Anne Aster
New Here
I haven't ever taken the time to write any of this down before. In fact I like living in a made up world where a lot of it never happened. I think that sometimes. I think I'm crazy. I just broke the heart of the man I love. I feel like a complete monster. He supported me, and did everything to show how deep his love for me was. I pushed him away over and over. I'm shaking. Umm, I think I should get it out there.
I have tried several times to seek therapy. When I moved back to California I was put in contact with the Star program. I was informed that since I am not considering suicide that the state's budget limits which people could see psychiatrists. There's a shortage, so only the people that really need one get it. I went to a drug rehabilitation clinic, where they have NA meetings and such. I mentioned a few things, they said I was a survivor, and since I don't have any current drug problems anymore, they really don't have services for me. I got an open invitation to the meetings. I went to one. It really didn’t do anything but make me uncomfortable.
This is going to be long, so I understand if people shy away. I was born in California. Two parents that loved me but were completely wrong for each other. Drugs. Abuse. My Dad had a serious drug problem. When I was a little girl one of my first memories is of him frothing on the bathroom floor (he had taken a god awful amount of drugs). I remember a lot of screaming. I feel disassociated from a lot of it, but it was my life. My Dad kidnapped me (or tried saving me from my mother, depending on who says the story). It led to me being taken to a house for a few weeks where my Mom says a gang of men forcibly raped her by knifepoint. My Dad said they were her dealers. They separated, got back together. They say it was for me. My Father holds resentment. My Father also was barred from the state of California after child molestation charges were addressed. I don’t really remember it. I don’t know. He and his Dad I guess. That’s what I’ve been told. But I don’t know.
We moved around a lot when I was young. I stayed with my Grandma, a man my mother lived with while she was pregnant with me. The first pictures of me are with him. Strange. My mom was in the hospital for weeks. I was badly injured. I am really confused. I used to say that the hospital made a mistake and had interns work on my mother. She was a small woman and I was over 9 pounds. My mom 5’3’’, my dad 6’5’’. They were beautiful opposites. Looking at it now, I guess maybe it was my mom’s drug addiction that made the birth so hard? I have been told so many f*cking things. They gave me that drug for withdrawals twice at birth. I don’t know.
After this and that, a lot of neglect. The cops would find me at the park alone early in the morning. My uncle tells me he used to come over at 4 in the afternoon, my mom still asleep. My dad told me I used to try and boil bacon when I was home alone. My mom even laughs that she used to have to put a mattress down on the floor when I was an infant because I would get up at the crack of dawn and fling myself over the railing to go outside and play. I was told I would never walk. Cerebral palsy, brain damage, bad feet, leg braces, etc. My Dad says I didn’t need any of it. It was my mom’s crazy coming out. Weird coming from a man I didn’t have any contact with for over 15 years. That’s later though. So was her being diagnosed with Munchhausen’s.
In grade school, the early years, I excelled. I loved school. I loved using my imagination and creating. I was social, and found it easy to leave the house every day and make my own world. My Mom got pregnant when I was 9. I was so happy to have a baby sister. I don’t quite know how to tell everything. See. At the time I thought she had the same dad as I did. That I guess comes later too.
When she was still an infant, we went around the world. How? I still don’t understand. We never had a lot of money. My dad admits now that he worked to get an 8 ball of crack or meth or whatever was around, do it, and then work to get rent, and another 8 ball. He bought me T-shirts and trinkets to win my affection I guess, but we were by no means wealthy or privileged. Cardboard boxes for a dining table. My mom made them nice using a sheet though.
My Dad had a way with words. He still does when I look at him now. Anyways, ok. He fell into talks with this group called the rose garden. A cult in my opinion, but I don’t know. One time they had a prayer circle, went around the room, and I swear, they made me sit there with them, and I think it was the first time I felt the devil. I don’t even believe in god, but I have felt evil. The living situation was whacked. My dad was f*cking two people, a man and woman who were a couple. Plus the man had a daughter with another woman there, and one of the mom’s was a witch. Like honestly, everything I am saying is true but I feel like a total liar. This just gets weirder. The woman my dad was “friends” with had the same name as my mother. She had a fortune because her father had invested in virtual reality. She bought my dad a new mustang. A Porsche. Over 100,000 cash. And a trip around the world, literally.
