Day by Day

Things become that little more clearer. I continue to feel so traumatised because of how vulnerable I am around other people. It feels likely that everyday I’ve tread lightly around other people that I was bullied away from myself.

Every time those who care about force help me they don’t allow me to do what I need to do to help myself. Which is to be alone to ground myself. And to do whatever I need to do to take the pain away.

It fair to say now that I don’t trust anyone. Family have always been the hardest people to talk to because of how close we are and how, likely the case all along, that I don’t feel safe with family.

And in the end it turned out to be the case that the closest friends who you choose as your family hurt you the most.

I don’t want to be alone for the rest of my life. But there are no words to describe how much I hate this life where I stuck living at home.

I do live my mom and have done for some time. I’m sorry if you’re reading this although I don’t think you follow it that closely.

I need to move away and find my own place I know you love me and care so much for me but I can’t ever be happy living with you. We’ve tried to talk about being honest with each other.

I’ve tried to tell you that I need to be more independent. I’ve tried telling you that I need you to be less mothering. You always tell me that’s just who you are.

I realised now why I virtually refuse to look after myself when I’m at home is because I need my own routines, my own methods, my own time, my own space, to develop the confidence to make it part of my day by day.

I need to eat when I want to eat what I want to eat. I’ll never learn what is the best way for me to do things when you just insist on doing things for me even when I ask you not to.

My mind and my inner world is chaotic. A large part of me needs a messy environment because I feel less exposed.

Most of all I need you not to make me feel shameful for expressing my pain because you and anyone else felt worried.

I spend all my time at home avoiding you because I hate not be able to walk down the stairs without you asking me if I’m ok.

I have so much anxiety because you have so much anxiety. And I’m the first one you come to to unload all of your stresses. I can barely deal with my own let alone yours.

I love you very much I want to be as kind and helpful as you are. I don’t think you’ve ever been able to understand or accept how truly screwed up I was becoming.

When I can learn to be independent and actually have my own life, I’ll be able to talk to you more freely and will enjoy seeing you.

I’m trying to learn how to say what I feel and not be afraid to upset you. This has been a particularly deep well of discomfort and I needed to get this out.

Thanks as always for reading.