Mundane Days

No bed one stories or tucking me in. I did it all myself, like a little responsible adult in a childs body. And in the night Id often hear knocking at my door can I come sleep with you?. My little sister was afraid of the dark, so I had to leave a the corridor light on and leave the door ajar. I never left my bedroom door open usually, that was like inviting trouble. I locked it all the time because I knew if I didnt, my brother would barge in uninvited.

I was not a happy child, but I never felt like a child at all, in fact i never felt like a person. I had no regard for myself whatsoever, Id get hurt physically but I wouldnt make a fuss, there was no point in crying over a broken finger... nobody would do anything. I think I learnt that very early on, to just get on with it because nobody is gonna care. I learnt how to fix stuff myself (broken fingers can be fixed with a popsicle stick and a bunch of bandaids).

Injuries were an inconvenience... but hard to avoid them. My brother was very violent so it would often result in bruises and bumps which didnt bother me at all... it was the cuts and broken bones that were an inconvenience. I remember one time sitting on my wall holding my knee trying to stop the bleeding from a massive gap I had from falling onto some sharp stones. My brother pushed me off the balcony onto this rocky path and I fell on my knees. It probably warranted some stitches as I still have a gaping hole there now but I dont remember any pain

I just remember that it wouldnt stop bleeding and I was afraid Id get in trouble if I made a mess with it in the house... So I sat on the wall waiting for it to stop.

I was not and am not afraid of pain, it was something very familiar to me, so much so that I knew how to handle it like a pro. They could strap me down and break fireworks on my back and Id be some place else, nowhere specific, not a tropical island or a flowery field, Id just be nowhere. My mind would be empty and my body foreign to me and Id be numb. Nothing could defeat me.

But I was and am afraid of fear. The fear of being ambushed, the fear of being abandonned, the fear of being hurt, the fear of being forgotten somewhere and not knowing how to get back home... I carried a lot of fear which made me a very anxious person til this day.

I often think of myself as a wild child, because it did feel that way. I look back on things and realize that a lot of my behavior was about survival. I was able to set aside petty unimportant things and focus on the things that mattered: not having shoes on was not even something I even stoped to think could be a problem of any kind (even though my teachers at school said I HAD to wear shoes to school), but it was more important that I find a friendly person during the break, with an extra sandwich or a fruit they didnt like which I could have on days they sent me to school without a lunch bag. One other girl was only ever given bread and butter and I remember feeling sad for her but grateful shed get bored of it and share with me (I liked the salty butter and soggy bread).

Some days I think back on these things and it kills me; like I literally feel broken and so profoundly hurt by the total disregard/neglect for my person, but then theres some days I think how certain strengths and skills I have now are thanks to the difficulties I faced growing up.

The fact I was independent as a young age means I learnt how to do pretty much anything on my own with little to no help. I learnt that material things were of no importance at all. I learnt to be strong in the face of adversity and to deal pretty well in crisis situations (at least I like to think so).

On the other hand, my childhood ordeals have made me develop a whole load of not so healthy coping mechanisms a

I carry a bunch of fears in my heart, Im often not kind to myself and feel undeserving, I have attachment issues, abandonment issues, difficulty dealing with my emotions, recurring nightmares, depressive spells, self image and self esteem issues, constant anxiety and panic disorder, well basically a whole load of crappy things but I guess thats why I come here: to connect with others who have or had similar fears and issues, so that I feel understood and feel hopeful that maybe some day Ill feel differently. That I can work to overcome my fears, replace the harsh thoughts, have a safe place to turn to when things get too scary or when I feel too lost.

I read a heartwarming post online today about a 30 year old lady who admits she is always looking for a more adultier adult to turn to for guidance and support and that she feels blessed that she could turn to her mom and dad whenever she needed to.

It made me think about how I never felt like I had any guidance or support growing up and how I still dont feel like I have that now, at least not from my parents.

