Sunday, January 25, 2009

   time
I am rereading posts from high school and from the beginning of college. It's odd to read them b/c I realize just how small my world has always been. I am in my own head. And a lot of what I wrote I still feel, but I know how to control myself and my emotions better. I don't go into those deep, dark places anymore. Plus my grammar and spelling have gotten much better.

It is depressing, though, to read back. No one got how bad it really was to be inside of me. I was constantly being either looked over, ignored, or berated. I was mocked, made fun of, ad mentally tortured inside my own home on a daily basis (And when I write tortured it was, non of it, physical. Basically my brother had a free hand to do and say what he pleased and I was the bearer of his angry tirades). I think that I couldn't have looked on it at that time for what it really was. I had a mentally ill mother who couldn't take care of herself let alone three children. One of whom was clinically nuts (for lack of a better term) and who, now, cannot be trusted.

It really is a wonder that I am as stable a person as I am. That I am capable, after my mother's years of neglect and unintentional psychological abuse, to lead a relatively normal life. Stunted as it is. I only trust one person in my life without any walls between us. I cannot form normal relationships. I feel the need to lie all of the time. I talk incessantly. I eat for comfort. I feel unworthy of anything and everything.

I am self aware. But that gets me nothing. To be self aware is one thing. To know how to deal with life and how to move past one's problems is entirely another. I know what my problems are. But not how to fix them. I bet if someone presented them in a case study format I could easily tell them what needs be done to help that person. But I can't look at myself and do it. And without guidance I couldn't actually perform the necessary tasks to fix everything.

Maybe someday I'll be able to afford a psychiatrist. Maybe someday I'll find my niche and feel good about my life. Maybe I won't.

For now I am simply going to move forward. Taking each day as it comes and not looking too far into the future. I don't like what I see down the road so I know better than to frighten myself with it. But then again if someone would have told me three years ago today that I would have had a car, moved in with a friend, lived with my father, built my own computer, paid bills, or even stopped living with my mother, I would have said that they were nutty. So truly, only time will tell what happens. Or doesn't.
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