i am able to say outloud:
1 - that i am dreadfully unhappy with my personal life
2 - that i lead two lives: the happy professional, and the miserable hermit
3 - that i am disappointed that my brother doesn't need me anymore
4 - that i am still unable to shut my mother's influence out completely
5 - that i spend most of my day completely hating myself.
i don't know how to fix all this. i mean, i DO know how to fix it. but i am unable to start the process. unable, or unwilling? probably the latter.
when did i get so lazy when it came to changing myself? this was always such an easy thing to start. fire myself up, and get out there and try it. now, i just want to sleep, and sit, and watch cartoons so that i don't have to do the dishes, or plan, or exercise, or make decisions. i hide in this cozy little apartment until i am FORCED to take action. when the dishes are overflowing, and i have no clean spoons. when i am out of socks.
i don't care.
i don't care about any of it.
i just want to stay in this curled up little ball, and stop moving. stop going to work. stop caring about anything.
my brain, however, is fighting this desire, but only to a point. my sad little heart is winning. and i can't help but wonder if all the dreams about my mother this week have something to do with the weight on my heart.
no, no. this is me. this is about me. i truly hate so many things about myself, that i cannot see how anyone else would ever value them. i know intellectually that this must start with my own self-image. but frankly, i think i'm going to just go to bed. have a shot of jameson. and ignore the incredible beast of guilt gnawing on my conscience.
who could ever love a fat girl?
Hello there! You write and say you are a motherless daughter but perhaps you are more of a soul sister. I am sure you have many, many "sisters" out there. I wanted to tell you that I used to drag my agony (that I believed was caused by my mother's mental illness)around with me. For the most part I tried not to show anyone this weight that I kept taking with me everywhere I went. But there were cracks in the armour at times, the gates would open and I tried to explain to a few people some of my troubles. People would listen but not really hear until one person whom I shared my private difficulties with had a mother with schizophrenia and there was a knowing and an understanding and a reverence. And so some relief...Yet still,all of these years later, I don't have the combination to figure out how to make my mother well or how to heal from the damage done. And I fear I perhaps never will. I haven't yet ever been able to put my burden down at the foot of the cross as one of my friends (who also had a mother with a mental illness) asked me to try and do. Ultimately, I've decided that I will probably never be able to let it all go entirely and inevitably there will be hard times ahead. But instead of dragging that burden behind me, letting its weight tug at my bones, I've opted to carry it instead. I'll carry it with me. It is lighter this way. And so it still comes with me. And onward I must step - one step in front of the other...one step, two step, three... Remember that out of your suffering, once you walk all the way through the fire, you will come out shining and brilliant. I am still in the fire. And so you seem to be too. Do not be afraid. You are resilient. You will get tired from the battle so then rest awhile. But then you must get up and wage some more war with yourself. Tell yourself it is not an option to give up once and for all. Remember that you aren't alone in your walk...you have undoubtedly many soul sisters!!
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