reflect and deflect
Wow, all those years I missed in therapy didn’t teach me what I didn’t know about myself. And what I do know is I am an emotionally needy person who has made a lot of poor decisions in my search for that elusive four letter word in all of its forms.
Yup, guys, we are talking about love.
LOVE.
Man all of my decisions I have made pretty much ever in my life was to secure the favor, attention or love of another person. Every move I have made, almost every job I have taken, every breath I have taken has been in search for this elusive thing that lots of people seem to have no trouble achieving. Someone to give a shit about me. And let’s be honest, more accurately, someone to not throw me away.
I suppose the theme was set from the moment I was born, tossed into foster care, broken-eyed (no really they had scabs) but not too broken my parents wouldn’t adopt me. They ended up having two of their own and I was sandwiched in the middle and middle children, especially those born from different stock, different physiology, man it is hard already and then you have to wonder if you really should have been in that home at all. And sometimes people are less squishy as people maybe, and maybe I needed a different kind of love. You know, the I will not call you terrible things, I will not leave you to suffer, I will support you and help you.
Fuck, just the I accept you kind was enough.
But it was years and years and that is ALL I focused on–not the creating parts of me, but the bleeding part of me, just so fucking hurt and so strangled by my own worthlessness, my own faults. The years of constantly apologizing for everything I did, the strings I would tie to establish meaning in relationships and with people who would not stick around. The sheer recklessness I lived my own life. Sure I had some outside factors that made feeling good enough to love pretty hard, what with the exploding artery disease. But even with all of that–it’s not that I didn’t feel good enough to love. Of course I am good enough to love. I am a human being. I do still try to help everyone I can, even knowing this. So of course I deserve to be known and loved.
It’s just that very few ever will is the conclusion there. And I think that is true of most of us anymore. At this point I am kind of closed off to most everyone, let’s be honest. My goal is to die and have no reason for a funeral–she didn’t have enough friends. People didn’t know her well wouldn’t bug me because it’s true. In fact, having to plan or know Don would be stuck with something afterwards makes me feel badly so I hope we both go at the same time or maybe in some mass event I could go so I would just be one of many and get lost in the mix. So many people who were close to me are no longer close. It is clear I don’t need any accolades to not feel suicidal or feel empowered.
It just depends on the day, I suppose.
