Wednesday, September 19, 2012


Lately my therapist has been bringing up the subject of me isolating a lot more than she usually does. In the 16 years that I have been talking to someone about my family issues, I have never felt the urge to flee the way I do now. I just don't want to talk about it. The suggestions I am given about how to "solve this problem" are glib and useless to me. I honestly want to be alone most days. I sometimes think that it would be for the best. I am not happy with the amount of short change I have been dealt in my life, but I do not know how to change that short of keeping to myself.

Last night I had a hard evening with Steven. I am not proud of myself when I lose patience, but it's not like there's anyone around who is supportive. Steven signs and communicates at school and at daycare when he goes. But with me, he refuses to do anything. I spend most of my time with him pulling around dead weight. And when I'm already not feeling well, it's even harder. The reactions I get are usually ones of amusement. Of course it is funny to's not happening to you. But when it does, I get to watch you drop F bombs on my son (oh, he's yours so it's okay....NOT), or spank him for peeling a sticker off the window. However, the exhaustion of his primary caretaker means little.

I cried last night. I cry many a night when no one is looking. Either that, or I pull back into myself and just think. I feel like the only life I have is the one inside me, but in honesty it's always been that way. I was not encouraged to show or have feelings when I was young. I got slapped in the face if I so much as looked like I didn't agree with the things that were being said to me. So I hide a lot. But last night I could not. My sweet son just started kissing me. Even after I lost my temper with him. I love my son. I wish that my critics could see that. I wonder if they were in my shoes, if they had been in my shoes in the beginning, how they would have acted. What choices would they have made?

Sometimes I feel like it's expected of me to remain invisible and subservient. I'm just here to be a buffer for other people's needs and selfishness. But now that I'm pushing back, there's a problem. I'm sorry, but I'm a human being. I have buried dream after dream, dealt with more than my share of abuse, manipulation and dishonesty. I am ready for that to change. And if it means that people are going to think that I'm mean, so be it. I think they're mean. I think they're selfish. I think they're dishonest. I think I'm tired of putting up with their mess.

I hope that one day before I die, that I will have a few moments of the life I wanted for myself, instead of a life that is the product of other people's manipulation of me.

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