Everything at the time was different, I was 10. I didn’t see everything going on. Not all of it, but my dad admits he stopped seeing me because I knew he did drugs. I don’t even remember. I guess when he got angry I would tell him to smoke a special cigarette. Marijuana is no big deal in my opinion though. I didn’t do a single drug until I was 21. Cocaine was the first. Two 88’s. I still smoke pot. It helps. A little. So we went around the world. I said goodbye to classmates, thought we would be gone for over 8 months. It got cut short. My dad got drunk in Thailand and gave away a trinket I had bought for him earlier that day with my own money. I got really sick in Singapore. He got drunk in India, taped my face with duct tape, threw me in the corner, and as I was crying he took photos. He said at the time that he was going to send them to my classmates if I didn’t shut up. I have learned to be quiet. I also lash out. And hurt those I love.
So much of my life is a haze. I know these things, and so many more happened to me, but I cant, I don’t know. I can’t explain it.
So we got back from around the world. That night my cat got run over, and my dad left. He came around a couple times, but he was gone. I was 10. I saw him again when I was 26. He called once; to make sure I was getting good grades. I don’t remember a lot of it.
This guy moved in. piece of work. I could go on for hours about all of the things he did to my family. He abused me more than I care to admit. My mom went to school full time and waitressed. I dropped out to home school my 7th grade year. My mom says it was cause I was a handful. I don’t remember why. I just remember sitting at home, no one there but me, books I didn’t understand, a toddler who needed everything, and some asshole sleeping on the couch. He would get up in the middle of the night and ran sack the fridge. Tell my mom it was me. He stole her wedding and other rings, said it was me. My mom honestly believed that I stole her jewelry and took it to school so that my friends would like me. He freebased in our garage. He picked me up from school on occasion, and would whistle and flirt with my friends. Tell me how fat I was. I’m a cow still. Well. I know, I think, I may not be, but I am heavy. Not huge, but I couldn’t be a gymnast =) My mom, sister, and he all love working out. Born gymnasts. It makes sense now. This man is her father.
I found that out about a year ago. I met my dad about a year ago. I saw my sister for the first time in three years about a year ago. I saw my mom again a year ago. I came to California and tried to reunite with my extended family April 2009. The other things started to come.
This guy beat her. I watched the first time. I came home from school, and I tried to stop it. He hit me, we fought. I blacked out. When I came to he was outside coughing up blood. I guess I had kicked him hard. My mom called the police. Then she yelled at me. Hated me. It would all be better if I just left. If I would go away. I’m so tired of having to go away.
I struggled.
Years went by. More and more shit piled up. My senior year a week before classes started my mother got the idea to move to Idaho. I said good-bye to no one. That was harder than I give myself credit for I think. We ended up in Washington. We moved to get away from him for good. He drove the truck up to Washington. We really got away.
I tried going to school. I couldn’t. I failed. I met the wrong crowd. This girl who had been a stripper and was married to a truck driver that used to be a client lived near by. I moved in with them. Good idea! A few months prior to that, actually right when we moved I got some money. Because of that birth injury, I got over 100,000. I don’t want to go into details, because it really hurts. My mom figured out how to get me to put it in her account. For my best interest. So I wouldn’t spend it all frivolously. Be it her addiction, or his. It was gone within a year. I was not in school. Now I couldn’t afford it even if I tried. She stayed in her room for two years. Wine bottles, pills, and cocaine.
Anyways, during this time, that girl, the stripper, introduced me to this navy guy. He got drunk that night, I though he passed out in his car. I checked. He took my virginity. I tried fighting back. I didn’t win. He was much bigger than me. My mom told me I wanted it.
I moved in with a lot of people. I stayed on couches, I met a guy. We dated for three years. We weren’t right for each other. Maybe. I don’t know. Yeah. We weren’t. but I got with him because I needed to get away. It was good for the most part. Seeing my mom was hard. She started going crazy. My sister was too young still. Only 9 or 10. She saw too much. This guy, my sister’s father, kicked them out, yelled at them, and raped my mother. Yeah. He drugged her more than once. He broke her ribs. And yet a part of me f*cking hates her. Oh my god, I am a bad person.
