Friday, April 25, 2014

... Everyone else can fuck off.

   A few days ago, a good friend of mine asked me about writing and if it helps me.  As I was messaging with her back and forth, I had to recognize that yes, yes it does help me to write.  However, I haven't been writing as much as I should or would like.
   I have a lot to say about a lot of things, but I push much of it down.  I keep it locked away.  Why?  Because I'm worried about hurting people's feelings.  I refuse to hurt others while hurting myself.
   One thing that has been on my mind is that I found out that one of my cousins is hanging out with that disgusting bastard.  The thing that hurts is that she knows how much I have been affected by what he did to me as a child.  In fact, I worked hard to make sure she was never left alone with him if I were present.  I did this because I never wanted her to suffer the way I did.  Now that I am estranged from the majority of my family, I hear that she is spending time with him.  That's fine, she is an adult.  She can take care of herself.  I am no longer anyone's protector.  I can only protect myself.
   It hurts.  I feel betrayed.  What can I do?  I don't spend time with anyone in my family anymore other than my grandmum and two great aunts.  I never wanted people to choose sides.  However, by choosing to keep him in their lives, they have essentially chosen sides.  I cannot associate with people who think it's okay to be around someone who did such horrid things to me.  If anyone actually knew the shit that bastard did to me, I wonder if they would really be okay with him.  Everyone just knows that he molested me.  They don't know the extent of it.  Most of it it is pushed so far back in my brain for my own protection, but some of it, some of it won't leave my memory.
   I constantly have dreams about telling everyone how I feel about them, but yet, I'm polite if I see them.  I don't want to be polite.  I want to hurt them as they have hurt me.  I want them to feel the pain of loss, the pain that I felt and still feel to this very day.
   It may sound harsh, but most people are pretty much dead to me.  I've already mourned the loss of my family and I'm learning to live life with a much smaller family than before.  Those who are there for me, are there for me and I will always be there for them.  Everyone else can fuck off.

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Who Takes Care of the Non-Mothers?

   Some days I am fine with the fact that I will never be a mother.  Other days, it makes me sad that my parents will never be grandparents.
   Today is one of the days that I feel shitty about not being a mom.  I was thinking that I am 31 and when I was born my grandmas were in their early to mid forties.  My mom is fifty.  She should have been a grandmum by now. Unfortunately, she has a daughter who has a broken reproductive system.  The most shitty part is that my parents would be amazing grandparents.
   The thing is, I'm kind of relieved that I'm not going to be a mom because I think I would be a terrible mother.  I would like to be a good mom, but in all reality, I know that I can't be.  I wouldn't be.  I just don't have the energy to be there for someone as often as they would need.  Some days I don't even have the energy for the bare necessities.  Those are the days that I am thankful for the way life is.
   I mean, I have furry babies, but they can't take care of me when I'm on my deathbed.  I'm alienated from my family on my dad's side.  I'm not going to have anyone to take care of me when I'm old.  I mean, that's why most people have children right?   To have someone for them later in life.  I will have CW, but how can I expect him to take care of me when he'll be old too?  I just get so scared at what the future will be.
   I can't say shit to anyone about how I really feel because  seriously, what could they say?  There's nothing that can be said to make anything seem right about this situation.
   My stepson hates me.  I don't blame him.  I suck.  I said some crappy stuff about five years ago that I can't forgive myself for and I'm sure he won't forgive me either.  I get all weird hen he's around because my husband acts weird when he's around and I'm not sure if it's because of my vibe or what the fuck.  So of course, he won't be there for me when I'm an old asshole.  I wouldn't be there for me if I were him.  I mean he doesn't even think of me for mother's day or my birthday or Christmas, so why would I think he'd want to take care of me when I'm dying?
   Fucking sucks.  Days like this I curse the broken uterus and everything else in the world.  I hate it all.