goldmourn (amberdawnpullin) wrote,
goldmourn
amberdawnpullin

what makes you, breaks you

Sunday, October 3rd, 2021.
11:18pm
Not even turning on music for this writing session. The sound of rain outside is enough. A cat or two seems to want to be around me right now and I'm like why aren't you sleeping somewhere or doing something else? can't you see I'm busy? but they are cats and they will do their cat like things. It's been raining all day. It says Light Rain on the weather app but it sounds like a heavy rain but maybe it's just the way the sky has been all day and the way the sloshing on the highway nearby has that persistent rain sound.

11:23pm I'm exporting from iMovie the vlog for today. It's just me rambling to the camera again at an unflattering angle. I went on for half an hour saying who knows what about whatever but at least I did the thing. I am still trying to get used to talking to a camera again. To think I used to make vlogs (though much shorter ones) years ago and it didn't seem this difficult but now, oh, now I am weighted down with age and other, well, weight, and it's all anxiety in making them but I won't be able to get over that if I don't try and besides, I'm feeling anxious all the time. Why not make something with it?

I'm late in getting to my words. I was going to have a time of starting by at least 11pm at the latest or thereabouts but I was finishing up with the title of the video. By the time I get to the point of being able to export it to YouTube, I don't expect it to be done uploading or processing for hours into the late night or early morning. But I made the thing. I am doing the thing. The next video needs to be a heck of a lot shorter though. More concise. Maybe I should write down some video ideas for vlogtober but I don't know. Maybe what I need to do is just get used to talking to the camera again after all. Maybe I just need someone to talk to - my own thoughts out loud - because I'm alone in myself and my day to day life for the most part and being able to talk to the camera is at least something. I don't even want an audience for it because of how self-conscious and terrible I feel about how I look at this time but isn't that all the more reason to keep at this? If I was out in the world, even if classes had been back in person again, I'd have to be seen, as I am, and it's not like I'd be tossed out for how I am at the moment. It's just my brain criticizing me and tearing me to pieces because that's what it's done for as long as I can remember and what of it?

Earlier today I spoke of how I remembered I'd need to save myself if my dad couldn't make the choice to save us. That feeling that I would be pulled down with him in his decline, emotionally and otherwise, and I think it has affected my health in a severe way these past few months. From the way he confided in me when he thought he was going to die in hospital, that night he spoke to me while they were still administering the transfusions and such, to his retreat of confiding in me when I asked too many questions about the people in his life that have taken advantage of him and demanded answers that he either does not have the mental capacity to know or is in the stage of complete denial to speak the truth to his remaining living daughter. I don't know. But the thoughts of how I had been told by a few people since my early '20s that I should disown or sever ties with my parents (they are divorced since after my twin died but they are both still the people who made me) but the fact that I should have probably done that very difficult thing of cutting the cords that tie me to them - and it's all just cords, threads of some dying hope of mine that I might have parents that care enough to be the parents they have never been - but the fact is that they are both alcoholics who choose the bottle long before they ever would choose me and that has never changed. I managed to somehow get some of the health issues without getting to have any of the fun. I don't drink or smoke or party or do drugs, save for the anxiety meds I've been prescribed for years that I hate being on but prevent me from being much worse and physically shaking as if that should be normal from the years of trauma - god, it's so unfair. I'm not the fun one and I'm without any close family. And I never even got to do anything wrong. As in, I didn't fuck them over or do something scandalous that affected their lives. Except be born and that I didn't die.

This yearning to want to know them and have them know me. This realization that I keep having every few years that I don't get to have that. I was conscious from a young age that I didn't want to be a burden. That I wanted to be good. That I needed to do certain things that other kids didn't have to do in order to appease them. How many kids had to give their parents several chances to be in their lives? How is that a thing? What a cruel thing to only be wanted when it brought them a check or when they could get something from me or when it didn't make them feel guilt when they had me in their lives as a reminder of how they failed to provide, to not neglect their surviving child. And now, in their later years, without being given the help, guidance, tools or anything to have a footing in life that many parents help their children have - and I don't just mean money, I mean the other ways too - I am now not only in this place of being aware of my inability to be there for them, but the fact that they are choosing not to have me be there, while also not being there for me. How do you bring someone into the world and then abandon them so soon, neglect them, use them as needed, then discard them, damaged? Because they are damaged? It's a gift that I did not have children. That I could not pass on this trauma to them as well. I think it would have sickened me if they had been doting grandparents when they were such awful selfish parents.

And yet I love them. Both of them. I have to stop myself from reaching out to my Mother, knowing she only reached out to me to get my SIN # for her pension, to claim me for years she never raised me. My Dad, he's made it clear. But yet this pull, this connection I have with him that we've always had, it's doing such damage to me to be open to that part of him that may be reaching out subconsciously, through that thread. It's like an echo of a hello through a tin can when it comes to him. It hurts so much.

So I'm returning to ways of things I was taught or learned or was not taught but knew. I'm going to work on the protection field for myself. Putting up a barrier to shield one's self from someone they deeply love is a painful thing to do. But I honestly feel like this could kill me if I don't do that soon. Already, it's been taking so much out of me.

I am shaking as I type this.

I don't want to lose them but I already have. Over and over again. Inevitably, there is only one way this will end. I've cried about this more than once and I'm not someone to do that too easily. But it's at that point. It just feels like this is too much to have on top of the day to day stress.

I'm forty-three years old and still trying to learn how to survive and figure out how to save myself.
Subscribe

  • free guy and books

    Sunday, October 17th, 2021. 11:03pm Tried to make a vlog in the book nook but I'm not sure how that will have turned out. I'll find out when I piece…

  • typing in between racing

    Saturday, October 16th, 2021. 8:52pm How is it already Saturday? Again? Wasn't it just Saturday a week ago? There was a double rainbow earlier…

  • scraping by

    Friday, October 15th, 2021. 9:35pm I was going to end the writing streak tonight. At the pace I am typing, it is definitely going to take me awhile…

  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 0 comments