My son is sitting ten feet away from me, playing a video game. My ribs have about fifteen minutes left in the oven. I know that if I begin to type, begin to tell my story... I will cry.
The more I read, the more I realize that I am screwed. Screwed up. Royally.
From emotional and physical neglect as a child by alcoholic parents, to semi-sexual abuse throughout my life... to abusive relationships, to a murdered sister, to a dying mother, to a bitter, horrifying custody battle, to being stalked relentlessly for over five years and counting............
I am screwed up.
I simply do not know if I can be fixed and am terrified to acknowledge this much damage. It is so, so much easier to deny and pretend and fall apart only later, in the privacy of one's home. Problem is, the falling apart is occurring far too frequently these days and I have begun to lose any interest in anything at all, save self-medication and dreamless, drugged sleep. I do not know who I am, anymore. I no longer recognize me.
Ending now so I do not cry. My kids have seen entirely too much of a crying mother. It is cruel.
The more I read, the more I realize that I am screwed. Screwed up. Royally.
From emotional and physical neglect as a child by alcoholic parents, to semi-sexual abuse throughout my life... to abusive relationships, to a murdered sister, to a dying mother, to a bitter, horrifying custody battle, to being stalked relentlessly for over five years and counting............
I am screwed up.
I simply do not know if I can be fixed and am terrified to acknowledge this much damage. It is so, so much easier to deny and pretend and fall apart only later, in the privacy of one's home. Problem is, the falling apart is occurring far too frequently these days and I have begun to lose any interest in anything at all, save self-medication and dreamless, drugged sleep. I do not know who I am, anymore. I no longer recognize me.
Ending now so I do not cry. My kids have seen entirely too much of a crying mother. It is cruel.