For a really long time Ive tried to convince myself that, seeing as Ive made it all these years without that, that it isnt something that I need... that maybe Im passed the age where Id need a more adultier adult to look up to; that I dont need a mom or a dad.

Truth is I dont really think I know what those really are, the ones that I call mom and dad are far from anything that one would qualify as guiding and supportive. They have never been people I turned to for those things, but have always been the very thing Ive turned away from. I imagine though, that a parent would otherwise be someone I would look up to, aspire to be like in a way, someone i could confide in when things got confusing or scary or when I just had questions about people or life in general; someone who knows more than I do and can pass on knowledge and a person who can reassure me that Im doing okay with adulting in this world.

Ive often felt like an orphan growing up. I still feel that way now. I know that Im pretty much on my own if shit hits the fan. I know nobody loves me unconditionally and I have no safe place to go to. I wish it wasnt that way, because I am always yearning for guidance and support even if sometimes I wont admit it. I have many unanswered questions, Im still trying to figure out what it means to be a person and this thing called life, and the world, and what it means to be a person with a life in this world... I dont feel nearly as prepared or mature or confident to be that. I so often feel lost, afraid, anxious, confused... there are just so many things I dont understand, so many times I didnt have guidance and someone to explain basic life things to me. But when you dont know and you need to know something, you just have no other choice but to try figure it out. So Ive made many mistakes, and Ive spent a lot of time on google, and Ive tried so hard to find other adultier adults to look up to and confide in and ask questions to. Im blessed in that I have, in my short life, been able to find some people who were willing to, even if temporarily, fill in that gap and be that guiding force in my life.

Reading that post today made me realize that perhaps, as much as I sometimes want to convince myself otherwise, that maybe yearning for an adultier adult, parental figure or a person who knows more than I do is not such a bad thing; its not a weakness or something I need to feel shameless about. Ive often given myself a hard time about it and said things to myself like youre an adult now, youve made it on your own all these years, you dont need a parent! But truth is, I do... There will always be, inside of me, that little girl lost in the mall looking for a trusted adult to hold her hand and show her the way home. There will always be a need for a parental figure or a more adultier adult I can turn to to know that Im doing things right, that Im adulting okay and that Im fiting into this world just fine.

I took a short break from the site. I was going through alot in my head and I felt totally comsumed and I know that being on here meant facing up to how I felt and I couldnt do that. I wanted to feel nothing, numb, peace. I thought that by cutting off everyone and everything, it would help. I didn't do that consciously but in hindsight I realized that's what I was doing.

I've just had a baby, and there's a huge part of me which feels inadequate as a mum. I have constant messages in my head that tell me I'm not good enough, I'm a bad mother, I'm gonna ruin my childs life, I'm worthless as a person. And the funny thing is that I have plenty of examples to go by that convince me of that: I let someone drop my baby, I am so tired some days I just lay next to my screaming baby and cry because I don't think I can push through the fatigue from lack of sleep, I've never succeeded to do anything worth anything in my life so I'm gonna die and be forgotten so quickly.

It is awful the things we can convince ourselves sometimes, I know I am my worst bully. I am so critical of myself every day. And I know that in order to feel better about myself, I need to stop doing that.

Ive been on this site for a long time, and for a big part I've felt like a bit of a tourist, or an outsider. I've explored the concept of healing, a bit like a curious kid who is afraid to touch something he doesn't know about. But I've never properly delved into it wholeheartedly. I've shared my story to people for the time, I've been able to be open about it, and although I have felt a sense of relief from doing that, and being received with love and compassion from the amazing listeners on here, I don't feel like I'm healed. And to be honest I don't feel like I even know what it is I need to do to heal.

During this break I decided I would not think of anything trauma related, I practiced mindfulness and tried to control my thoughts whenever they became mean or inconvenient. But the thing is, I still had nightmares, and I still felt a deep hurt. So maybe healing isn't about running away, and I know that peopel say it's about facing it. But how can we face something that totally overwhelms us with fear and anxiety?

