The air outside is cloudy, cool and in stark contrast to the hot, windy days we've had recently. I hear the rain drop on the windows, and roof much like the tears in my lap. It's one of those days. If you're looking for warm , and fuzzy... this post isn't going to fulfill that.
It's happened again. I have been lied to. Betrayed, and forsaken.
At first there was anger, then the inevitable piecing out of what would be the logical way to handle the situation. I figured that out, and decided it was what was to be done. For a few days this was okay. Then that little voice inside of me got harder and harder to silence. It's the sound of my inner child, or whatever you want to call it. She began as an essence, but moved to a whisper. I escape her by daydreaming of times where things were better. There's no better way to soothe a current hurt than to get nostalgic. Suddenly, I am 15 again, and the possibilities are endless. I can remember when I felt I was something, and that I mattered. I don't search for a specific memory as much as how specific feeling. If I can at least artificially feel loved, and important than I can figure out how to get through another day. If I can convince myself that I am an okay person then I can cope, just one more day. That usually works for small bouts of loneliness, or rejections, but big ones? I just can't escape inside of my own head enough to alleviate that much sadness.
So, the little voice grows louder. Her mumbles begin to get more audible. "....doesn't like you..." and "..Your fault"... and more cynical statements begin surfacing. With it are the images of memories, and times long repressed to the back of my mind.
I get busy. I try to drown her out with tasks. I really don't have time for all this negativity. I have stuff to do! My house gets cleaner, as I fall apart inside. Perfection is soothing to me, as I strive to have the best of everything. Obsessive would be a good word to describe this phase of mental deterioration. To others it looks like I am just getting things done. I am. Sometimes, this motivation is all I need to snap back to feeling good again. However, if it isn't.... it is pretty much the last stop on the coping train.
If not, then what?
The voice is now clear as a bell. It's loud, and unwavering as I face the feelings that I am so trying to not feel. She reminds me of that time in grade school where the kids rejected me, and that other time when my parents told me how I was this or that negative trait. I remember all the times I needed someone, and no one was there. Things like going through labor until the last 2 pushes completely alone, and sitting alone in a formal dress eating a candlelit dinner, because my husband had other places he wanted to be. I remember the times I asked for reassurance, and was yelled at. I hear all these things, and see all the memories. I start slipping into a dark place. I fall to pieces as the tears flow for sometimes hours, days even. It's in this place where I typically decide that maybe my parents are right. I am not worth anyone's time. I am just a bad person to my core, and all that I do is wrong. I don't know who to share this with. I am afraid to tell anyone. They'll not understand, or maybe they'll think less of me. They'll pity me, and wonder why I chose such a sad life. Maybe, they'll see the defective person my family sees. I can't risk that.
This place is where I am today, and I am fully aware of how counterproductive it can be. I know that I am not getting anywhere feeling like this, but I am unable to do anything else. I am stuck at the corner of hopeless and despair. I need the rest. Tomorrow may be a better day, but today I have to struggle to breathe. I remind myself of the times where I was happy, and have faith that I will feel that again. That I do matter, and will matter to someone who knows how to show it in a way that is uncomplicated. My light has been dimmed, but it still burns. Hopeless is how I feel, but not who I am. Tomorrow is a new day, and if it isn't... the next day is.