Gone mental

Notes from my Black
2022-07-14 03:35:09 (UTC)


I’m like that U2 song… I’m just droning along. My Kickstarter campaign was already approved… 3 days early. Then she took the opportunity to just decimate me verbally.

I had this flash memory-
When I was in jr high, I wasn’t well mentally. My parents were on me to be perfect. Perfect grades, perfect athlete, perfect manners, perfect in any and every way that anyone could look at our family and pick out as ideal. I was to be seen and not heard. I was never to speak unless spoken to. I was groomed to be a worker bee. But I wasn’t a perfect student. I wasn’t a perfect athlete. I was ideal in that my manners were impeccable. I dressed normal and did what was asked of me. In fact I worked hard to predict what was going to be asked so I could do it expeditiously. It didn’t matter. I routinely got hit, verbally abused and affection was reserved for the good kids… which I was only occasionally one of.

I remembered the moment, the exact moment I broke. I’d been floundering for a while, but one night, I was being overwhelmed by the yelling and chastising. I crumbled in a different way. I often cried, which was considered weak, but this time I went numb and instead of sobbing, I went blank and dark. My kind focused and my internal monologue took over. I vowed I was going to start sleeping under my sink, in the vanity. I mentally went through the obstacles. No pillow. It wouldn’t fit, plus I didn’t deserve it. I would leave the items under the sink because I didn’t want my parents to see a mess on the ground and question me about it. Plus, I didn’t deserve the extra space. My job was to take up no space. I had heard that smoking stunted your growth. So I started sneaking cigarettes. At the age of 13 I was smoking about one a day. It was all I could sneak.

After a few weeks of this, I got scolded again. I’d had a bad series of days at school. I wasn’t the cool kid, or even friends with them anymore. I’d been shunned and was starting to get teased again. At school I made a plan to cut my wrists. I still have a noticeable scar on my left wrist. I’ve written about the wrist bands… this was the start of wearing them 24/7.

Anyway, this ultra vivid memory hit me tonight. Only some of it I had previously remembered. The flash happened because I was getting berated. I couldn’t take it. My son was seriously upset and beating himself up, literally hitting himself in the head. My brain shut down… I did the best I could to beg her to stop. And I broke just a little more.

So despite having a banner day at the Bender household, I wanted to pick up a carton of smokes and just fucking die for a minute.

I told her later some of this. Her response was that trauma responses are good. They give us insight as to am what is broken. I have to think that sometimes it’s not me that is broken… it is just me dealing with the same crap I didn’t learn to deal with the first time… and I’m no better at it now.

After having therapy for a year and a half and working through so much of this garbage, she wants me ti go back… also wants me to consider couples therapy. Really… like I really want to get double teamed… I quite literally would rather be alone on a fucking iceberg for 59 years eating only kelp popsicles the entire time.

Idk… I really wish I was better at life. It’s like I can do it in bursts, then I just fail. Fail exponentially fabulously.