Extended Family Woes

I’m not very close with my mother’s side of the family. They’ve never really been open towards me. And I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that my dad and I are Hispanic. But they would never admit to that.

I kinda had this all figured out by the time I was 11, so I’ve had plenty of time to be angry, hurt, and resentful of it. I’ve also managed to work through these feelings and thoughts in therapy. I understand this has nothing to do with me. They were brought up differently and have different values and moral. I’m not faulting them that at all.

My mother has denied this for years. Years, I tell you. Up until about 4 months ago when she finally began to see things with her own two eyes. And it hurt her. A lot. Her family also started treating her poorly. And I think that was the catalyst for her. And she’s hurt. The other day my dad found her crying over the way her sisters have been treating her and the fact that I wasn’t invited to a cousin’s baby shower.

When my mom told me she got an invitation, and I hadn’t, I knew I had been left out. But I hadn’t been expecting to get invited in the first place. And I was okay with that. I spent years being okay with not being included in events on her side of the family. This was nothing new. I didn’t even think about it. It was barely a blip on my radar.

Then the phone call came last night. A different cousin left a long winded and very unnecessary voice mail.

Hi D! This cousin J. I was just calling because I wanted to let you know I had your wrong address. And I didn’t realize. I didn’t want you to think you weren’t invited. I don’t have any extra invitations so this is your formal invite. It’s going to be in June, in a different state. Hope you can make it. RSVP. Call me back and let me know. Bye.

This message is what gets me angry. It’s like carving out a wound on my arm when there was nothing there in the first place. She didn’t have to call. It’s not like anyone actually wants me there. I’m just really angry she made this call. Why? To make herself feel like a good person? I wish just would have left well enough alone. Then I wouldn’t be feeling like this.

I so want to tell the whole lot of them what I really think of them. But to spare my mother any more pain and not sink to their level and not waste my time and energy, I won’t. But I did manage to rearrange by Facebook privacy settings to longer include them. They don’t need to know what goes on in my life. I am happy with the extended family (irl and online) that I have created.

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And I’m Still Hurting

I want him out of my head. I shouldn’t be thinking about him. I don’t want to see his face when I close my eyes.  I don’t want to want to feel his touch. I don’t want the good memories to make me smile and miss him even more than I already so. My lungs feel tight and my breaths are shallow. It just hurts.
I’m tired of feeling. I don’t want to hurt anymore. I can’t handle anymore pain. I just want to be numb.
Numb.
n u m b.
Strategically planning when I can be alone and what I want to have. There will be NO interruptions. I have the time to myself.
To stop the emotions from coming up, I block their way with chips and cake and rice and ice cream. I need these feeling stay down and out of the way. I can’t function when I feel like that.
I stop in the midst of shoveling food in my mouth and look and what I’ve done. Full of embarrassment and shame, I hang my head and try to think of a way out.
You said you’d never do this again. Now look at yourself. How can you even look at yourself. You’re so disgusting and vile. How can anyone stand to be around you? Well the damage has been done, but let’s make sure you really feel it.
Back to the kitchen I go to get the food that hurts. One handful on the way out. Two handfuls as I sit down. I can’t cram the food in fast enough.  But when I’ve deemed it’s been enough, I walk to the bathroom.
I dread the bathroom.
I love the bathroom.
The ritual starts.
Get everything out.  Geteverythingout.  GETEVERYTHINGOUTNOW!  It hurts because you’re horrible.  If you weren’t horrible, you wouldn’t be doing this to yourself…  your husband would have stayed…  you would have control.  Control.  Get everything out and never do this again.  You need to control yourself.
My heart has been cut up into a million pieces.
I try to put it back together, but can’t see through my tears.

Being Quiet

I made this New Year’s resolution to talk more this year and not keep things so bottled up.  And I’m failing miserably with it.  I’ve been slowly telling certain people certain things, but not one of my friends has the whole story on what’s been going on.

