my heart hurts

I woke up at 3am this morning, haunted by a fear that my whole life has just been about recycling, that when I thought I was pursuing my dreams in the world I wasn’t.  I was just repeating the same self-destructive behaviour in as many ways as I could.

I thought, am I actually just a crazy, insane woman totally out of touch with the world, with reality?

It was a long time before I was able to find something to hold onto.  It was painful.  I wanted to read, to distract myself, to switch off the savage criticism.  But I couldn’t.  My mind shifted back to that fox cub being so unprotected, being forced into a situation which terrified it.

I still feel like that sometimes.  Right now I’m really scared.  When I was younger, I didn’t know that time would ever run out.  Now I know it will.  Now I can look back on all the times I’ve tried to heal, all the times I’ve tried to escape from my inner crucifixion.  All the times I wasn’t able to, and ended up piling up one horrendous experience after another.

I lay in bed seeing how frantically I’ve tried all my life to pretend that I was okay.  But I wasn’t.  I was unsocialised, I was ignorant, my intellect was shut down, my creativity in hiding.  I didn’t know, as a child, that I was heading, as sure as the sun rises and sets every day, towards disaster.  When I left school I thought I could leave it all behind.

I was just running scared.  I’ll do anything to avoid feeling the reality of my childhood experience.  I chased my dreams to be a musician, a writer, an artist – even to have a happy marriage.   I tried hard.  But time and time again I got smacked down.  You fucking idiot, who do you think you are?  I’d pick myself up again and try again.

Times I stole money, food, books, clothing.  This morning I saw how I’ve acknowledged that period of my life and the crimes I committed, and that I’m not proud of, that I truly, deeply regret it, and that I wish I’d done things differently.  But I’ve only acknowledged it in a kind of intellectual way, as if it wasn’t really me that did all those things.

But it was me.  I wish I’d been one of the women who grew up straight, who worked hard at school, who was loved and cherished, who went out into the world confident.  But I wasn’t.   I was lost.

I didn’t get back to sleep and eventually the sun came up.  I’m going to have breakfast now.  My heart hurts.  I mean physically, it’s sore.


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