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.

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.

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.

Just Getting Through

I am so bored right now that I started taking pictures at my desk. I feel too guilty reading the book for my literature class, so I just have it sitting there taunting me.

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I’m so bored right now. But I’m going to take it and run with. It’s better than being anxious and on edge.

I ended up going and staying for my sociology class. I’m glad I did. I got to talk to classmates and really tried to concentrate. I did find myself zoning out a few times, but I’m okay with that. It’s not material I don’t already know and regardless, I think I was engaged about 75% of the time. I’m pretty proud of myself for that. Plus, my test god pushed back a week. That really helps because I was worried I was going to have to pull double duty with studying for the test and writing my lit paper for next week. Now I just have to concentrate on my paper. 🙂

I got home last night and was really agitated and frustrated and angry. I didn’t want to do anything or even really watch anything. I was unpacking a box my parents had sent and just started throwing stuff out of the box. I was just so angry. And I broke down. I didn’t want to cry. I had been holding it together fairly well. I had managed to stop any tears from falling earlier, but I just couldn’t stop last night. I eventually managed to pull myself together. I don’t like losing control when I haven’t scheduled it.

I have a book to finish by tomorrow (which isn’t happening, but I’m going to try), a paper that’s due next Thursday, and a test the Tuesday after that. Then I’m looking at Thanksgiving and then finals. I can’t break down until after finals. I just have to keep going until then. Just putting one foot in front of the other and getting through each day.

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And this is the view from my desk. It’s always fun looking out at the cement wall of the building next door.

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…

Holding On

Oh my goodness.  It’s a little before 1:00pm here and I still haven’t finished my essay that’s due today at 6:00pm.  This is the same essay that was due last week.  I hadn’t finished it and told my instructor what had happened.  She gave me an extension until this week to get it done.  I’m really appreciative because she could have just said, “too bad,” and lowered my grade.  But I’m still struggling with getting it finished.  I have 2.5 pages out of 5 done.  And it’s really bad writing.  I’m so not happy with it.  And I hate to say it, but at this point, I just don’t care.  I just want the damn thing done.

I just want to be able to go home and take a nap.  Right now.  Please.

Or at least just lie in bed with my puppy.

I just need the weekend to come.

I felt like I have a firm grasp on the box labeled “emotions.”  But now I feel like I’m starting to lose it.  I’ll be fine one minute, then about ready to burst into tears the next.  I’d really rather not come into work each day.  Actually, I’d really rather not wake up so early each morning.

She Said, He Does

She said, “I love you.”

He just nodded silently.

She said, “We should talk.”

He just rolled his eyes and sighed.

I ask what’s wrong.

Lies fall out of his mouth without a moment’s hesitation.

I get frustrated and angry.

He says something hurtful.

I say, “This isn’t right,” and start to cry.

Then he wants to talk.

And all I want to do is shut down.