I rarely cuss. I’m not too fond of it, to be honest. If it leaves my mouth, my patience is fried. I may be there today.
I watched a movie early this morning. A sappy love film.
“How long have you been married? Do you even know who you are anymore?”
I backed it up 10 seconds and listened again…and again..and again.
No, I do not know who I am anymore. And it pisses me off.
A lost person walking this earth; I love its beauty but feel no connection. That’s who I am. The mystery in my identity is no longer amusing. I long to be worth more than remedies and rallies. In motherhood, that’s all I’ve done for years through their chronic substance use. Every other part of me is gone because those elements took it all.
I have nothing more in me while waiting for others to fix themselves. I’ve watched kids grow and hoped they’d find their way. Simultaneously, my purpose and vision escaped and never returned. I feel trapped. Gradually, I stopped trying to flee my cell built by the evil of addiction. I accepted my fate.
Why did I believe their missteps were my consequence?
More importantly, how do I move forward now?
Fight Your Way Back
I sit here in bed, wondering if I am capable of recovery. Some recover from substance use. I am here to recover from my loved ones’ addiction. Do they know? Are they aware they killed a part of me? I am not sure they do. My mental health has not mattered as they repeatedly stumbled in theirs.
If a tiny piece of me doesn’t matter, then none of me does. A truth I fear confronting and pain I feel to my core. My challenge is to remove the desire to be loved by them the way I love and to love myself. I must turn to my reflection and believe in my worth.
But I rarely go there.
Who am I to assess anything? I’m a hard soul who believes in self-sacrifice, optimism, hope, work, dedication, loyalty, and memory loss!
Yes, memory loss.
I play the ‘forget game’ to move on. Forget what they did and what they said; forget the pain, abuse, porn, drinking, and drugs. I work so hard to block things out I never allow myself to heal. The barrel of lies is so deep I can’t reach the bottom. Lying dormant is the substantial lie that if I forget, I’ll be okay.
I’m not okay.
I think I will stop here and unpack and own that truth.
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