A Letter to Those Who Don't Understand
Dear You -
I know I look ok. I understand how you can look at me, see me smile and think that everything is ok. I understand that you want to be rid of the burden of supporting me. I don't blame you for wishing that I'd just get on with it and get back to pushing and driving and taking care of myself so you don't have to anymore. I know how nice it would be if I could help out more and take on my share of the responsibility for our parents. They are aging and that's what we do as the children. We step in and help them muck out their lives so they can retire in leisure. But here I am just sitting around, unable to lift any of that weight while you try to juggle your lives.
I'm different. I'm not like all the rest of you. I didn't walk away from my childhood unscarred. I wasn't able to push it all down and just go about life. I REALLY tried but I'm not built that way. I have thinner skin. My body doesn't work like yours. My experience is not like yours either. You have happy memories and I have pain.
I have spent my entire life trying to run from my pain. I have tried to achieve it away, tried to control it away, tried to normalize it away, tried to appease it away, tried to move away from what triggered it, tried to disconnect from it, tried to badger it, tried to dominate it, tried to meditate it into oblivion, tried to tap it away, tried to presence it away, tried to eat it away and starve it away and surrender it away. I've tried EVERY fucking thing I can think of to get this shit out of my system so that I can be normal just like everyone else and so that I can function in a way that makes everyone else 'comfortable'.
I know I look ok. I understand how you can look at me, see me smile and think that everything is ok. I understand that you want to be rid of the burden of supporting me. I don't blame you for wishing that I'd just get on with it and get back to pushing and driving and taking care of myself so you don't have to anymore. I know how nice it would be if I could help out more and take on my share of the responsibility for our parents. They are aging and that's what we do as the children. We step in and help them muck out their lives so they can retire in leisure. But here I am just sitting around, unable to lift any of that weight while you try to juggle your lives.
I'm different. I'm not like all the rest of you. I didn't walk away from my childhood unscarred. I wasn't able to push it all down and just go about life. I REALLY tried but I'm not built that way. I have thinner skin. My body doesn't work like yours. My experience is not like yours either. You have happy memories and I have pain.
I have spent my entire life trying to run from my pain. I have tried to achieve it away, tried to control it away, tried to normalize it away, tried to appease it away, tried to move away from what triggered it, tried to disconnect from it, tried to badger it, tried to dominate it, tried to meditate it into oblivion, tried to tap it away, tried to presence it away, tried to eat it away and starve it away and surrender it away. I've tried EVERY fucking thing I can think of to get this shit out of my system so that I can be normal just like everyone else and so that I can function in a way that makes everyone else 'comfortable'.
Comments
Post a Comment