I am so grateful to my amazing listeners who have watched me come and go and come and go incessently, and have loved and cared about me regardless of what I've decided to do. I'm so grateful to you for that (and you know who you are). I'm here for now, and until I get another wobbly (lets hope never), I'd like to try and work on becoming the best version of me I possibly can be.

I dont know if anyone will read this or even know who I am but I just felt I needed to leave something for everyone who has been kind to me in some way.

Im not coping. Im not managing this at all. I thought I was, i was trying to do the right things. I thought a baby would change things but it isnt. The pain is just unreal, it cuts deep in my soul and i know now there is nothing that will be able to fix that. No medication, no listener, no therapy, no nothing. Its just there, I carry it around every day: so much fear and sadness when I know just how little I matter. And i wish I didnt care so much how others perceive me, or how people feel about me. But somehow I do. It matters to me that I can trust people, but I know in reality I cant. Not even people who have a legal obligation to do so. it matters to me that Im loved. But I know that there is no such thing really, everyone is out portraying an ideal of love or offering love when its only ever to get something in return.

I can hide behind laughs and smiles so long, cling onto people whos how me kindness hoping theyll be able to help me make order in the mess in my head but I cant do this anymore. I dont want this. I dont want this head, or this body or this life. I dont want any of it and I need some peace. A place I can be pain free, where I can find joy being awake and tranquility in my sleep.

Im so incredibly lost right now... and its so scary to feel this way... my head is such a scary place to be in and I cant help but feel alone. Im alone because I push away the right people, and then I attract the wrong people... fml

I write here because I feel like this is a safe place to just be for a while and to share some things I have on my heart right now.

My heart feels heavy, for so many reasons. But one reason is not the past which I fear to look back on, but the future. The unknown that I have ahead of me and the doubt in my mind that I can go forward with all this baggage and burden on my heart. It feels heavy, every day. Not a single day goes by that I don't want to cry because I feel like my heart is bleeding, and there's nothing I can do about it. I feel hurt, cut deep to the core of my being and so terribly incomplete as a result. The things Ive heard and the shocks that have shaken the essence of who I am into pieces still feel so real and fresh. The cloud in my mind won't let me see things, or feel things the way I wish I could; smell the roses or feel the sea breeze on my face. I'm numb to the good things, and constantly on alert that yet something else that will shake the remains of me is yet to occur. Most days I make by, I keep busy, I try and force a smile, a joke, a laugh... but under the surface I am always shaking, always afraid... and I wish I could find some sort of restbite, a little bit of peace from the chaos amongst the silence. That lingering, alarming and teasing silence that rings in my ears. Because deep down I feel there is no such thing as peace.

(something I wrote awhile ago but that I want to move to this space)

She watched my father hit me so hard my legs would cave and I would fall to the floor, my nose flattened against the hot rocky ground where I'd inhale dust and cough too loud. It hurt... that she stood there and watched. But when the night would come, and there was calm, she'd say "good night, I love you" and I'd say "me too, mum".

He waited for me in corners and tripped me over as I'd treck, tackle me to the ground and put his arm around my neck. I couldn't breathe, I tried to fight, he was so strong and I too light. I tried to scream but had no voice. She knew, she heard, but had no choice. It was brotherly love, or so they said. That's what they jammed into my head. But when the night would come, and there was calm, she'd say "good night, i love you" and I'd say "me too, mum".

He'd hold my hand and take to safe places, where it would just be him and I, no strange faces. I was special, so he said. I was lucky but I felt dead. I said nothing, but she knew. "It's no big deal", she said a few. And when the night would come, and there was calm, she'd say "good night, I love you" and I'd say "me too, mum".

They pushed my face against the bin, put out smokes against my skin. It was funny, it was fun "Beat her up, she's so dumb". I cried alone, I cried to her, I begged to be moved, but she said I should be braver. And when the night would come, and there was calm, she'd say "good night, I love you" and I'd say "me too, mum".

"me too, mum"...