Brand new.
Brand new.
I have been able to spend some time in quiet refletion. Some time. A little time. Not enough time. I am thakful for the time I have had.
Life is convoluted still, but not as much. I have cried and thought; thought and cried. I am positive that I can make a way out of this dense fog. How, I don’t know. But I will.
I am so profoundly saddened and blue. I have been here more than once before, but right now, it feels as though this is the worst it has ever been. I think I stopped dreaming when my mother told me that she should have aborted me when she had the chance. I was somewhere around five or six. I wish she would have too.
No one knows this about me. The sorrow, the pain.
In fact, I am usually the one railing against the propensity of women who look like me to stop being that super duper woman. I tell them that they need to fall back and re-think what they do and why.
No one has any idea.
I have been working through my shit since before I knew how to multiply. I think that’s the first time I tried to kill myself. I was nine. It’s still not acknowledged; only known as the incident.
My days are spent trying to empower others, while I am deeply, painfully powerless. Or at least I feel that way.
I eschew the victim mentality, but I, a brilliant (or so I’ve been told), woman of color feel as if everything is stewing inside of me, ready to explode.
By the time I was eighteen, I’d been visciously beaten (still have the marks), mentally abused, and raped. In turn, throught my teens and twenties, I did some very horrible things to people who did not deserve it. I lied, cheated, and stole. I took advantage of some very wonderful people and allowed myself to be used.
I am so so sorry. I am sorry for stealing money out of her purse instead of asking to borrow money to get back home. She would have given it to me if I had only asked. I am sorry for lying to countless “friends” in order to get an ounce of pity or feel superior.
It’s been almost 20 years and I still have no closure.
I am an adult, married with a child and still feel incapable and unworthy they way I was told by my mother. I can still hear her tell me that I am stupid, fat and ugly. I’ve been trying to get over it for almost 30 years. Instead, I sabotage myself over and over again. After all of that, I am still seeking my mother’s approval.
After dropping out of college, going back and completing my studies and getting a Master’s degree, I still feel like a piece of shit.
I know that so much more is meant for my life, but everything seems to come down on me all of the time.
I’ve had so many chances to shine, but each and every time I retreat into myself. I’m not even sure that I know who I am.
To everyone I ever hurt, I am so so sorry. I don’t expect anyone to forgive me, but please know that I am so very sorry.