My divorce is final.  I got the official papers a few weeks ago.  Besides my immediate family, only 4 friends know.  I know my friends love and support me.  And they would never judge me.  But in the same breath I can say that I’m embarrassed and slightly ashamed that something I thought was going to last, didn’t.  That the relationship was so hurtful, but I couldn’t see that until I got some distance from it.  That I still have moments where I find myself missing him and wanting to see him again.

I started therapy again.  It’s bringing up a lot of feelings that I’m not comfortable with.  And I’ve been dealing with them by using some not healthy behaviors.  I get in cycles of bingeing and restricting.  It’s the only thing that really makes me feel better.  Or better said, it’s the only thing that helps me not to feel; to be numb.  And I’d rather be numb.  Numb is always better.  Then I can’t hurt.  I won’t feel the pain.  I won’t need something else to distract me. I can just be and focus on what I need to do.

Not Doing Enough

I slept most of the day away, the weekend in fact.  And I’m still tired.

I really should have been reading.  I need to finish this book for my literature class.  And write a paper for Thursday.

I’m trying really hard not to feel guilty about sleeping.  My body obviously needed it, otherwise I wouldn’t have slept at all or for that long.  It’s just really hard not to feel guilty when I know I’m capable of doing so much more.

Yes, I work and go to school.  But it’s only two classes.  I should be able to handle this.  There are some people who work and take three or four classes.  Now, that’s stressful. I don’t even have a high stress job.

I should have been cleaning my apartment because my mom is coming to visit next weekend.  I’m sure she’ll find something to complain about the state of my apartment.  It’s just hard when I feel like I’m doing the best I can, but I know I can do better.  And this will just be reinforced by my mother.

I want to do more.  I need to do more.  Then I won’t be stuck in my head so much.

I need that escape.

Enough

The crying needs to stop. NOW. I don’t like being all teary eyed all day long. I don’t like it when I’m anxious and jittery that I can’t think about anything other than escaping. I don’t like that I haven’t been able to finish a meal without crying the past couple of days. I don’t like it that I’m slacking on my responsibilities but can’t find the energy to get them done properly (so why do them at all?)

I’m usually much better at handling my emotions. I’m really good at compartmentalizing everything. At least I used to be. Now, it’s like everything is bubbling and I can’t keep the lid down. I have no idea how I used to do it.

I tried writing in my journal over the weekend to help me process some of this stuff, but I got so incredibly angry that I started shaking and had to stop.

I don’t want anyone to think I can’t handle this because I can. But I’m sick and tired of people telling me that this is the best thing to happen and that I will be okay. Well, no shit. I will be okay because I have no other choice than to be okay. And it’s not that I want to talk about myself every single second of every single day, but it would be nice if someone other than my parents, 1 friend, and 1 acquaintance asked how I was doing. I just feel so alone. And sad. And angry.

I am having a hard time reaching out. I always have. I just feel like since everyone knows I’m normally strong and resilient, then I must be okay now. But it’s not true. I feel like I’m crumbling. (I can’t even afford therapy right now. I’m a mess.) All I want to do is hide away in bed.

This pity party needs to stop. I just need to pull myself up with my boot straps and dry my tears. I can be strong like everyone thinks I am. I can handle it.

No. Really. I can.

I just don’t want to.

What Would Have Been

Tomorrow would have been my anniversary.

A year ago, we were in a church, exchanging our vows and promising to be together until “death do us part.”  And he left.  Without a word.

I wanted to be married to him.  I thought we were equal.  I thought we were partners.

He was the love of my life.  I always thought of him in dreaming up future plans.  Even when I knew it was over, I thought of ways that it would be easiest on him.  I knew we would both be hurt, but I was trying to figure out the less hurtful way of ending it.

He never thought of me at the same level.  He was never open with me, but he forced me to tell him everything.  He made me financially responsible for the household.  It was fine when he was unemployed, but didn’t want to contribute even after he got a job and couldn’t understand why I needed money.  He went out all the time after work and got drunk, and I just went to class then home.  He was adamant about having a biological child and would only consider adoption as a last resort.  Not a good thing to say to someone who is adopted.

I had him first in my heart.

He took a sledgehammer and broke it into pieces.

And now I just want to hide… disappear…