You know that feeling when you’re suffering from ‘sob constipation? When you needed a good cry, but there wasn’t a good spot to do it in, so you held it, and now that there is a place you can’t get it out because you were holding it? I’ve got that going on at the moment.
There was a woman who spoke at an event today, about the cycle of abuse. She didn’t say it in a textbook way, she said it in a way I could understand. I wish I could have filmed it or something, I don’t remember anything now. But it gave me sob constipation.
She talked about witnesses, and the difference of that versus observers. She talked about getting angry. How victims of abuse would think things of themselves that they’ve been told over and over.. I wish I could remember it. I’m probably not getting it right right now either. This time I did come up and thank her without being an idiot (last time she touched my arm in an ‘I care’ attitude my tongue was tied because I don’t remember the last time that happened)
My core is separate from what my family does to me. I know I like myself and my potential life, and my core is strong in that. What they do hurts, but it can’t touch that inner center where I know who I am.
I’m finally angry.
And no one listens to my anger, or.. anything I have to say.
I love my two cousins with all my heart, and the family cat (not my cat, the family one I grew up with that was ‘my cat’ there). Unconditionally. I love the rest of the family, but that sometimes seems.. heavier? More conditional in a sense? But I want to adopt my cousins and steal the cat and live like that. That aunt is the most poisonous, I don’t know what’s real or not. She’ll ignore me at the drop of a hat, so I have to pretend, so, so, hard, at being normal, to try to stay present for those cousins at least. I am so so worried at how they fare at home, and the fact I can do nothing, only change my behavior. So I change it for the worse (not in an evil sense, but a.. neutered sense) and pretend the status quo is normal, just to be even present in their lives. I don’t know what’s more harmful. I’m probably enabling my aunt’s awfulness by trying to be neutered, but I’m not there, maybe my cousins are doing okay. Not to my eyes though.
My parents feed the cat shit like Meow Mix. The poor dear weighs a ton, smells bad, and her fur looks like she hasn’t seen a shower in months, if that makes sense. She cleans herself okay, but her hair is greasy and flaky at the same time.
I wish I could take all of them, I love them so much.
The sob constipation probably started a few days ago, at group. In the middle of talking about a point, I realized another point. The reason my apartment doesn’t feel like home is.. that I’ve never had one. So mentally and emotionally my foot is figuratively outside the door. I’m on high alert, and even lounging on the couch won’t soothe it. So even though I literally have my own, safe place to stay, I’ve never had that anywhere else. Some were more extreme than others, but the one that was the worst, obviously, is that I was never safe in my parents’ house. My room was never ‘mine’. It was made clear that it was their house, I was just living in it. My ‘room’ was cleaned when it didn’t match dad’s standards, same with my possessions. If that wasn’t by my mother’s standard, it would go to goodwill. Which isn’t even mentioning how I myself am treated, which is even worse.
So, cycle of abuse? I’ve finally gotten angry enough to say something. I sent an email, and called mom, about it. That really really sucked, so never mind that. When do I.. give up.. on them? Excommunicate them and move up to Maine? I’m not going to do that, but, I need to do something, for the sake of myself.
(I tried to go to the LGBT night at a bar here to cheer me up. I got all touchy feely with a guy, and he was back, but in the end, he was straight. The entire dancefloor was straight people, the gays lurking miserably on the sidelines. So, he was straight, and I’m a cliche, hahaha )