The ground has given to the weight upon me. The weight that is me. So much wine flowing through my veins my very presents opens a fault line under my achey toes. I bear down, but the earth just crumbles to sand as I desperately try to keep my head from being buried beneath the rubble. The destruction and chaos that myself alone am responsible for. I am the driver of the vessel that barrels through the crowd of people, losing control, losing myself and taking everyone down in the process. I’m not a nice person. At least not if you are close to me. Or as close as you let me. If i love you, i will shut you out. I will pick fights with you because you have gotten to me. You have me at a point that I am no longer in control. You CAN hurt me. And you will. But the only one to blame is me. I’m shutting you out because you don’t understand me
Nobody does. I should be alone, but I can’t be alone. I don’t want to hurt. I don’t want to freak out. I don’t want to be crazy.
But I am. I’m fucking nuts.
If I can’t find something, i scream, i cry, i punch walls, doors, if i could get by with it, I’d punch myself. I’m no picnic. I’m the eye of the hurricane. I’m the olive sky before a tornado. I’m the brilliant lights of lightning as it strikes your dwelling. I’m the girl that wants to be better; wants to do better, wants to be good enough and not like my head and heart are tangled and and ripping eachother apart. like my whole life is ending everytime there is a bump in the pavement, a crack in the sidewalk or a pebble in my shoe. Someone help me. pllease god…help me. I’m defective. I’m destructive, my pain is contagious. I leave all I touch writhing in agony. My tears are as acidic as the phrases that dance off the tip of my tongue. My pretty mouth will frame words that will paint everything as red as my lipstick. My hands are cold and tremble, and will freeze one to the core. Hearts freeze and shatter like mine did. I’m contagious.
I lay in bed, with my stomach turning and my heart sinking deeper into my the deepest pit of my stomach wondering why. Why don’t you believe in me? what is it about me that makes me so unworthy of your trust? I wonder why you don’t seem to care how I’m feeling. My soul is dying, and you don’t even seem to notice the flicker of fire that once danced in my eyes is now just cinder. when you’re away, sometimes I just need a person to talk to. Someone to distract me from the loathing i feel sweep over me when I look in the mirror. All of the broken pieces of myself at your feet, but instead of helping me scoop it up and put me back together, you just swept those pieces under the rug. I keep moving forward, wounded, hoping you’ll slow down and recognize that I’m bleeding. I wait for you to ask me if I’m okay, but instead, you point out my flaws, those missing pieces and imperfections.
You don’t understand nor do you want to. I just want you to care if whether or not I’m okay. But most of all, I just want to BE okay.
The tiny Fragments lay down at My aching feet that scramble. My vacant chest holds nothing but panic. There are no words or phrases that can Express what I’m feeling right now.
I’m struck with grief, guilt and regret. I’m failing. A thousand reasons to give up, but I can’t. I’m a mother. My feelings are null. A dirty girl searching for an answer, a steady hand to hold and a single night’s sleep. Begging to be understood.
It’s been over 6 months but my heart still aches everyday. Your birthday is coming up. I think about all of the birthdays we celebrated together. Posts, pictures, memories…
I am wondering if this ache will ever fade. I wonder if I’ll always be fighting back the tears. If I’ll always feel this way. Like I’ve lost a piece of myself.
I flip through the pictures. I keep them in my phone. In a way, I don’t want the pain to fade because I never want to forget just how important you are to me, and the world.
For your birthday, I will make a promise. You will never be forgotten. Your pictures will remain within reach and on my mirror to remind me how important you will remain. Just because I can’t call you, I still hear your voice. Sometimes, I hear music. I know it’s you. I feel it. Thank you for being here for me even though I can’t feel your warm hugs, I still feel the love. I love you.
Affiliation and impersonation, consolation and determination lead to unification
Manipulation disguised as adoration then fertilization and insemination.
Realization followed by termination in with justification in fear of deformation.
Now deviation, defamation, consolidation, revocation. Humiliation. Mortification.
Regret and devastation.
Say what you want about me, but the moment someone says something about my son, I will lose my shit. My son has autism. Although he is making major strides in therapy, He is considered non-verbal. He does things that most kids do, bites off more than he can chew, literally, which is something he did this evening.
Before i get to the point of this story, i want to share that my child is brilliant. At least he is to me. I’ve witnessed this child do things well beyond his years, and signs of extreme intelligence. I’ve watched him compose music on a keyboard, sing complicated songs and riffs at as young as 18 months, at 11 months and was almost potty trained as well… my son is different, but not less. He’s important and amazing. Just because it seems like he isn’t hearing what your saying, doesn’t mean he’s not listening. He is. He knows when people are talking about him. He knows he’s different and doesn’t need people, especially adults whom he trusts, to point these things out which is precisely what happened tonight.
We’re sitting in the living room having dinner. (Not our usual routine, but on occasion, we will) i made my son a corn dog and sliced it up into bite sized pieces. (I’m not certain if his father didn’t feed him as recently as he had claimed, but my son looked and said “eat” the second i had him in my arms.)
And immediately my son started shoveling pieces into his mouth. I guess one was a bit bigger because he was trying to swallow, and he gagged, then chewed a couple times tried to swallow again and gagged. At that point, a needless, senseless, insensitive comment was thrown out there by another adult in the room. “Now i don’t understand, why you say he’s so smart, why would he do that? ” i tell the person that the comment hurt my feelings and i get accused of being overly sensitive. Then it keeps on coming. “You say he’s brilliant, he’s just another kid”
Fuck you. You’ve known him for 6 months. I’ve known him for 6 years. His entire life. You’re nothing special. You have good qualities, but this particular flaw of inadvertently tearing those around you down for no good reason is going to be the death of ‘us’.
Just because you have a thought, doesn’t mean you have to share it. There is something called tact. A skill you’re in dire need of aquiring. Insulting people isn’t going to change their opinions. You can’t force an idea. Being the mother of a child with autism comes with enough challenges and emotional turmoil. I don’t need a loved one to lasso me every time i hey to the top on the wall only to yank me down into the mud. You insult my son, there will be hell to pay.
You know when someone hurts you, over and over, and like a doormat, you lie there while they wipe the shit off their shoes into the fibers of your soul, and yet, you still just crave their acceptance and approval? You think about them all the time. They reject you, pull you back in, throw you back out, and on and on it goes.
I haven’t spoken to the one whom played this obdurate charade upon my heart in months. Sure…it was difficult to endure the deafening silence…But I’m okay! I’m just fine! I’m breathing. I’m laughing and smiling…I’m living. I’m really living.
Sure,I think about him from time to time, how supposedly he’s married to a 17 year old, but now, I’m no longer ambivalent. I’m no longer baffled and befuddled.
Im no longer flummoxed and flustered, perplexed and perturbed. At least not about him. But most of all, no longer in a timorous state of self loathing. I wish him the best. I’m no longer angry.
After being single…I mean REALLY single, without him calling me everyday making me feel guilty for ever leaving my home, and seeing what my options really were… they’re amazing, impressive, intelligent and beautiful men that wanted to be with me…I realized, I can do better. And I have. I have a boyfriend now…will it last? Who knows. But I’m enjoying him. He’s a wonderful man. He calms me. Makes me laugh. and I love spending time with him. The best part…He is just as interested in my son as I am. He pays attention to the therapists, implementing everything they say and do into his interaction with him, he cares. I don’t know if I love him. I know he loves me, because he tells me every day. I’m finally being treated how I deserve. I’m happy and so grateful.