Feeling quite introspective tonight. Had therapy earlier. I always have a hard time sleeping after therapy. I feel like I just have too much on my mind to go to sleep.
I’m having some revelations about my past. About my traumas, about my family, about my life… Realizing that perhaps my parents aren’t to blame in quite the same way I thought they were. Nothing is really that simple is it.
I was so naive. I was so young. I didn’t realize the things that were being done to me. I didn’t know they were bad, that they weren’t okay. All I knew is that something was wrong. And no one else seemed to notice. I have to stop blaming everyone else. Did people abuse me and take advantage of me? Yes. Are my parents completely to blame? Perhaps partly. But they didn’t know. They weren’t the ones abusing me. They knew I was having a hard time. They didn’t know why.
What do I do with all this? I want to climb a mountain and scream. Scream what? I don’t even know. But something.
All I’ve wanted my whole life is to be understood. I’ve never felt that anyone did understand me. Or at least not in the way I wanted to be understood… Perhaps I’m starting to feel this even just the smallest bit with my therapist. That perhaps someone finally understands. Or at least wants to understand. Is willing to hear my side of the story. To listen. Because that’s what’s truly important isn’t it? For someone to hear your side of the story? To not judge you. To not make assumptions. To still care about you despite all the shit you’ve told them about yourself?
I wish it were raining right now. That would fit just about right with how I’m feeling. Rain holds so many important symbols for me. And yet I live somewhere where it hardly ever rains. Go figure…
I’ve always made everything about everyone else. Why have I done that? When the reality is that it was never about anyone else. Ever. What do I do with that information?
God I wish it was raining. And I wish I had more wine. That would work out well just about now. I also wish I could put the world on hold for a little while while I try to process all of this.
Nobody is to blame.
My life is my life, no one else’s. And my life is sacred. I just wish someone could look into my mind once in a while. Then perhaps they could really understand. Because without being you, how can anyone ever really understand?
I’m feeling alone I suppose. But not in the catastrophic way that it usually is when I feel alone. This feels… quieter somehow. But also more tragic.
I long for so many things. So many that I know I don’t even know them all. I long for peace. I long for understanding. I long for restfulness, something I’m not sure I’ve ever truly experienced.