This guy, my sister’s father, groomed her. That’s what they call it when sexual predators win the affection of little girls they want to advance on. His own daughter. He looked at his daughter sexually, just like my father allegedly did. They were both born on April 3rd.
Three years went by, I met a girl. She introduced me to this great guy. He was her dealer. Cocaine. Guess what? The dealer’s girlfriend worked at a gym with my sister’s father. And this dealer dealt to my mom. I eventually stood in a shower crying when I saw her there buying. My sister in the car. The first time I gave in to drugs, holy shit. I was hooked. I moved to Texas a few months later, to get closer to her family. I was doing really well in work. I was in Arkansas competing in a national competition three days before I was to move to Texas. The truck was waiting packed. I won. My team did. I’m proud of them. At the amusement park celebrating I got a call. My sister was in child protective custody. This is where it went south. I handled things up until then. I got home, went to talk to them. That was a nightmare. They asked if she could stay with me temperamentally. I passed the psych talk, and would have happily given up coke, but I no longer had an apartment. Just a packed truck. They never even let me talk to her again. Her foster parents told me no. why? I had never done anything to her. I loved her like she was mine. I wanted so badly to protect me from them.
I had already lost touch with the rest of my family. My mother twisted my world. My family hated me, I thought. I stayed away. In Texas getting f*cked up. I did things that I regret. I followed the path I tried so hard to stay away from. Luckily I came to my sense before I got pregnant or shot.
When I moved back to California it was after living in my car for months. Circumstances led me to a bad place. A lot of it was out of my control, and people I trusted did horrible things to me. I have now been raped three times. I didn’t know a different world. For that part, for me continuing to seek the same torture, that is my responsibility.
I could keep going. The list of events literally does not end. My life has been shit. I moved to California after an estranged grandmother called me and said come stay with me. Find yourself. That’s what I am trying to do. Four days after moving here I was in a record store. I love pink Floyd, and I was broke but I wanted to look. I met this guy. I was unlike any I had ever been attracted to before. Have you ever met anyone and felt something? This was this first time I had. And what I felt was deep.
He had just ended a relationship, so it was a few weeks before we talked a lot. The talks were great though. Unlike anyone else I had been with or known before it wasn’t about me trying to figure out what to stay to show that I was compatible. It wasn’t about me trying to morph myself into something he would desire. It was me just sitting there at a beach drawing pictures in the sand and talking to a friend. It was a glimpse of something I have never before seen. The first year. Oh my god. I can’t remember joy like that in my life. We were so close, and when I told him about my past he listened. He told me he would never do that, he loved me, and wanted me to be happy. I was so happy with him. A year into the relationship my mother got custody back of my sister and moved a few blocks away from me and my grandma. A month after that my cousin found me on face book and introduced me to my dad. I umm. I have also just been able to get accepted to school. Before this, my mother because of her delusions that people wanted to put my sister in the Russian prostitution ring wouldn’t give me her information for fafsa. I wasn’t 25 yet, and couldn’t afford it without assistance. One year my mom offered to fill it out for me, if I gave her all of my tax info. She had already stolen from me once. I declined her offer. So I waited. I turned 25. I enrolled. I handled my mother and sister with a grace that I can say, cool, I think I handled it well. I honestly do everything I can to support them both. My mom needs time to heal and lose her guilt. My sister, she needs time to be child before she turns 18 next year. My dad is so far gone that all I can do is be grateful to see him again. And finally the other man is out of our lives. He still work’s at a children’s gym.
About a year ago I started hurting myself. The good happy feelings turned into utter despair. I hate myself. I bite myself until I bleed. I box my ears until I can’t hear. I lash out for no reasons at the one I love. At the man that I met at the record store. I can’t really say anything else right now, my mind hurts.
I ended our engagement for the 7th time. There are tiny things about him that bug me, but even if I magnify them 10 times, I still want to stand next to him. His voice soothes me. His touch warms me. He friendship is amazing. And the stories we can create when we’re together. Were both writers. Well he is actually a writer trying to make it in Hollywood now that he is about to graduate. I just play around. But it’s fun.
