Each night, since about a year ago, I dream of you because there is something about you that comforts my wound-up mind. Your personality, your carefree attitude, and your laugh eases my soul and temporarily makes me forget that I’m stressed. Indirectly you’re like the heroine I’ve been too afraid of trying; suppose I got the dose anyway, huh? Last night, however, was the first night when I tried to think of you it pained me. A sharp surge panged in my heart causing it to wound my love and affection I’ve held back just for you for so long–it’s practically gone now. As I allow the pain to take me over for the first time I realised this is the feeling I’ve been trying to surpress for all of these years. Hurt, pain, lonesomeness–felt all of those for what seemed to feel like hours. I couldn’t sleep, my eyes would continually keep popping open as tears tried to run down my face. I miss the feeling of something warm next to me.
During my episode I was trying to recollect what exactly caused me to fall into such a deep pit of depression, and then it’s like they all hit me at once. My mother is ill, really really ill and of course she’s doing everything in the world except helping herself as she rots within the shallow walls of her own depression, I have neglect issues that’s surfaced, and I’m frustrated. The last one is solvable…but the other two are what worry me.
All of my life my mother only wanted to let people see the “good” of her, and I get that horrible habit from her. She was diagnosed with emphysema some years ago due to smoking, she’s been smoking since she was fourteen. Even when she was pregnant with my brothers and sisters and I she smoked and drank those coca-cola’s or dark drinks so it’s inevitable that her health would fail. Maybe she planned this? Maybe she planned to kill herself slowly to ease the struggles of her depression and leave us to clean up her mess? She’s done it before. Burdens….anyway. Her illness has only worsened since she’s been diagnosed, and all she does is dwell on depressing issues, sit around and smoke. She even told me she’s given up on being a mother, but in reality she’s just given up on living. Period.
Yesterday during church there was a nice man with his three daughters sitting in the pew below me, they were all so pretty and I had that gut feeling they would grow up to be stunning women. Throughout the service I kept watching watching the family. The dad held onto his two smaller daughters and made them laugh, showed them affection and made the girls happy. You could see their little faces light up every time he would kiss them or hug them. As for his other daughter, she looked maybe thirteen or so, she kind of sat off to herself in her own world, but every now and then he would rub her back or show her that he cared. Her face would light up too but she tried to surpress the feeling of being loved. Not sure why, but you know how teenagers are–weirdos. I have to admit that I was really jealous and hurt seeing this solely because I didn’t and don’t have that close connection with any kind of male in my life. In fact I was treated the complete opposite of those children, my dad would push away from me when I would give him affection, he would ignore me and treated me like a maid. Back then was really bad, especially for a kid who looked up to her father like I did. Over the years he’s realised his horrible behaviours and has tried to form a bond, sort of, with me but you can just tell that he knows we won’t ever be as close and he’s fucked up.
I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt comfortable around a male because I psychologically associate every guy to treat me like how my father did when I was a kid, even knowing that that probably wouldn’t happen. That’s why I hung on to your comfort and your love, your love and affection doesn’t threaten my mind and there aren’t any red flags that go off in my head. Until last night whenever I tried to think of you and I got hurt. So now I’m distant from you as well, even though it’s completely my fault for thinking as I do. I’m so eager to fall into the arms of someone caring and sweet, but it’s getting to that point that’s hard. I’m really stupid when it comes to love, no matter who or what it’s with, I just want to be wanted and needed and loved; being taken for granted isn’t my thing.
Love won’t kill anxiety, love doesn’t cure the moods I get into. Love is a delusion while the pain I face is real. It’s all I’m used to.