I wanted so much to be everything for everyone and I ended up being absolutely nothing to anyone. I sacrificed. I sucked it up. I took the high road when I was wronged. I ignored when people took advantage of me and assumed they didn’t intend to. I gave everyone the benefit of the doubt – that people are inherently good – that if I was a true and decent human being and went that extra mile to show I cared, to show my loyalty or my love, that I would someday matter somehow.
And here is where it brought me. I’m certain there’s not a soul alive on this planet with living family and friends who could possibly matter less than I.
Since my daughters are adults now, I want them to know that I don’t have sex anymore. I don’t drink anymore. I do none of those things they vilified and crucified me for. I wanted so much for them to know…to know that I don’t anymore. Anything. For the first time in five years, I don’t even want them to know that in hopes that they’ll love me again. I just wanted them to know before I’m gone that I don’t anymore. I tried to tell them in a message, hoping they might at the least feel satisfaction or validation that I’ve been adequately punished and destroyed for what they deem my unforgivable flaws, but I know that’ll just be misconstrued.
Add it to the ginormous pile of my good intentions that were twisted into something ugly.
What I did not bother trying to say is:
I also don’t play anymore. I don’t connect with people anymore. I don’t laugh anymore. I don’t dance anymore or hope anymore…or love anymore.
I don’t hug people anymore or ache to write anymore. I don’t even wish to be loved anymore.
I don’t go to the beach anymore.
I don’t date anymore or create exciting new meals anymore.
I don’t sing anymore or enjoy the music I once passionately loved anymore.
I don’t bother to stand up for myself anymore. I don’t long to be heard …I don’t even like to speak out loud anymore. Somehow speaking feels ridiculously futile and senseless, like a huge waste of time and energy.
I don’t assume the best of people anymore.
I barely consider myself human anymore. I must not be.
I just don’t anything anymore. The pain I’m in inside is so fierce, so relentless, and so crippling it hurts to be touched – physically or emotionally. The fear in me of betrayal and rejection like my family has done …or more hurt of any kind on top of this agony.. is so strong it terrifies me to allow anyone, past or present, anywhere in my vicinity.
I’m alive. I know I exist only because the pain is there every minute to harshly remind me that I’m still breathing.
I’m alive but I’m not living. I don’t live anymore.
All the things I painstakingly learned to love about myself, I don’t anymore.
Yesterday, a random person predicted my death as July 7, 2017. Funny, all I could think was, oh my gosh, I HOPE so…
And then immediately when I felt the flash of hope that it will indeed be over soon, I quickly remembered I don’t hope anymore.