Hope

And so I commit myself to these things time and time again. Even though, I know the odds of what's to come. I will not stop believing, for it is what gives me hope, it is what I long for.

Heartbreak

I am angry, and I know I should be, hell I have every right to be. But sometimes when its quiet, and late at night, I remember what brought me there in the first place, and I cry. I cry for what was. I cry for what might have been. I cry for what will never be. It makes it harder, but out allows my heart not to harden, so maybe some day i will be brave enough to share it again.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

This week I learned something so important to me. All this time I have thought of myself a weak. Because of the depression. Because of my failed marriage. Because my current marriage is not very stable. Because of my anxiety. Because I am not always as assertive as I should be. Because I just don't think of myself as the Joan of Arc type, though I wish I were.

Well, this week that changed a little. This week had been really beating me up emotionally, as well as, physically.in the midst of that was my baby girl. My wise beyond her years, little wonder. She spotted me crying and immediately wanted to run to my side. Her grandmother said "your Momma is ok. Sometimes even grown-ups need to cry, but she's ok" and my daughter responded with "but you don't understand, Momma only cries when she is really hurt". At that moment I realized that, not only do I have the sweetest child on the planet, but that in her eyes I am strong. I am strong until I can no longer be strong, and even then I'm strong for a little longer. In her eyes, her Momma was not weak, not clinically depressed, but a strong woman. And if he Momma was crying, it was not for no reason, someone had hurt her.

Wow, what a wonderful feeling to not only feel how much your child loves you, but that she thinks you are strong enough to stand alone most of the time. To feel that to see me cry meant someone or something bad must have happened, because her strong Momma would not cry unless she was really hurt. Made me proud of myself, and proud of her. Out of the mouths of babes, as they say.

36 years of pain

Wed is my birthday. I will be 36 years old and I will have spent the majority of those 36 years trying to make people like me, love me, or at least respect me. Hell in some cases I'd settle for just seeing me, me as I really am, without changes, or conditions. Lately, it has all come to a head. I got married to someone my family disapproves of. This new act of disloyalty, as it has been seen, has brought on a fresh bout of rejection, and pain. See, I have know for some time that my parents and sister love me out of family duty, but, for the most part don't like me, or see me as very capable, or strong. While I am sure I have played that roll at times, I am not the girl they think I am. All of my life, I have tried in vain, to find that unconditionalness I want so badly. Romanticly, always choosing the guy that keeps me at arms length. I have battled depression and anxiety for a long time because of this constant feeling of rejection. Lately, it feels as though it is breaking me though, like I am turning into that unstable, easily wounded little girl that my family has always seen me as. I lash out in rage at anyone who reminds me how "unimportant" I am. How unworthy of love, respect, and acceptance I am. Friends, my new husband, even my daughter and step daughter are feeling the after shocks. Afterward, I am ashamed. I hate the way I act, the way I drive people away when I need them the most. I hate myself for giving in, for losing control of my actions and emotions. I hear the voices from the past echo in my head
"you are over reacting"
"you are too sensitive"
"What is wrong with you?"
"it was a joke, knock it off"
"I never know how you are going to interpret what I say to you."
All of it implying I am the problem. I am the one to blame. I have begun to believe it now. I have begun to believe I am out of control, emotionally disturbed, unstable, and at fault. It has eaten away at me for 36 years, and now I am unstable, and I do hate myself. I blame myself, and I am convinced I am not deserving, or able to get the type of love and compassion I crave. I am in an endless cycle of hating myself for becoming the person they told me I should not be....I am weak. I scream and cry like a child throwing a temper tantrum, but in the end, no one comes to comfort me, and I feel less and less important or ok with each tear, and I have begun to fall apart.