Cheers!

It sucks to get caught up in the cycle of blaming yourself for everything. And I do mean everything - no matter how far out of your control it actually is. And just being at the point where you just feel completely inadequate at pretty much everything - it's a really helpless feeling. When you've meant so little to so many people for so long that it is hard to even imagine it ever being any different.

Maybe I really just wasn't very good at anything growing up. Maybe I really legitimately earned my position in the shadows being largely ignored. Maybe I was the drama queen that my mother made me out to be. Always oozing drama at every turn. If I was, it certainly wasn't ever on purpose. I didn't realize having feelings was dramatic. Nobody ever told me I wasn't allowed to feel - I didn't realize those were the rules. Maybe my sadness and hurt really weren't important to anyone. Maybe that's when I made the decision to stop feeling. Or more accurately, to pretend that I stopped feeling. Because slapping a happy face over the pain and tears really only hurt me, and let's be honest, nobody really cared about that. Maybe that's why I started hurting myself - because that was the only way I knew to stop feeling altogether.

Maybe the abuse was my fault. Maybe I deserved it. Maybe I brought it on myself. Because if some people on my life are to be believed, I'm clearly a much worse person than I give myself credit for. Maybe I deserved to feel afraid in my own home. Maybe I deserved a life where i could never ever be comfortable - I'd have even just settled for not scared. Or maybe I was so brainwashed by pretending not to feel that I really believed that I didn't deserve to actually feel - and I certainly didn't deserve to feel love or happiness. After all, I really never believed that I deserved either of those things. Walking on eggshells was the status quo. Always wondering when the other shoe would drop...because it always did. And it was terrifying. Every. Single. Time. Maybe I brought it on myself. Maybe I deserved every bit of it. All because I made the mistake of feeling.

But I don't talk about those things often, so people seem to be under the impression that they never happened. Because I spare everyone the details, they act like I'm just being a big pansy, making something out of nothing. Surely if I had actually been abused, they would have noticed. Clearly I must have been making it up. You know, because people have always been so adept at noticing things. "I'm fine." I smile and joke and laugh even when I'm barely hanging on. I'm afraid that if people knew the real me, they'd run because historically that's how it's worked. 

Because abuse doesn't stop just because you're free from the situation. A divorce decree isn't handed over with fairy dust and a wave of a wand. It's not some magical moment in time where, with the snap of the fingers, all is right with the world again. No, the reality is that the emotions and fears linger long after the immediate threat is gone. I still can't handle most people being too physically close without feeling trapped and being reduced to a puddle of hyperventilating anxiety. I have a very visceral reaction to raised voices, even when raised for reasons other than anger. And I still feel the need to apologize periodically for just the fact that I even exist. I hated myself for so long that it's just second nature.

And holidays are the worst. That might seem backwards, but they are. Every year, walking on eggshells to keep from saying the wrong thing or really just anything. Every year, failing miserably. Every year, even now, feeling like a big buzz kill because the holidays are where the hardest memories hide. Every year around this time, I relive the threats, the screaming, the abuse - the fear. For me, that's what holidays have always meant.

With the dreaded trifecta right around the corner (my birthday, Thanksgiving and Christmas), my chest is already heavy with anxiety. I want it to be fun. I want to enjoy those days. I want to snuff out those horrible memories with new, happy ones. I'm just not sure I'm there yet. I guess it's time to brace myself and jump right in. Maybe this year will surprise me...

...or maybe it's time to have a drink and settle in for the ride...