misguided and confused

Every time that I have tried to "deal" with my past the same responses come up. I am dismissed as attention seeking. I am asked what I want to "get" out of it all. I am accused of stirring the pot.

It hurts. It hurts a lot. Maybe I am seeking attention. As a mother, I know that means that my children are lacking something if they are doing anything in their power to get my attention. I personally do not feel that is my goal. If that were my goal, I know ways that are much more painless.  

I have thought a lot on the question of what I want to "get" out of speaking up. I want to say, my only desire is to shed light on something that happens in families every day. That would be very noble, a cause behind the chaos in my head. But really, all I can say is, I don't know what I want. It is actually probably the hardest part for me to "deal" with. I am a semi motivated person. If I have a goal, I can reach it. If I want something I can get there. But in this situation, I have absolutely NO idea what in the hell I want. Or do I?

Maybe I want to die. That will bring an end about. This is not to say I want to cease to live, or that I will take my own life. But, upon reflection, trying to discern what it is I want, I want the hurt feelings, mean words, condescension, and second guessing to stop. But as long as I breath, as long as I am a part, it will go on. So that leaves me one thing to desire. Please, don't take this as a suicide note. I have much more to live for than you will ever know. 3 sweet faces who hug me when I cry, telling me that maybe I will feel better tomorrow. Little arms that don't really understand why I just screamed when they wrapped around my thigh, but are willing to cuddle when I calm down. Little voices that say, "I love you, all the way to the end". I will not shorten my life voluntarily. No, even if I feel like that is the only thing that will solve the pain, frustration, and sadness in my body. 

Along with the one thing I know I want (that I will not get until it comes naturally) I know what I DON'T want. Stop calling me beautiful. I don't want to be attractive. I don't want that attention. Believe it or not, I don't like all eyes on me. I never have, it makes me feel dirty. I would rather hide in a group, preferably the back of a group. You don't have to believe this (what woman doesn't want to be beautiful?) but it is my truth. 

I also want the accusations to stop. Accusing me of a selective memory, or of being misguided and confused. EVERYONE has a selective memory. My abuser has decided to not have any memory of the most awful parts of my life that he was a key player in. Misguided would make it seem like someone is helping me along in this journey. I am alone. Confused is not even close to the mix of emotions I feel.

What would you do in my position? Sweep it under the rug? Walk away? Go on pretending in life that you are "normal"? How do you think I should react? Therapy? Medication? 

I really am at a loss. 

importance is important

It's been a long time. October '13 until now. I haven't taken the time to listen to myself, to write, to understand, to try. Why? Well I guess just because I'm not that important.... that is not said to receive pity, to point the finger, or to gain attention. It's true.

As long as I can remember I have been reminded that in the big picture, I just don't matter. This all relates to previous posts you know. Abusers make sure their will is what is heard. Society at a whole like to down play women as naive, less than, or just misinformed. There are two strikes against the importance I may have learned to place on myself at some point. But really, have I ever been taught to value myself? Aren't we taught as children that someone, somewhere else, has it worse than us? The children in Ethiopia who have no food, when a child does not particularly care for the food in front of them. The children who would love to have my walk-man when all I want is an iPod...

So what teaches a person they are valuable? Actions. Follow through. Listening. Genuine concern.

So you say you are sorry that most of my childhood I had a very dark secret that I was scared to death to share? Thank you, I am sorry for it too. Would you mind talking to me about it? I could really use someone to listen and possibly cry with me. Some righteous anger would be nice to see. A little bit of ice cream, a little advice, some hugs. Oh, right that would be uncomfortable because you feel bad for him too.... Got it. I will go and keep my secret to myself some more. Thanks for the initial thought though, it makes me feel really.... unimportant.

So you say that you wish I could slow down and take care of myself? Oh, you have no idea how much I agree. Could you take the boys for a few hours so I can set up my sewing room, make a hair appointment, date my husband, take a shower, or any other plethora of things I would love to do for my soul? Oh you're busy, yeah I know, we're all busy. Thanks for the concern about me taking care of myself, at least even if I am not important, I am at least thought of....

So you need my help, encouragement, or direction. Yeah, sure, when can we get together?

See, this is the pattern of my life. I have amazing friends. Some know a lot about the deep dark, have listened, have given me ice cream, hugs, and support. They have watched my kids in a pinch for me to work, shower, or any other thing that might come up.... but they are also not the ones who say trite things. None of my good friends have apologized for my experiences, they have spit with anger, told me I am beautiful and reminded me that without that I wouldn't be here. They have seen how ragged I am and offered to watch the boys for an hour, or two, or more.

So why, why am I not important? My friends did not teach me that I was UN-important, so they are having a hard time teaching me that I AM important.

I made it a year (Jan9-Jan9) without an episode of depression. Considering Liam was born on the day that my "abuser" was celebrating his own life I see this as a very good accomplishment. But all of a sudden I am surrounded by this feeling of sadness, unworthiness, just being unimportant. It's hard to shake, I will, because I am important. But it is hard, so very hard. But I will, in time.