The universe hates me.


June 23, 2021 :: 7:08 PM

How have you hurt me? Let me count the ways…

So… that was randomly fitting. Not amused that it showed up today, though.

Yesterday, I was talking to a coworker about a coworker that left. Former coworker once told me that I wasn’t as tough as I thought I was.

I never told him that the scar between my eyebrows is from a cigarette. I was five or six when my mother chose to use my forehead as an ashtray.

But. Yeah.

Just because I don’t talk about all those “that which doesn’t kill me, makes me stronger” moments, doesn’t mean I don’t have them.

Back to the scar through, because that was the trigger.

Current coworker said that he’d be willing to go back and fix his mistakes. I said I wouldn’t change a fucking thing.

When he asked why, I didn’t really have an answer.

I just wouldn’t.

All the shit I went through - the chance to fix things - to have my father live longer - all of it… nope. Wouldn’t change a goddamn thing.

(Which makes me question my mental health, but that’s nothing new.)

There’s no way I’d trade my scars for better ones

Yeah.

I had this dream last night about my mother. I NEVER dream about her. When I dream about family it’s always my father… and it’s always the nightmare of finding him dead in his apartment.

I can’t even remember all the details, but it was upsetting.

LIKE SUPER UPSETTING.

I am obviously not as tough as I think I am if that dream rocked my world… and not in a good way.

Other than the dad-mares, I’e never woken up crying before.

I was back to being young me, pre-divorce, pre-death…

I’ve been lost and I’ve been sinking / Broken, coming back together / I’ve been stalling, slipping, falling…

Fuck, dude. You have no idea.

She fucking broke me and I relieved some of her greatest hits (yup, I went there) last night.

It took moving out and her dying before I could finally start to heal.

I’ve been lost and I’ve been broken / Finally coming back together

I’ve never been suicidal, but I’ve gone to dark, dangerous, places. She sent me there. Often.

I don’t wanna be afraid of my thoughts / I don’t wanna be scared of my shadow

It’s taken a lot of work to put her behind me… but, of course, I’m not free of her. I doubt I’ll ever be.

The part that I always come back to, the part that I can’t shake, is who my mother was before she became a monster.

She graduated from UConn with a degree in something like Home Ec - child development or some such nonsense.

She was a social worker.

A perfect PTA mom.

Everybody looks for love where it’s not // Everybody wants to know they matter

I don’t think I was ever truly loved.

I don’t think I ever mattered.

The pull of the bottle was stronger than the pull of her only child.

Sooooooooooo…

I’m already in this stupid bad headspace because of the fucking dream and my iPhone decides to play this during my commute.

 

I better dream of fucking puppies and unicorns tonight.