Week 40: Enough

October 6, 2010 at 7:16 (Uncategorized)

I looked in the mirror last night and saw an angry, ugly, old woman staring back at me.

I need a break.

I’ve been running a fever now for two months. I work all the time and worry about it when I’m not working. My meals consist of candy, chocolate, chips and coffee. I rarely sleep and barely solidly. My heart’s been going like crazy. I’ve gained six pounds in two months. I don’t exercise anymore. I don’t drink enough water. I am under stress from family crap and wedding crap and money crap. I’m coughing and having trouble breathing. I’m dizzy. I’m tired. I feel pretty lousy actually.

I need control over something. Good control. Useful control. I’m cutting bad people out of my life and trying to release their control of me. Unfortunately, most of these  people are my family. It’s a terrible thing to let go of: Wanting bad people to not be so bad for me. Wanting them to get better. Needing them to so I can be happy. So I can have them in my life so that I can pretend that I have a useful , normal family. But I can’t change them and I can’t change them by willing them to change. I try, but all I end up changing is my own personality to make them happy. It’s how I’ve survived my whole life. Maybe that’s denial. Being afraid to be true to myself. Being afraid to admit that the people who want to control me are bad in their intentions, not good. That they are selfish and make me feel incompetent to make themselves feel better. That I am not truly worthless, but made to feel that way so they have something THEY can control. Errrr, this is more than I want to say in a blog. I guess the reality is I still am the one who has to change and who can change and who has control over my own happiness by changing. And these people who don’t give a damn about me — I don’t need to give such a damn about them. They have certainly made me feel small enough that I seem to think I need to accept being treated this way, but that’s not true, is it? I don’t get a thing out of relationships like that but the terrible symptoms I’ve described above. Why am I accepting this, then? Clearly because I still need so badly to feel loved by the people who matter most in our early lives: Our family.

Way too heavy for a blog. I’m saving the rest for the novel I’ll one day write.


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