I don’t know if I can explain the connection I feel with this man. I know I have walls built, but one look at his smile, his eyes so bright with wonder, I wanted nothing else. I don’t’ understand why I’ve done this. I never cheated on him, my mind wandered once these last couple months, but I could never do that to him. I don’t have any real desire for another.
I think I need help. I think I might have this thing called PTSD. I have been informally diagnosed a few times, but umm. Maybe not. I haven’t been to war, so I may just be trying to give excuses for my behavior? I don’t know.
He is the kind of person I want to be. I am a perfectionists though, and I nit pick. Myself, him, us. He just stood there and took it for two years. He has so much strength. I never did get counseling. I emerged myself in work and school, but nothing can change this pit inside myself. I have only felt the numbness take over more and more. Now though. The numb feeling I had grown accustomed to had been replaced with the gut-wrenching fear that I have lost the one good thing I ever had. I didn’t cheat on him. I haven’t touched drugs in this relationship. We don’t drink. He tries to teach me how to communicate my feelings more. It’s really strange. I thought crying was weakness. I can’t be weak. I don’t want to get hurt. I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t know.
I want him to be happy, be it if that is with another or me. I hope that it is with me. He finally stood up for himself and said no more. We aren’t talking right now. He needs time. I know why. Anything that has ever come up in our relationship, any flaw or icky habit, no matter how small it was, led to us breaking up. Led to me saying I don’t know anymore. I haven’t known for a long time. Ever perhaps. It’s not him that I want away from. It’s me. It’s this thing inside that I don’t know how to make go away.
I am coming here as an attempt to hear some things maybe I haven’t come up with on my own. I am intelligent, perhaps (according to my father) too much for my own good. Not intelligent enough to fix this though. I need help. Since I can’t see a doctor, any advice would be welcomed and appreciated.
Do you any of you ever feel like you are out of control of your own actions? Do you say things to hurt someone without understanding why you said it? Do you do things that lead to your own self demise? To the demise of everything you know you need?
I need to be healthy. I want be with him. I know that I may have pushed him to far, and that is something I have to live with. Regardless though, I need to feel joy again.
Thank you for reading this. I hope I posted it correctly.
I have tried several times to seek therapy. When I moved back to California I was put in contact with the Star program. I was informed that since I am not considering suicide that the state's budget limits which people could see psychiatrists. There's a shortage, so only the people that really need one get it. I went to a drug rehabilitation clinic, where they have NA meetings and such. I mentioned a few things, they said I was a survivor, and since I don't have any current drug problems anymore, they really don't have services for me. I got an open invitation to the meetings. I went to one. It really didn’t do anything but make me uncomfortable.
This is going to be long, so I understand if people shy away. I was born in California. Two parents that loved me but were completely wrong for each other. Drugs. Abuse. My Dad had a serious drug problem. When I was a little girl one of my first memories is of him frothing on the bathroom floor (he had taken a god awful amount of drugs). I remember a lot of screaming. I feel disassociated from a lot of it, but it was my life. My Dad kidnapped me (or tried saving me from my mother, depending on who says the story). It led to me being taken to a house for a few weeks where my Mom says a gang of men forcibly raped her by knifepoint. My Dad said they were her dealers. They separated, got back together. They say it was for me. My Father holds resentment. My Father also was barred from the state of California after child molestation charges were addressed. I don’t really remember it. I don’t know. He and his Dad I guess. That’s what I’ve been told. But I don’t know.
We moved around a lot when I was young. I stayed with my Grandma, a man my mother lived with while she was pregnant with me. The first pictures of me are with him. Strange. My mom was in the hospital for weeks. I was badly injured. I am really confused. I used to say that the hospital made a mistake and had interns work on my mother. She was a small woman and I was over 9 pounds. My mom 5’3’’, my dad 6’5’’. They were beautiful opposites. Looking at it now, I guess maybe it was my mom’s drug addiction that made the birth so hard? I have been told so many f*cking things. They gave me that drug for withdrawals twice at birth. I don’t know.
