Tough Love

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There’s always those few that just never understand. Don’t get me wrong, I do appreciate that I now have very two blunt, straightforward people in my life, who I like to understand as having tough love but…they always just know how to make you tick.

The two lovely people are my sister and psychiatrist, whose name is very long and hard to pronounce. For the past week I was fine, in fact almost happy and thought that I was finally getting better from my depression. Then last night something caused me to just explode that made me throw plates and glass cups all around the small room I was in and once again I was back into that isolated state. I was sleeping during the day , not at night and not eating once again. However my therapist called me today, forcing me to wake up from my deep slumber to come to the appointment we had scheduled today.

Even though I had missed my psychiatrist appointment earlier that day at the same place, she said to not worry about it and to come anyway. I suppressed my frustration and got out of my bed to go meet her. When I got there, talking to her made me feel better however then she said she wouldn’t be able to meet after next week for two weeks because she was going on vacation. Not that I minded but when the program director who was in charge of this branch, read my folder she had moved me out of nowhere from my old therapist to my current therapist. So, I was already having a hard time adjusting and once again I had to report to a different person for two weeks made me feel more than uncomfortable, feeling like an irrelevant ping pong being thrown from one place to another.

Already I wasn’t feeling so great, so when they squeezed me between two appointments to meet my very beloved blunt, white conservative psychiatrist, I was of course very happy…

Of all days, he chose to pick today to be exceptionally harsh and blunt, which he admitted to. I don’t hate him. I mean having someone like him in one’s life is often necessary but when he said if I was being offended by anything he was saying I responded that I’d dealt my whole life with my sister whose an exact copy, say much harsher things so no…I was no where near offended.

The only thing our meeting made me realize that its true, only people that experience a certain situation will only be able to fully understand it. For my ups and downs recently, he assumed that I was staying at home and not going to school was to get back at my parents.

I guess that was the thing that really pushed me off the edge. I mean my father is already angry 24 hours a day, why would I want to make him more angry? For my mother, she’s 4’11 (a midget) who only makes me honestly feel sympathy for her majority of the time for all of the things she has to deal with. To hear him say that was as if hearing that there was nothing really going on with me. Hearing him saying that I was self sabotaging myself even though I’m so pretty and smart and have everything going for me was as if someone was saying all the people that hurt me in my life were a figment of my imagination.

Do you think I want to think that I’m a failure in life and ugly beyond words? Do you think I want to lack confidence? Do you think I want to be scared of going to school? Of course, it was me who had asked to be bullied for seven years that completely destroyed who I could have been. I was that young kid who didn’t care she was different and was so confident of herself. I was excited for my future and genuinely happy. But I mean, do they really expect me to be like how I was after daily let downs of people telling me I look disgusting, accusations of cheating, and isolation from anything that would have made me a normal kid. Then, I would go home to hear the constant fighting of my parents and my mothers and sisters unbelievable expectations to sleep with. I was constantly reminded that how I did would determine if I could get away from the horrible nightmare of what you would call a home. My grades would be my only escape or else my father would marry me off young to one of my cousins from his households.

I was terrified and to hear that me breaking down, in the end was to get back at my parents made me feel…lost. How I wish that were the reason, then it would be so much more simpler. But no, it isn’t.

It’s my own demons. Fear of people. What they can do to me. They can take the essence of who I am and my happiness away from me. I’m scared to face reality where my daydreams were the only things keeping me sane my whole life. They showed a world where good relationships existed. A place where people didn’t go after one another, or hurt one another.

More than anyone, I want to move on and live the life everyone tells me will be beautiful because of all the things I have going for me. However, those very people show the vile scenes behind the curtains of my own kindred pushing each other over for competitions I want nothing with, people wishing badly of me, and whispers of more evils.

I want to love myself, be confident, and be happy more than anything, but every single time I try…they appear as obstacles and move on with their life leaving their words to haunt me later.

I love my sister. I respect my psychiatrist. However, what I don’t need right now is there tough love. I’m starting to move on from the negative people in my life. However, I can’t move on from myself. The immense pressure I gave myself, more than anyone else in my life. My own tough love I forced upon myself is already destroying me, I don’t need yours to push me down further. For once I want warm words, supportive words, and caring ones. If you can’t at least do that, then don’t say anything. Stay silent and at least let me be happy because for the first time in ages when I felt happy a week ago, I won’t forget your harsh words sister that made me want to fall back into that black hole, that I began climbing out, to hide in.

If you can’t give me the warmth of your sunlight to walk in like I gave you mine as a safety net to fall in whenever you needed it, then don’t come at all because the darkness you bring with you makes me fear you more. You show that I truly can’t have any hope for the world…so I should just give up and let go…falling far beyond recovery.

 

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3 comments

  1. Wow. That was not an easy read and yet so many parts felt familiar, like an old jumper from the back of the closet.
    I wish I had words that could help you, words to help guide you back out of that hole, yet, despite having depression myself, I cannot find them.

    I know I am nothing more to you than a stranger on the internet who happened to stumble across your blog (I think we may even live in different time zones, but I cannot be sure), but I like to think the words I have to offer others are warm and loving, (for the most part at least), and I would like you to know, that if you were to ever need them, I am here and ready to give them.

    No one deserves to feel so lost within the darkness. And if we are not alone then perhaps, as impossible as it may sound, perhaps together we may find light again.

    Liked by 1 person


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