It's me. Again.

Well, I'm still alive. [Great] I've got some new stuff. And let's see, I really need help. Or at least someone to tell me what the *** to do. And you might be wondering, why this time? Let's say, like talking with my partner, he... touched on very painful but necessary topics. And let's just say I never got over my trauma, the way I thought I had.

I'm still the 3-year-old girl still looking for her mom and dad, who doesn't know what love is unless it comes with pain, who doesn't know how to let go of that girl I was, who has always lived my life as a spectator and not as a protagonist (I don't know if that makes sense. I mean that you live dissociated from your life and you see yourself, what you do, say, and what is done to you...)

I don't know how to receive love. I don't know how to have feelings, I never have. I don't know who I am. I have a strong trauma related to abandonment. And apparently, I have an anxious and unequal attachment style. [I forgot what that's called, let's call it that for now]

My life has been a fantasy I created to be happy, to ignore and forget my problems, and what people tell me is my way of protecting myself, since I can't accept that I've never been loved. [And I mean it; if I told you my story as it really is, you'd see it's not an "exaggeration."] I refuse to accept that the people I thought loved me (my "father's" family) never did, even though I know it, I seem to deny it.

And let's just say I have a very, very strong attachment to my current partner. He's the kind of man who knows how to take care of me and all that, and yet... I'm still waiting for him to leave.

And to top it all off, I found out that the father who made me suffer terribly and is the one who started all this isn't really my father. Apparently, it was someone else [we'll tell you, Tato].

Apparently I did know Tato for a while, and Tato was indeed a man [I was 6 years old or younger when I met him] he tried to be a good father (I think he knew how) since he always waited for me at the same time every day, in the same park, to play for hours. And to help me cope with my abandonment trauma. Guess what. He left, and I never saw him again. Now I know where it is, but I'm scared... it's strange, it hurts.

And well... I still have the same anxiety. I don't know myself, and the possibility that I might actually have some kind of depression seems more like a reality than a myth. [I want you to know. I've never been able to go to a psychologist, not because I can't, it's because I'm forbidden from doing so. And I still depend on my grandmother. (since university) ]

postscript: I don't want you to think I'm a kept woman or anything, it's just that my grandmother told me to continue taking care of her until I finish my degree.