After this and that, a lot of neglect. The cops would find me at the park alone early in the morning. My uncle tells me he used to come over at 4 in the afternoon, my mom still asleep. My dad told me I used to try and boil bacon when I was home alone. My mom even laughs that she used to have to put a mattress down on the floor when I was an infant because I would get up at the crack of dawn and fling myself over the railing to go outside and play. I was told I would never walk. Cerebral palsy, brain damage, bad feet, leg braces, etc. My Dad says I didn’t need any of it. It was my mom’s crazy coming out. Weird coming from a man I didn’t have any contact with for over 15 years. That’s later though. So was her being diagnosed with Munchhausen’s.
In grade school, the early years, I excelled. I loved school. I loved using my imagination and creating. I was social, and found it easy to leave the house every day and make my own world. My Mom got pregnant when I was 9. I was so happy to have a baby sister. I don’t quite know how to tell everything. See. At the time I thought she had the same dad as I did. That I guess comes later too.
When she was still an infant, we went around the world. How? I still don’t understand. We never had a lot of money. My dad admits now that he worked to get an 8 ball of crack or meth or whatever was around, do it, and then work to get rent, and another 8 ball. He bought me T-shirts and trinkets to win my affection I guess, but we were by no means wealthy or privileged. Cardboard boxes for a dining table. My mom made them nice using a sheet though.
My Dad had a way with words. He still does when I look at him now. Anyways, ok. He fell into talks with this group called the rose garden. A cult in my opinion, but I don’t know. One time they had a prayer circle, went around the room, and I swear, they made me sit there with them, and I think it was the first time I felt the devil. I don’t even believe in god, but I have felt evil. The living situation was whacked. My dad was f*cking two people, a man and woman who were a couple. Plus the man had a daughter with another woman there, and one of the mom’s was a witch. Like honestly, everything I am saying is true but I feel like a total liar. This just gets weirder. The woman my dad was “friends” with had the same name as my mother. She had a fortune because her father had invested in virtual reality. She bought my dad a new mustang. A Porsche. Over 100,000 cash. And a trip around the world, literally.
Everything at the time was different, I was 10. I didn’t see everything going on. Not all of it, but my dad admits he stopped seeing me because I knew he did drugs. I don’t even remember. I guess when he got angry I would tell him to smoke a special cigarette. Marijuana is no big deal in my opinion though. I didn’t do a single drug until I was 21. Cocaine was the first. Two 88’s. I still smoke pot. It helps. A little. So we went around the world. I said goodbye to classmates, thought we would be gone for over 8 months. It got cut short. My dad got drunk in Thailand and gave away a trinket I had bought for him earlier that day with my own money. I got really sick in Singapore. He got drunk in India, taped my face with duct tape, threw me in the corner, and as I was crying he took photos. He said at the time that he was going to send them to my classmates if I didn’t shut up. I have learned to be quiet. I also lash out. And hurt those I love.
So much of my life is a haze. I know these things, and so many more happened to me, but I cant, I don’t know. I can’t explain it.
So we got back from around the world. That night my cat got run over, and my dad left. He came around a couple times, but he was gone. I was 10. I saw him again when I was 26. He called once; to make sure I was getting good grades. I don’t remember a lot of it.
This guy moved in. piece of work. I could go on for hours about all of the things he did to my family. He abused me more than I care to admit. My mom went to school full time and waitressed. I dropped out to home school my 7th grade year. My mom says it was cause I was a handful. I don’t remember why. I just remember sitting at home, no one there but me, books I didn’t understand, a toddler who needed everything, and some asshole sleeping on the couch. He would get up in the middle of the night and ran sack the fridge. Tell my mom it was me. He stole her wedding and other rings, said it was me. My mom honestly believed that I stole her jewelry and took it to school so that my friends would like me. He freebased in our garage. He picked me up from school on occasion, and would whistle and flirt with my friends. Tell me how fat I was. I’m a cow still. Well. I know, I think, I may not be, but I am heavy. Not huge, but I couldn’t be a gymnast =) My mom, sister, and he all love working out. Born gymnasts. It makes sense now. This man is her father.
