As far back as I can remember, I’ve always had this nagging thought in the back of my mind. This thought that life is pointless and tiresome. I don’t remember much of being a child. It is as though I was someone else before I became a teenager. Photographs are life’s little moments captured in a stillframe and frozen. Looking at childhood pictures bothers me, because I feel as though I am looking at someone else. I feel as though the pictures are supposed to make me recall the moment in the photo. But I don’t. I don’t remember dressing in the clothes I am wearing in the pictures. I hate dresses. I don’t remember the thoughts I was having. I don’t remember the emotions. I don’t remember the events that took place. I don’t remember anything. It disturbs me that I can’t remember. I don’t know why I can’t remember. But most days I struggle with the memories I do have. Maybe it is best I don’t remember anything else. I wonder if something bad happened. Is it possible to suppress something? I tell myself to not think about it. But there is a persistent pain in my heart that I don’t know how to get rid of. There is an emptiness in my soul that cries out in agony.
At 12 I was raped by my mom’s boyfriends son. Something must have snapped, because since then I don’t think I’ve ever been the same. I feel into a deep depression that feels like it just gets worse with age. I have had my moments, when i feel like the sun is finally coming out. But it never does. I must’ve hated myself since that day. Because I only allow people into my life who continue to make me feel worthless. I have been in multiple abusive relationships. i don’t understand if I attract men that see my weaknesses or if my difficult personality forces them to treat me the way they do. I know I am not blameless. But I don’t feel like I deserve to be beat. I don’t mean to be so broken. i tried so hard for so many years to build myself over and forget everything. But it all just came crashing down around me. My cover was blown and everyone knows how worthless I really am. I feel like no one could ever love me. My own mother threw me away. How could anyone love me? I get so scared of caring about people, because i hate it when they leave me. So I have stopped allowing myself to care about people. I try but I somehow sabotage everything I work for. In the end, I dont understand why I have to live. I’ve never understood why I don’t get to decide whether I want to live or die. I didn’t ask to be born. No one, including myself, cares if I live or die. Everytime I stand up and try to love myself someone comes along to bring me back to reality. I don’t want to be here. I don’t care enough to try anymore. It feels like its been 30 years of non-stop turbulence. Let me off. I dont want to keep going. People always tell me ‘it gets better’. I know. I know it does, I know it can, I know it probably will. But I just don’t care to see it happen. I will still be who I am. These feelings inside me have never stopped enough for me to enjoy anything. I am filled with so many emotions and yet I am numb at the same time. I am the walking dead. Let me rest please??!!
2 comments
Do you have a therapist? If not, find one. Even if you don’t have a lot of money, you can find someone in your area that will work on a sliding scale. Try calling RAINN 1.800.656.hope. http://www.rainn.org/get-help
You are falling into the pattern of abusive relationships because it’s what you know. It’s hard to break the cycle, I know. I know what you mean by feeling like part of your life happened to someone else. I get that more than I’d like to admit. it sucks so badly. And it hurts so much. It gnaws away at me. I don’t get why I was born either. My mother told me when I was a kid that she had an abortion before and after me, that I was the result of a misplaced diaphragm. She abused me…and I’ve often wondered what made me so God damned special that I had to be the one born. Why couldn’t I be aborted too?
Good luck. I know how hard this is.
Hello. Here I am a man of almost 60 years and still regret my birth to a woman who hated herself and abused her offspring regularly. Myself and least two of my siblings have tried without success to off ourselves. I have often wondered why I was ever born. I know many of the canned responses the question of “Why was I born?” but deep down I still view my birth and childhood as a tragic set of circumstances, just a tragedy ready to unfold, and those canned responses do not satisfy me. Thanks to certain selfish people who interfered when I almost succeeded offed myself I am still alive in this misery. I know it has been some four years since your post but I hope you see this and get some comfort from it.