F.I.N.E

Seriously, I’m all sorts of fucky right now.  There is something wrong with me.  I purged for the first time in months.  There was no attempt at not doing, not really.

I wish I could say I don’t know why I did it.  That I could lie and pretend that this is the Number One Huge Thing that’s wrong with me and that this is all I need to fix.  But it’s not.  What’s wrong with me is that I’m scared.  I’m scared all the time.

I want to push everyone away and run and hide.  I feel like I’m putting on this facade of bravery and pretending that I’m okay and courageous and capable.  But I’m really not.  I’m terrified.  I have the old mantras of ineptitude and not-enoughness and the voices of my exes calling me a liar and no one will ever believe me.  Is this shame?  Is this what shame feels like?  Because it feels more like fear. It feels like sadness and disparity.

Like not knowing what comes next and not knowing how I’m going to do.  Not knowing the scales and spectrum of okayness.  It’s a vast unknown chasm into the depths of my being.  This is it.  This is the cause and effect search, to figure out why I am the way I am and how I can fix it.  How to accept myself and be compassionate.

I don’t feel like I deserve compassion.  I feel tainted.  I feel like that dirty fat little girl that no one liked except as a sex object.  A contaminated soul with a contagious touch that ruins everything.  An angsty emo teen.

Did I ever mention how neglectful my mum is?  Okaasan was never really there.  When she was, she was abusive.  It wasn’t until I was physical back that she stopped being physical, but the emotional and verbal is there.  The constant tries of gaslighting.

I lie and tell myself that I don’t care as much because I like my space.  That I prefer loneliness and isolation.  That being ignored is great because that gives me more freedom.

I lie to myself and try to convince myself that she’s just forgetful.  Maybe my memory is the bad one.  Maybe her words are what matter, not her actions.

I lie and tell myself that her face when she was telling me the wonders of Trump’s presidency was because she doesn’t really understand politics.  That she doesn’t realize how this is stuff that’s not okay and hateful.

I lie to myself when I say that she loves me.  She has to, because she’s my mum.  It doesn’t matter that she doesn’t show it.  She doesn’t say it.  She loves me because someone has to.  Right?

I know I’m a lovable person.  I’m kind and compassionate and super smart and charismatic and authentic and colourful.  My friends all say so.  People often comment on my smile and the way I make people laugh and smile too.  That my loving-kindness that I display makes people happy and feel good.

I know I’m awesome.  I just don’t feel it.  I feel like a whiner.  A liar who is only pretending to be all these amazing things.  A shell of a person with no soul and no light.  Just a hollow emptiness.

No one can love me because I’m too fat and I’ve gained some weight, I’ll think to myself. If I’m happiest with my body when I’m binding my chest, there’s something wrong with me.  I’m an inherently wrong and bad person.  There’s nothing worthwhile about me.  I don’t know half of the things I should.  Nothing in life is permanent so I should withdraw from others to prevent the inevitable crash of pathetic loserdom that is soon to come.

It’s all coming to a head and I no longer know truth from lies.  I’m not sure I know reality from actuality.  Delusions of dysphoria.

It’s a wave of sadness and grief and shame and fear all rolled into one fucked up package and I just needed to vent.  Thank you.

-The Sarcastic Autist

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11 thoughts on “F.I.N.E

  1. I always feel a bit odd clicking on a like button because it fails to say that although I liked that you are honest and open I found it disappointing having to read that you’re hurting. As for being a fucked up package, you’re not by the sounds of it. The only thing that may be a little skewed is the image you have of yourself. Do you really hold your Mum in such high esteem that her opinion or comments should matter? I’m guessing not. Yes I know it’s very easy for me to paint things in black and white from the comfort of my room so many miles from you but reading between the lines you sound like a fun caring person with plenty to offer someone who is willing to share themself with you. I hope things look more positive for you soon. Ned.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Thank you for commenting Ned! I think I’m just having a rough go of it because of the new therapy stuff going on and I’m lashing out. As for my mum, I haven’t really grieved the loss (is it really a loss if I never had one?) of a mother who was never really mothery. You know, nurturing, compassionate, caring, that sort of thing.
      But honestly, I wanted to respond to your comment mostly because it made me feel good about myself. I don’t normally like getting compliments and I never really know how to respond to them. However, you seem rather sincere and authentic in your wording/writing and that, in itself, reminds me that there are decent people out there.
      Keep being awesome and spreading the awesome.
      -The Sarcastic Autist

      Liked by 1 person

      • My own Mum died 21 years ago. I think she may have tried to be Motherly but if she was then she was very bad at it. I have moment when I miss her or at least miss the idea of her. These moments however are fleeting and soon pass. I’m glad my comment resonated with you. I don’t always leave comments but when I do I want them to have been worth leaving. I don’t think enough people leave comments on wordpress. Keep up the writing mate. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

      • When I was living with my ex, I went about a year without talking to my mum. That was a very good year. I like to think that my own journey through therapy has helped me be more patient and understanding that she just isn’t a good parent, but it still hurts that she denies any wrong doing. Or she paints herself a victim. It can make being understanding hard. And that makes me feel terrible and alone. So the idea that you, although your situation is likely different than my own, have similar emotions, it makes it easier to deal.
        And thanks again. I’m going to keep writing, even if I end up being the only person to read these. It helps me process.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Remember that recovery isn’t in a straight line. This is normal and okay and part of the process. It’s hard. Really hard. We open wounds, air them out, and suffer the pain all over again. It really sucks. I forget which movie it was but the quote is, “It has to hurt if it’s to heal.” I wish that wasn’t true but so far in my experience it is.

    I could be wrong but I think your current stage in therapy might have triggered this, which is to be expected and okay. The good thing is you are being honest and open about it. I agree with Ned. If you were truly fucked up, you wouldn’t be able to write this blog with the clarity and self awareness that you do. That’s a gift that you can use to guide you forward.

    Hang in there. ❤ We all stumble and fall along the way, but the important thing is the willingness to get back up and keep trying.

    Liked by 1 person

    • It’s sort of like a broken leg. If it healed wrong, then you have to rebreak it and set it right. So yes, I’m going to be having to hurt all over again to heal, just like you said. And I don’t like it because I’m am super awesome at avoiding things. Also, thank you for calling me self-aware. I think that’s a great compliment. I can’t say I’ve ever been called self-aware before.
      My goal for this is to attempt it. And if my first attempt doesn’t work, I’ll have to do another attempt. At the end of the day, so long as I tried my best, even if my best wasn’t good enough, I’ll know that I can do better and try harder the next day. Especially with all you awesome people supporting me.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. You’re welcome. Sometimes all those icky feelings and thinks just come and even if not true they is so many it feels true. Kinda like anxiety attacks and panic attacks in the beginning. The good part is you know was a problem so you’re ok. It only bad when not thinks is problem. I’m believing in you and support you

    Liked by 1 person

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