded from the way I grew up is that no one will ever help me, save me or even love me (not really, not unconditionally, not all the way) except ME. It's all on me. If I need something, I get it. I will never ask you for it. I simply do not trust you to give it to me. Sorry about it.
There have been countless times this year already that I've been floored by how difficult I have made my own motherfucking life. Here I am, for example, lugging huge pieces of furniture and boxes up flights of stairs to my classroom, through narrow doorways, alone, in the heat, pouring sweat, tripping on myself, getting hurt, only for someone to say later, "Oh why didn't you just ask me for help?" With a look on their face that's almost... upset. Disappointed. Definitely annoyed.
I'm over here like, Huh?
Do people do that? Do people really feel like they can go up to someone and just get help, for no reason, without giving them something in return? It baffles me. I could never. I don't even think about it. It's instinct: I know I'm doing this alone. Whatever it is, I'm alone. Even if I'm not, I am, because you won't know when I'm at the end of my rope. I will never tell you.
I just won't ask.
I'll wish for your help. I'll fantasize about it. I'll resent you for not giving it. But I won't fucking ask.
I guess I missed something. Everything feels like some monumental task I'm having to slog through all the time, expending every bit of energy I have, but maybe life is supposed to be easier than this and everyone just knows it because they get help. Do you?
YOU ARE READING
Maybe We Should Go Back
Non-FictionI decided to make a space to rant, discuss, review and just get things off my chest. Please note that mental illness and addiction are things I live with, so this might be triggering to some. I'm holding nothing back.
