Am I a product of my environment, or just of myself?
The inner turmoil only grows louder. I’m writing this in hopes that I won’t suddenly feel reckless and post it to my blog. Maybe I should delete my page entirely. Not that that would help. If I set my mind to it, I’ll find a way to post it.
I don’t even know where to begin.
I am lost. I don’t know what to do.
***omitted***
I truly can not think of one person whose life has been better because I was in it. ***omitted***
I had to turn the music loud, start a movie, go on a walk, to even attempt to drown out those voices. Oh, you mean not everyone has little cynical voices in the back of their mind, close enough to my own thoughts, that I confuse them. Repeating phrases intended to drive me to the brink, the reason I make most of my bad decisions? That isn’t normal? Then what am I supposed to do about it.
The memories came unbidden today. One after the other. The zoo. Ashlin and Maddie dancing. Driving from the Thai Italian restaurant. Trevor dragging me to the pool. The drive to Pattaya. The hat war and water bottle war in turn. This is what happens when you refuse to process. You will be forced to. It all started when I saw the Ireland flag on a customer’s jacket. That flung me so realistically into when Ashlin decided to learn Irish dances. Then they simply wouldn’t stop, to the point that I was having to brush away tears in the off moments.
I messed everything up with Trevor. There was no reason to. The worst thing is, I was in a relatively stable mindset last night. I just chose to ruin it all anyway. He opened the email 10 times. And all the others again too. I was terrified for what he would have to say, but come to find out, his silence is even worse. Do you hate me? ‘Never have, never will.’ You can’t promise that. I will make you hate me. It is a product of my nature.
Those were the big intrusives today. Minus the obvious “I ruin everything all the time, ***omitted***
I meant to write this. Yesterday. Before. Whatever. Am I a product of my environment? If so, there is no hope for me. The only family I have ever known consists of me (with faults already known), my emotionally unavailable unless it’s anger father, my emotionally unstable uses me as her personal therapist mother, my typical F-boy teenage brother, my moody likely also mentally ill sister, and my bratty undisiplineable brother. Sure, I broke free of the habits and mannerisms that I had had when around them while away. But do you want to know how long it took for those to come back? Two days. Two ***omitted*** days. And wouldn’t ya know it, I’m worse than I was before I left. Is the broken storminess inside me a product of that family? Or perhaps it’s a product of the isolating first six years of school. No friends. Bullied near constantly. No room for a weird girl in a small school. The only one not invited to the birthday parties (multiple times). The one boy who did like me, bullied as a result until he too, turned. I read my journal from that time. I brushed past everything. “Maddi didn’t invite me to her birthday party. I was the only one not invited. I thought she was my friend. Also I got ice cream today.” Is the lack of ability to emotionally process the little t trauma then hitting now? ****omitted*** I bet it’s the Warren saga. I couldn’t help but think of that while I was dealing with the consequences of my own actions today. How I asked for reassurance. How that, and my crash outs, caused him to hate me. To hate himself. I’ve done it once. Evidence shows that I will do it again. Or maybe. Just maybe. I was already broken, and nothing set it off. I am just. Me. I can’t blame my actions on anything other than I am a bad person with selfish intentions.
If I only have a relationship with God in places that are intended to foster that kind of growth, I don’t have a relationship with God. I am not a Christian. I’m living just like all the “Christian” friends from here that I know. But. I don’t know. This one scares me too much to dig into farther.
I will not reach out. I messed it up. It is not fair to him. He doesn’t deserve to have to deal with me. (Is this manipulation though? Maybe everything I ever posted was for him to read.)
I am not in danger of killing myself.
***omitted***
I know I said I lost blog privileges. I just can’t seem to stop. This will be deleted come morning time.
Why did you already read it.
Rainy Ramblings 