Daring To Be Negative

A big problem I face is having to soften up my words to make myself digestible to others. When honestly I have no capacity to be anything but authentic even if it stings.

A girl from that support group I dropped reached out to see if I need anything and wanted to connect on zoom. I said that's nice to hear, but that my problems are beyond anyone's help. I'm well aware of this, which is why I prefer to be alone. It's a necessity honestly. I knew it would be one day especially when people started finding out about the monster within.

I don't really talk on Facebook anymore through posts. No one will celebrate my posts about how I'm actually feeling. I don't bother anymore. No one will understand anyway, so they don't deserve to know.

No one sees what I see, and I just wonder still if I'm crazy. But I know I'm not. I've just had to face things most won't ever face. Many aren't disabled to the point of lying on their death bed in their narcissistic mom's home. People think I'm just lazy when actually I'm playing the game strategically.

I know I'm sick beyond words. All I've been doing is lying here all day. It is one of those phases where even sitting up to open my eyes feels like the hardest thing in the world. I don't mind resting, and I'm not apologizing for it. I need all the rest in the world. It's honestly nice having just a few friends that get my pain and introverted too and don't mind not talking for days.

Unlike many people, I don't wish to apologize for talking about my negative emotions. I won't sweep them under the rug for anyone. I think that's what people can dislike about me- I'm perceived as too negative. But I don't see myself this way.

I see myself as actually a very positive person who no longer tries to change her experience. I recognize what didn't work with me- positive affirmations and positive reframing. When I allowed myself to just be, that's when things shifted. I recognize that I've been gaslit and victim blamed to the point where what actually helped was recognizing that this pain goes very deep in society, and that there are things society won't admit to.

There is no help for people like me. Abuse shelters are a no. I'm too disabled to do chores. Independent living and group homes would be worse than living at my mother's for many reasons. All I have are my stories and hoping it goes somewhere.

But I don't.

I don't wish to look at them right now. Because I don't want to face a potential truth. That all this romance in the story may be is fantasy. I was only loved for the facade I put on high school when I was more digestible to deal with. Diana in the story is 18 years old. I guess I'm representing a time I'll never really go back to.

I believe in love in glimpses, but I trust that only I can deal with my own problems. I give up on dating. I just want to be alone.

I went to the hospital to visit my mentally ill and physically ill sister who kept me begging me to stay a little bit longer until I was too tired and had to leave.

I guess we both probably resent it- the fact that time is limited for us, and that the world cannot hold our kind of pain.

I love my friends for the fact that I can be negative as much as I want unapologetically.

I have a different approach to life altogether.

Be free to be you. Even with the fears, even with the scars, even with all these wounds.

All I kept thinking was that I have treated my sister similarly to how Josh treated me when he left me for my mental illness. I know how hard it is to really be there when you just want to be free from the neediness. I honestly don't how to be there myself.

I couldn't handle Josh, and he couldn't handle me.

All I can handle right now is lying in bed, just resting and remembering.

Whether people like it or find it an inconvenience, I'm here.

And I'm gonna letting it all out without blaming myself anymore.