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.