Lost In My Head

Breaking

My mom's in India right now, cause my grandma may or may not have cancer and she wants to be with her.

I should be sad about my grandma, right?

I think I cried maybe once over her.

I've cried so many times over losing some book, and I cried once for my grandma.

I've never actually acknowledged that, though. I feel horrible about it, but that's it. That's the problem. I still don't feel sad over my grandma, I feel sad because I don't feel sad for my grandma.

I'm a horrible human being, and I keep telling myself it's because I probably have a different coping mechanism than other people and that I'm just ignoring it because that's how I cope. But I know that bullshit isn't true. I know it's I don't feel anything about it at all, and I don't want to add that to my laundry list of reasons as to why I'm a horrible person.

Even now, I just talked to her on a video call, and I saw it. I saw the how the chemo took her hair away, how it left her once full face, gaunt. I saw it, and I still didn't cry.

Wait I did.

I did cry.

But not for her, I cried because I missed my mom. I cried because when my mom asked me if she should stay another week, I nodded my head and said yes. I said yes, when every fiber of my being sobbed no.

I miss my mom, but at the same time I don't.

My father is very easy to manipulate, and he forgives very very easily, so there are less rules for me now. I no longer have to do things my mom's way. I can get away with a lot more now. So, I've been pushing every limit and fighting every rule. Simply because I can.

But it breaks my already broken heart that, that is the way I think now. That I see my father as a mere pawn in my little game, a puppet to my every whim and fancy. When did I become this? When did I end up being the cause of so many of my tears. When did I start looking at my body and my personality and my spirit, and seeing the brokenness, but turning away from it? When did I start to emulate my friend's personality because I thought that if I was like her, a guy would like me? When did I start to hate myself so much? Why?

I am not, fat. Even as I type those words, they ring "false" in my head. Even as I type these words, I do not believe them. When did I stop believing them?

When did I start seeing myself for what I was?

When did I start seeing my heart as broken, fractured pieces, put clumsily back together with smiles and laughs? When did I realize that I was broken.

When did I normalize having an anxiety attack, to the point where I would joke about it?

When did I start replaying in my head my sister saying that "she had anxiety attacks too", but when I asked her why she said my panic attack was being dramatic, she said that "I was being dramatic"?

When did I stop even remotely liking myself?

When did I start thinking about how many meals I could skip? When did I start weighing myself every day and using that number as a measure of self-worth?

When did I become so tired?

When did I become. So. Broken?