Diary of an unhinged mind
From the outside I have a wonderful support network of family. From my point of view I feel controlled by the amount of help I am given. My parents (as lucky as I am) make me feel like I am still a child, unable to manage my own life.
They are generous with gifts and money, but often it has come back to make me feel guilty. How can I possibly be upset with all of the things they give me. Look at all of the things we do for you.
They are interstate and yesterday I wore clothes that I wouldn’t wear if they were here. I could possibly run into them somewhere under ordinary circumstances.
I worry about what I wear. I worry about justifying how I fill my time. What I eat, who I love.
Mother said to me recently at your age you should be with someone for money. I stood aghast. Shamed that I had fallen in love with someone because of how they made me feel. I don’t feel unending support like you should from parents.
My biological father is long estranged.
We talk now. It took many years to come back into my life.
I like it. It’s like he’s not there to judge or dictate, just bounce things off. I haven’t actually spoken to him – so the words on my screen are kind of non-existent. It often doesn’t seem like a real person, it’s an outlet for me. It was another reason I have had issues growing up. Especially as a woman having her own child, why would my Father not want to be in my life. What have I done? Why am I so awful?
My husband said it was my fault. My fault he cheated. I am still unsure why. It was never discussed again. I think there were times I was critical, but I never felt like I could actually say how I felt. I often felt alone, ignored. One night I tried to bring up how I felt because he was out drinking late with his work colleagues (or so he said), he ran off drunk threatening to kill himself again, then he didn’t answer his phone. I ran the streets that night, worried for the worst. I found him in a park near midnight. Each time I had to forget what I had been feeling. I fought really hard for us.
He was hospitalised for a length of time where things looked like it would change. He could breathe and I saw the man I knew. They told him to stop drinking and he should be ok. He chose not to stop drinking.
Shortly after I found out about his lengthy affair I went away to stay with my parents. It was kind of a make or break situation. I didn’t know how things would turn out. He once again threatened to kill himself and I had to frantically call a neighbour to check on him. He had a kitchen knife, but had a panic attack – so couldn’t do anything.
These memories are still so vivid.
They say trauma changed your brain.
When I was date-raped I feel like I let myself down. I was so eager for attention when I was younger. I had never had a boyfriend. This man wasn’t my type. My gut told me not to, but what did my gut know being so inexperienced?
We had been trying to go on a date for some time, and things kept coming up.
I was out with a friend and I was getting drunk. He came to meet me, and his apartment was a block away.
I went back to his place, some details are still a blur, but we’re talking 15 years or so. I didn’t want to drink, but I suddenly felt a knot in my stomach - I knew I shouldn’t be there. I wasn’t even really sure where I was.
He gave me a shot of something, I am not sure if it was drugged, but shortly after I remember going to lie down. I remember Victoria’s Secret stockings. I think he sprayed me with perfume.
At one point I was tied up. I couldn’t move. I was screaming inside my head, but I couldn’t do anything.
The next day I could barely move, every joint and muscle hurt.
He tried again the next morning but I fought him off.
I never spoke to him again. I spent years blaming myself for being in that position. I never went to the police because I put myself in that position. I chose to be there, I chose to drink.
I always wanted someone to save me. I remember praying inside my head for a friend that lives a few blocks away to come and rescue me. I knew it could not happen – but ever since I have been waiting for someone to rescue me from myself.
Some nights it still gets dark.
One night with P I had flashbacks, and I cried. He was mortified and so was I. It was a sudden fear of being in danger, not knowing what I was doing. P was there, he held me, talked to me and got me through. There are still some days when I feel an internal shift inside of me that I want to be treated gently, carefully, like I am glass.
When we first met I like how passionate it was. We wanted each other so quickly and entirely. As I trust him, as I feel open with my heart and soul I feel I am unable to tolerate it the same way. I fantasize about slow dancing and gentle kisses.
I feel like I have never been in love until now, I have never felt synched.
We do speak each other’s thoughts. We are opposite, but ideally complimentary.
My limited history with men is comical and tragic.
My first was a married man, I didn’t know he was married – he never said. I also never asked.
It was a few years of back and forth. Hours of talking, but no real words. We were bonded by music and nightlife.
The second man I thought was going to be the one to save me was a swinger. He lived with his long-term girlfriend, but introduced her as his personal assistant. Once again I didn’t realise the situation until much later. We had wild, passionate nights. One night he told me he would give it all up because we were different. He had no recollection of that after the party drugs wore off.
Then the assault, then B. He was the one I met on holidays. We had a very quick, intense connection. I came back home and he came to have a holiday – but we were strangers. To this day I never understood it. I was truly broken, wishing for that great love. He ghosted me overseas and that was it. It took me years to recover. I started a psychologist for a couple of sessions to feel some self-worth. I started anti-depressants. I met a guy who briefly used me, and again it was a fleeting what if this is it/no definitely not it experience.
I met my husband and he was the opposite of every man I had met. Young, sweet. I thought there was no way he would hurt me. Physically he wasn’t what I had been attracted to either. We were best friends. Same sense of humour, same sense of playful adventure.
My mum said it will never last and I held onto that. That repeated in my mind. We were together a few years before getting married, and a few more years before having our daughter. Little did I know was that I didn’t know this man at all.
Like not at all.
I still shake my head. I was so blind obviously to want to feel a sense of stability and home.
About the Creator
Dreams of writing fill my waking mind.
Trying to stay above the words because I could easily drown.
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