Day 53

What was my last post about? I think something about focusing on the future and taking control. Maybe I should have checked before starting to write this down. Pretty sure it was something about calming down. Regardless, let me fill you in. Definitely didn’t happen last time I wrote that. What happened instead, was a huge blowup and sobbing meltdown over the phone to my dad. For the second time this past week. He hang up feeling quite satisfied that I ‘opened’ up and I hang up with the most rage and hopelessness I’ve felt in a while. It’s like I say blue and he hears red. And that’s, honestly something that I’ve realised for a while now. My parents will never know or understand me. No matter what their intentions are, which is incidentally my dad’s favourite word by the way. As long as he has good intentions and wants the best for me, how his words make me feel have no importance. And how dare I question his intentions. Because, God forbid, he understands the concept that his words and actions can actually hurt someone he loves and this person might react accordingly. In my case, there is so much piled up over the last twenty to thirty years that when you combine all that with my exceptional lack of skills in communication and extraordinary ability to bottle it all up, that maybe he does have no idea how I’ve felt this whole time. Considering we lived in the same house for nineteen years though, it should not be a total surprise.

I moved out of the country to study at 19 and specifically asked that they did not come with me to help, you know, buy all the extra stuff for the dorm and check that everything works. I think I was very eager to show them I did not need them. I wanted them to feel as indispensable as they made me feel. My sister came with me. She is the boujiest person on the planet so all she did the first couple of days was make sure I bought the most expensive double duvet, pillows, plates and cutlery and then, I think the only other time I saw her was when I brought her M&S salad and snacks to her friends she was crashing at before she left for the airport. I, do still have that duvet though and it is amazing, I have to admit.

Back to the wonderful phone calls I shared with my dad, they were both on days that I had decided to move to the beach house, where he is most of the time. That house I just feel doesn’t have all the negative energy and memories this one does and is close to nature and beaches so I can actually try and leave the house sometimes. The only disadvantage is that it is much closer quarters with everyone. My dad is convinced that when we are there, food must not be consumed inside the house after dark, only at restaurants, and if it is during the day then we shall be eating together. Anyway, it’s like an alarm went off in his head, called me, I blew up and never ended up going of course. However, if I stay here I will keep going days without a shower, only leaving bed to go to the bathroom and grab food and combining alcohol with multiple benzos to see if I wake up the next day. I don’t know if this solar eclipse that we just had yesterday is related, because how lovely if our lives were governed by planets and stars, I have actually been feeling better today. Only broke down to cry about five times and three of them were because of a movie so I’m gonna go ahead and call progress when I see it. I, also booked an appointment I’ve been meaning to book for tomorrow, haven’t been taking double the benzo daily dose in one go so I’m starting to actually be able to walk less like a zombie, more like a human and I’m thinking after that to drive down to the beach house and start having an actual routine just for me and spending time outside and hopefully find a stray cat to adopt. Wish me luck!

Day 50

Enough wallowing. I’m not going to end it for now. Enough with the pills. Clearly I’m not brave enough to take a lethal dose so I’ll just carry on using them as sleeping pills, if they’ll even work for that now. I have some savings and I can be by the sea so I’ll go do that and hopefully that makes me feel better. Like the Victorian women, when they would send them to the seaside as a cure when they were being disobedient. My dad being there will most definitely not help, but it’s just a chance for me to set boundaries. It might sound cruel and like he’s trying but he’s had so many chances and he always makes at the very least no difference, but if we’re being honest, which is the whole point of this, makes everything worst. He might say he’s being supportive, he might even actually think it, but he doesn’t know the meaning of that word in the slightest sense. Last time I talked to him, or cried and yelled at him over the phone, I should say, he finally admitted my sister has being getting preferential treatment all our life. Of course he went on to say just because she asked for more stuff and got it, doesn’t mean that if I had, I wouldn’t. Flat out lie and also fully misses the point. One child was raised to expect to get everything she asks for and has absolutely no appreciation for it at all; she believes that her father owes it to her to be buying her a 20000 euro Jeep and as he admitted, of course, he will be getting it for her. And don’t get me wrong, it has nothing to do with the car, I’m not jealous of that, I feel sorry for her that at 35 she feels like her parents owe her to buy stuff, other than financially supporting her her entire life. The thing that angers me is that one child was raised thinking that the world owes her everything and the other one is the biggest people pleaser in the world. I didn’t to create any conflict with the men who coerced me into sleeping with them. Or the people who disrespected me at work. Or the people who give me the bare minimum and I couldn’t be more thankful. So, essentially I don’t consider myself worthy enough to stand up for and only allow what I really deserve. And that really needs to change. And for that to happen, I think I need to t

Day 38

I’ve been home alone with my sister, with whom we now only share polite short interactions surrounding food (since the blowout), for approximately four days now. On the day they left, I thought ‘God, this is exactly what I needed. Some time to myself, where nobody asks me if I’m okay and if and what I’ve had to eat.’ As if listing everything we have to eat and making me very aware of the obvious fact that I can order in isn’t simply infantilising but it’s supposed to make me feel cared for. As if it’s possible to replace actual warmth, empathy and understanding with factual statements stated and already answered questions asked. And it was definitely needed. And then the incident happened. I want to say it happened the second day we were home alone, right when I woke up. I was in a rush, I wanted to catch the lab open before they closed in the afternoon so I had to hurry and get ready. I get up and head to the bathroom and as I am at my bedroom door, I black out, and the next thing I know, I’m on the floor and the back of my head was sore. I still don’t know what happened but now I have a very sore bump at the back side of my head and it hurts when I sit at certain angles. So far, it’s happened twice more, where i black out for a few seconds and have to hold on to surfaces really tight. Today, I was having yet another polity aggressive conversation with my sister at the door when it happened and I unknowingly closed the door on her having had no idea I was doing it or where I was for a couple of seconds after. If I did have a concussion, I’ve survived two nights of sleep so far. Let’s see if I’ll survive the whole thing, even if it will be against my will.