I found that out about a year ago. I met my dad about a year ago. I saw my sister for the first time in three years about a year ago. I saw my mom again a year ago. I came to California and tried to reunite with my extended family April 2009. The other things started to come.
This guy beat her. I watched the first time. I came home from school, and I tried to stop it. He hit me, we fought. I blacked out. When I came to he was outside coughing up blood. I guess I had kicked him hard. My mom called the police. Then she yelled at me. Hated me. It would all be better if I just left. If I would go away. I’m so tired of having to go away.
I struggled.
Years went by. More and more shit piled up. My senior year a week before classes started my mother got the idea to move to Idaho. I said good-bye to no one. That was harder than I give myself credit for I think. We ended up in Washington. We moved to get away from him for good. He drove the truck up to Washington. We really got away.
I tried going to school. I couldn’t. I failed. I met the wrong crowd. This girl who had been a stripper and was married to a truck driver that used to be a client lived near by. I moved in with them. Good idea! A few months prior to that, actually right when we moved I got some money. Because of that birth injury, I got over 100,000. I don’t want to go into details, because it really hurts. My mom figured out how to get me to put it in her account. For my best interest. So I wouldn’t spend it all frivolously. Be it her addiction, or his. It was gone within a year. I was not in school. Now I couldn’t afford it even if I tried. She stayed in her room for two years. Wine bottles, pills, and cocaine.
Anyways, during this time, that girl, the stripper, introduced me to this navy guy. He got drunk that night, I though he passed out in his car. I checked. He took my virginity. I tried fighting back. I didn’t win. He was much bigger than me. My mom told me I wanted it.
I moved in with a lot of people. I stayed on couches, I met a guy. We dated for three years. We weren’t right for each other. Maybe. I don’t know. Yeah. We weren’t. but I got with him because I needed to get away. It was good for the most part. Seeing my mom was hard. She started going crazy. My sister was too young still. Only 9 or 10. She saw too much. This guy, my sister’s father, kicked them out, yelled at them, and raped my mother. Yeah. He drugged her more than once. He broke her ribs. And yet a part of me f*cking hates her. Oh my god, I am a bad person.
This guy, my sister’s father, groomed her. That’s what they call it when sexual predators win the affection of little girls they want to advance on. His own daughter. He looked at his daughter sexually, just like my father allegedly did. They were both born on April 3rd.
Three years went by, I met a girl. She introduced me to this great guy. He was her dealer. Cocaine. Guess what? The dealer’s girlfriend worked at a gym with my sister’s father. And this dealer dealt to my mom. I eventually stood in a shower crying when I saw her there buying. My sister in the car. The first time I gave in to drugs, holy shit. I was hooked. I moved to Texas a few months later, to get closer to her family. I was doing really well in work. I was in Arkansas competing in a national competition three days before I was to move to Texas. The truck was waiting packed. I won. My team did. I’m proud of them. At the amusement park celebrating I got a call. My sister was in child protective custody. This is where it went south. I handled things up until then. I got home, went to talk to them. That was a nightmare. They asked if she could stay with me temperamentally. I passed the psych talk, and would have happily given up coke, but I no longer had an apartment. Just a packed truck. They never even let me talk to her again. Her foster parents told me no. why? I had never done anything to her. I loved her like she was mine. I wanted so badly to protect me from them.
I had already lost touch with the rest of my family. My mother twisted my world. My family hated me, I thought. I stayed away. In Texas getting f*cked up. I did things that I regret. I followed the path I tried so hard to stay away from. Luckily I came to my sense before I got pregnant or shot.
When I moved back to California it was after living in my car for months. Circumstances led me to a bad place. A lot of it was out of my control, and people I trusted did horrible things to me. I have now been raped three times. I didn’t know a different world. For that part, for me continuing to seek the same torture, that is my responsibility.
I could keep going. The list of events literally does not end. My life has been shit. I moved to California after an estranged grandmother called me and said come stay with me. Find yourself. That’s what I am trying to do. Four days after moving here I was in a record store. I love pink Floyd, and I was broke but I wanted to look. I met this guy. I was unlike any I had ever been attracted to before. Have you ever met anyone and felt something? This was this first time I had. And what I felt was deep.
