Today I was exploring the edges of my memories and one thing kept coming up. How am I going to sit with Patrica’s family knowing that they ignored my pleas for help as they were teaching me how to stand on my own two feet?
Then I examined what was actually happening with radical acceptance of reality.
They don’t seem to see me, why?
I try to keep telling them I’m hurting. By telling them that I can’t speak but nothing changes
The answer was very simple because I haven’t been telling them what’s happening
So I told Patricia the absolute truth, today I have been exploring talking to Ros (my sister-in-law) about how (from my perspective) she has tortured me and I was just trying to survive. I even imagine her being cold (like the family has done to whip me into shape) if I reach out for love I’m refused it. Now before you clutch your pearls, that’s how Patricia and Ros got past their child hood trauma. By being fucking badass and unrelentingly diligent in setting their boundaries as strong black women have always done during terrible times. So of course I needed the same thing that’s all they knew.
I can see that Ros loves me but each time I have this thought experiment it always ends the same
With me dying on the floor after cutting my throat in a grand gesture to show once and for all how sad I am.
I have no idea how to get past this but running from it seems like the only viable option.