I wish I could come back from my silence with a happy go lucky update to make everyone smile but alas, you all know me a bit better than that I think! (Yes, I like talking to myself)
My 26th birthday came and went without any major incident which was fine, I thought that I had made it through the whole birthday thing pretty much unscathed but the effects seem to have been delayed. For the past couple of weeks I have barely eaten, haven't washed, haven't changed pj's, as a matter of fact I absolutely stink! My hair is a matt ball of grease and part of me, a huge part of me, really just doesn't give an absolute shit.
This has been my 'Let's feel sorry for myself!' time and lots of tears have been cried into my pillow, I hate this time of year, hate it hate it hate it! Each year that passes as I quickly approach the big 3-0 I look at all the things I don't have, all the things that when I was younger I thought I would have achieved by now and I haven't.
No job, no house of my own, no boyfriend or signifigant other ever in my life, no children, well maybe not so much children, I've only decided that I would quite like to be a mother in the past couple of years since seeing my niece grow up into her beautiful five year old self.
I had dreams, lots of dreams and I accomplished none. I see other people that I used to go to school with and wonder where it all went wrong for me. I was never a bad person, I am not a bad person that much I can accept. Am I crazy? Probably. Am I fat? Yes, morbidly obese actually. Am I ugly? Personality wise no, looks wise yes. But I am not a bad person, I am not a stupid person either.
I've learned to just 'be' a certain way I guess. It goes back to the triangle my counsellor talked about, the Victim, Persecutor, Rescuer scenario. In school, I was determined not to be a victim, when people tried to pick on me or called me names I answered back with humour and never ever showed them any sign of weakness, even though when I got home and was alone I would cry my heart out, I could never do that in front of them.
Because of my perceived strength in secondary school I was left alone pretty much, I became known partly down to my name, size and the fact that I wasn't willing to take any shit. I never resorted to violence, that's not my thing, but humour and quick witted one liners can definitely be a weapon if you know how to use them in the right away which fortunately I did.
I had a solid group of friends in school, one of them in particular used to get picked on quite a bit because she was so quiet and shy and she made the mistake of always getting upset and tearful whenever someone called her a name. Instead of being a victim, I took on the role of Rescuer, I tried to help her and stand up for her as much as I could, I tried to take her under my wing and protect her I guess.
My life is pretty much spent flitting between the roles of Victim and Rescuer, sometimes I can be a Persecutor but it's very rare as I don't feel comfortable persecuting anyone, others can do that and they do it well.
Right now I am firmly in camp victim and when I am in a mood like this it's very difficult to get of. It's almost like I become addicted to how I feel, like this is how I SHOULD feel because it's all I deserve. I go through so many different emotions and I end up realising that this is why I don't have friends or a partner, who would or could put up with someone like me as I am right now? I don't think anyone could.
I mean my family don't really have a choice in the matter, they're not the kind of people to kick me out on the streets and never speak to me again. My mother after all she has done for me and continues to do for me deserves better, I know that yet I can't seem to do anything about it. When she gave birth to me twenty six years ago I bet she didn't realise how much of a drain I was going to be on her life, how she was still going to be stuck with me as I approach thirty. She had a life when she was my age, she was working, dating, socialising, she had friends, she probably looks at me and wonders where it all went wrong, how someone so weak could be her daughter. She has MS and she copes with it better than I cope with my minor shit.
I know I am a disappointment in every sense of the word and I guess I am writing this just to get some feelings out. I'm not looking for sympathy or for people to understand, I guess most will read this and think 'well do something about it!' but the only way I can describe how I feel right now is that I am right at the bottom of a pit, I have to climb the pit to grab my life and take control again but each time I climb I get kicked down to the bottom again.
I would never in a million years wish these sort of feelings on anyone, not even my worst enemy because they are agony, torture. Sorry for going on too much, I wish this could have been happier.