He had just ended a relationship, so it was a few weeks before we talked a lot. The talks were great though. Unlike anyone else I had been with or known before it wasn’t about me trying to figure out what to stay to show that I was compatible. It wasn’t about me trying to morph myself into something he would desire. It was me just sitting there at a beach drawing pictures in the sand and talking to a friend. It was a glimpse of something I have never before seen. The first year. Oh my god. I can’t remember joy like that in my life. We were so close, and when I told him about my past he listened. He told me he would never do that, he loved me, and wanted me to be happy. I was so happy with him. A year into the relationship my mother got custody back of my sister and moved a few blocks away from me and my grandma. A month after that my cousin found me on face book and introduced me to my dad. I umm. I have also just been able to get accepted to school. Before this, my mother because of her delusions that people wanted to put my sister in the Russian prostitution ring wouldn’t give me her information for fafsa. I wasn’t 25 yet, and couldn’t afford it without assistance. One year my mom offered to fill it out for me, if I gave her all of my tax info. She had already stolen from me once. I declined her offer. So I waited. I turned 25. I enrolled. I handled my mother and sister with a grace that I can say, cool, I think I handled it well. I honestly do everything I can to support them both. My mom needs time to heal and lose her guilt. My sister, she needs time to be child before she turns 18 next year. My dad is so far gone that all I can do is be grateful to see him again. And finally the other man is out of our lives. He still work’s at a children’s gym.
About a year ago I started hurting myself. The good happy feelings turned into utter despair. I hate myself. I bite myself until I bleed. I box my ears until I can’t hear. I lash out for no reasons at the one I love. At the man that I met at the record store. I can’t really say anything else right now, my mind hurts.
I ended our engagement for the 7th time. There are tiny things about him that bug me, but even if I magnify them 10 times, I still want to stand next to him. His voice soothes me. His touch warms me. He friendship is amazing. And the stories we can create when we’re together. Were both writers. Well he is actually a writer trying to make it in Hollywood now that he is about to graduate. I just play around. But it’s fun.
I don’t know if I can explain the connection I feel with this man. I know I have walls built, but one look at his smile, his eyes so bright with wonder, I wanted nothing else. I don’t’ understand why I’ve done this. I never cheated on him, my mind wandered once these last couple months, but I could never do that to him. I don’t have any real desire for another.
I think I need help. I think I might have this thing called PTSD. I have been informally diagnosed a few times, but umm. Maybe not. I haven’t been to war, so I may just be trying to give excuses for my behavior? I don’t know.
He is the kind of person I want to be. I am a perfectionists though, and I nit pick. Myself, him, us. He just stood there and took it for two years. He has so much strength. I never did get counseling. I emerged myself in work and school, but nothing can change this pit inside myself. I have only felt the numbness take over more and more. Now though. The numb feeling I had grown accustomed to had been replaced with the gut-wrenching fear that I have lost the one good thing I ever had. I didn’t cheat on him. I haven’t touched drugs in this relationship. We don’t drink. He tries to teach me how to communicate my feelings more. It’s really strange. I thought crying was weakness. I can’t be weak. I don’t want to get hurt. I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t know.
I want him to be happy, be it if that is with another or me. I hope that it is with me. He finally stood up for himself and said no more. We aren’t talking right now. He needs time. I know why. Anything that has ever come up in our relationship, any flaw or icky habit, no matter how small it was, led to us breaking up. Led to me saying I don’t know anymore. I haven’t known for a long time. Ever perhaps. It’s not him that I want away from. It’s me. It’s this thing inside that I don’t know how to make go away.
I am coming here as an attempt to hear some things maybe I haven’t come up with on my own. I am intelligent, perhaps (according to my father) too much for my own good. Not intelligent enough to fix this though. I need help. Since I can’t see a doctor, any advice would be welcomed and appreciated.
Do you any of you ever feel like you are out of control of your own actions? Do you say things to hurt someone without understanding why you said it? Do you do things that lead to your own self demise? To the demise of everything you know you need?
I need to be healthy. I want be with him. I know that I may have pushed him to far, and that is something I have to live with. Regardless though, I need to feel joy again.
Thank you for reading this. I hope I posted it correctly.
