Day 04 Something you have to forgive someone for.
I thought all evening and a lot of today about this. I am a pretty forgiving person. I'm really good at seeing other people's perspectives and wearing their shoes - there isn't much you can't forgive when you do that.
Although, I am very confused right now. I don't know up from down, in from out. I am so confused about how I feel about my parents. I've always been adamant in my conviction that my parents were as little to blame for my shitty childhood as I was. I am sure this cycle of abuse and fucked-uppery didn't begin with them. I've always protected them if someone - say a therapist, my husband or a friend - put forth the idea that they actually fucked me up and they are to blame because they are my parents and I was only a child. I've fought people hard to protect my parents. Or the idea of my parents.
But, fuck me, they haven't done much to protect me. This revelation has shifted my way of thinking these past two weeks dramatically. As I've written in past entries, I've been fuming with rage. I've gone so far as to throw things into walls and just yelling questions into the ether.
Why didn't they love me?
Why didn't they protect me?
Why was I witness to such horrors?
Why wasn't I allowed to be a child?
Why didn't they do anything to help me?
I described more of my childhood to my therapist this week. It was very difficult. I don't think he expected to hear the things that came out of my mouth. He said I should have been put into foster care.
Foster care.
I... have such a hard time accepting that what I tell is really the truth (a PTSD thing) so hearing him say that was difficult. I've told myself to suck it up for so long that the horrors of what was my reality have become silly to me. Silly girl, you are just whining. Your father gave you this and that, and you lived in a beautiful home. Shut up your whine hole.
I am so angry at my parents for what they showed me a relationship is because I am emotionally retarded now. I have the relationship maturity of a child. I am so afraid of intimacy that sometimes I panic when I get a hug. I'm, as with everything else (FUCK!), fighting tooth and nail to learn how to open my mouth and communicate at even the most basic level because in my house there was literally no speaking. The only noise apart from the TV and hum of the computer was my father yelling. Preferably right in my ear. When people get angry I flee for my life into another room, out of the house, into my meter thick shell. Away away away away away.
I'm pissed as hell. I am 23 years old and I am so emotionally handicapped, and I know who made me that way.
My parents.
Fuck, I am such a cliche I can barely stand to write this. But it's the truth and I write the truth. I deserve to let my truth be heard now. I've hid everything for so long. I've let my parents secrets, their marriage, their shortcomings fester in me so long that I'm starting to become them and I DO NOT WANT. I would rather die than to live their life. I am so sick of being their rubbish bin, their parent, their protectors, their rehab, their nurse, their rehab, their punching bag when. I. was. the. child! I needed parents, I needed protecting. I deserved these things! I deserved a childhood that didn't leave me so damaged that I have a list of mental diagnoses that I have to work through to live a happy life.
But I didn't get these basic things. I have to give them to myself now. It's hard work and fucking hate having to do it. And I am angry about that.
Fuck looking at the situation from their view. They never, ever looked at it from mine.
Today, they do not have my forgiveness.
(Guilt. Sorry mum. Sorry dad. I wish I was stronger for you)
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