Feeling Low

Hey, I hope your day has been kind to you. Kinder than I'm being to myself right now. I seem to have lapsed back into a morbid state of mind. One where I scroll through my failures and discard any of my progress in favour of reversion. I like to think of all the things that aren't working in my life and chalk that up to me not being good enough. I don't have enough willpower. I screw up every relationship I'm in. I'm not a presence that will be missed. The list goes on and on. I'm only just realizing that I forgot to take my meds today. I know that this alone didn't bring it on, but an accumulation of already being in a depressive state, mentally vulnerable, and on my period, it creates the perfect storm.

I'm at a low point.

It started off with anger towards the people in my life. My sister who doesn't support me enough. My friendships which are abysmal. The feeling of guilt I get when talking to my mother. I was spiralling. I couldn't think straight, could only feel the rage coursing through my veins. Lashing out at them in my mind, which I suppose is better than when I used to let people have it with my words. Now I just feel empty and alone. It's hit me that there's no person or place in this world that feels like home to me. I'm just here, by myself, trying to muster up the strength to make it through another meaningless day.

When the people around you have things figured out, or at least pretend they do, it's easy to feel like an unmoving burden. You're the part of their day where they look at you and judge your laziness and lack of effort. I can see myself through their eyes. I know what they're thinking about me even if they never say it. Not outright anyway. But through passing comments and sideways glances. Sighs and huffs of frustration at what you've told them is on your agenda for the day. Whenever I'm asked what time I got home from work I feel like I'm on the chopping block for comparison. If I got off earlier than her, then I have no right to complain or feel burnt out or any of it. Because to her, I'm not living in reality. I'm not living meaningfully. To do that I need to go to school and dedicate myself to one career. Not lasting at jobs for a few months then moving onto something more fulfilling or better paying.

None of this matters. It's not good enough. It doesn't fit in with her ideals.

I also feel like I can't talk to her about this. Because I know she would deny it, as she always does when I call out the truth, so I stay in my lane and try to forget her looming presence tainting my happiness. I feel like I take a step forward only to be knocked back by her life and story, more deserving of attention than mine. She will complain and regale her day while I'm trying to focus on creating or writing or reading or researching. I lose focus no matter how hard I try not to be sucked in and enraptured by my empath mind.

It's hard for me to draw a clear line in the sand, take a firm stance on my boundaries. I have stated them clearly before, but they are now being trounced on again. I want to be there for her but I also want room to grow, to expand to my full potential. When more than half of my energy is dependent on the dynamic of our relationship day in and day out, how can I find this stability?

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I feel like I'm reverting to what I used to be so I'm more palatable for her. I can't take up too much space or else I might think that I'm better than her, or something to that delusion. I don't know how I can describe it so you understand. In one way she encourages me, but then it isn't met with respect. In one way she values our relationship, but makes plans that contradict it. I feel like I'm just meant to be sat here waiting for her when she's done with whatever's currently occupying her. I'm her back-up plan if things don't work out, if she doesn't have anyone else to vent to, if she has problems in her relationship. I don't want to be the springboard for her incessant issues. I want to be my own, separate person, two ships passing in the night, that we can rely upon each other but not be dependent.

I want my own space, my own freedom. Please, is it too much to ask? I feel so desperate right now for any form of escape from this. I've already started looking at places to live despite the fact that we still have 6 months left on our lease. I'm just ready for it to be over. By myself, I know that I won't be able to afford living on my own. I will likely have to move back in with my mom, which I honestly don't want to do. While we have a better relationship now, when we spend too much time together, things become tense. At least that's how things used to work. We would fall back into old, unhealthy habits that kept feeding into each other and morphing into something it never should have been.

I'll also feel guilty for burdening her like that. I know that she likely wouldn't refuse because she wants to support me, and I don't want to be taking advantage of that. We still have a few things unresolved between us that I think we need to work out. It weighs on me with every conversation we have.

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When I was a teenager, I didn't treat my mother with respect. I blamed the problems with my father on her and lashed out when I knew I couldn't at him. With my father, I knew from experience that when I stood up for myself, he did everything in his power to dismantle my already crumbling resolve. He would yell and say cruel, untrue words, anything to get me to be docile and obedient. With my mom, I knew that I wouldn't receive such harsh words. While she has had a tendency in the past to revert to a victim mindset, I can't really blame her for it. She was, after all, married to my father for nearly 20 years and had to deal with his constant lies and verbal assault. It's her defense mechanism, which will of course be on guard when I come at her with accusations and my own cruel words.

Even if she wasn't the perfect parent, and I do have some bits of trauma from her, nothing compares to my father. I now see that she was doing her best to combat the rash actions my father made and she was endlessly doing damage control. Yes, she did become overbearing and overprotective, but that was what she felt like she had to do. When your kids come back from your ex's place with tears streaming down their faces and stories of the horrible things he'd done, how else does one react?

I think I'm in a place where I can make peace with this. Forgive her actions that frustrated and vexed me, and move on with clarity and a mind open to change. There was so much going on in her life, divorce, having no job, having no home, getting cancer, taking care of her kids, it's no wonder it was a struggle to balance. She went into a state of stepping up and doing what had to be done, on-edge and bracing herself for what's to come.

I think that she is still somewhat embedded in this way of living. She hasn't fully let her guard down and allowed herself to get away from the teetering edge of anxiety over what's to come. I truly hope that she does. She deserves a happy life filled with all of the things that she loves most. After dealing with the chaos of my father, it's the least she's merited.

And I want to be a factor in her life that will remain steady. I want to support her and listen to her and just be there for her. Make up for lost time when our worlds were jilted away from each other. I want to grow into a person that she can be proud of. I want to be a person that can say I love you back.

That's something I'm working hard on. It's not an easy thing for me to say, casually or otherwise. My father would always force me to say it to him. If I didn't he would get angry so I always did just to appease him. I guess now I look at it as giving up a part of myself just for another person to be happy and satisfied. He would always say, "I love you, you know that?" and I would have to say, "Yes, I do", even though I never felt it. Whether it was through his actions or his words, not once did I feel love behind any of his intentions. So now I'm untrusting and view love as something fleeting and insincere. When I hear those three words I can only think that one day the illusion will dissipate and give way to disaster and cessation.

One day I will. I'm not going to force it, just let time heal my wounds. Let it bring me the strength to provide the assurance that yes, this will be everlasting. No, I will not be disappointed as I have in the past.

I guess the next step is finally talking to her about all of this. It scares me because it's always hard admitting my faults and I don't know how she'll react to what I have to say. But I know that I have to do it, and soon. It takes up so much space in my brain that I just need to let it go in order to move on.

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Little by little I'm starting to let go of these things that have stuck with me from childhood. I know that the ultimate one will be having a conversation with my father, who I haven't talked to for two years. And I don't want to talk to him because I know that he hasn't changed. But maybe it will help me to release some of my pent up frustrations with the whole situation. Stop it from building up in my head and spilling over into daily life.

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For now, I'm working on breaking down old vices and forming healthier habits. Creating a routine that prevents me from sliding down the slope of stagnancy. And of course I have my beloved cat, Oscar, to keep me company throughout. He's really all I need to keep me going. That and the occasional trip to the thrift store.

It's really all about figuring out what works for me. Trial and error, not giving up, pushing through all of the pain and discomfort. I can't lie and tell you that I'm feeling positive for the future, but at least I'm trying. That's all I can do.