Friday, November 11, 2016

I HAVE FINALLY FIGURED IT OUT

You see...when you lose soeone, you are supposed to have time to grieve.  Me, however, I never had that chance...I had to continue and try to maintain some sense of normal..  I had to continue in school, I had to fight for a place to live...I had to survive.

So, for the past year and a half, I've been in survival mode...and not too many people realize that.  They expected me to be OK, but guess what...I'M NOT!!!

It is a daily struggle to wake up and know that I wasn't good enough to be a wife, that I wans't worth the time it took to say "f*** you, I don't want to be with you anymore"...and yet all this time, I haven't been able to grieve.

When I lost Emily, I pretended like everything was OK, that I didn't just lose my only daughter...I tried to go on, and it almost killed me...LITERALLY. 

Then, June 2015 I came home to my current nightmare.  While trying to continue school, and pretend that everything is OK, my life has been falling apart.  You can't build a house on quicksand and expect it to not sink.  The same is true for a person whose heart and soul have been shartered.  I was too busy trying to pretend nothing was wrong that I lost myself.  

My security was stolen, my trust was shattered and my sense of safety was thrown out the window.  What was left?  My faith?  I'm holding on to that by a thread.

And, during this whole time I've not had one person say "It's going to be OK Marci, please just cry on my shoulder"...NOT ONE!

See, inside every adult there is still this little child that wants to be held when they're hurting and scared, and I've lived the past year and a half scared to death.

I haven't had the time to crawl under the table and get my bearings...I haven't had the time to mourn anything.  I've just had to survive...and a person can only live in survival mode for so long before they crack...and guess what??? I'm there!

NO, IT'S NOT THE STRESS OF TAKING 15 HOURS, OR BEING TOO INVOLVED...THAT IS WHAT HAS KEPT ME SANE...I've been too busy to think about what I've lost, and believe me it's a lot more than you think.  When you have a parent that chases you down the block with a butcher knife, you have to take a little extra time to find your safe spot...if you even have one.  I had one, or so I thought...however, I haven't been able to get back there since my life fell apart.  I've had to pretend to be strong because others were counting on me...others were looking up at me....never realizing that that pillar that I was standing on had cracks everywhere and it was only a matter of time before it crashed down.  And yet, when it does crash, I'm still expected to go on like nothing is happening.  

There are very few people that really KNOW me.  I've been guarded most of my adult life because of what happened to me as a child.  When you grow up in an abused house, you have no safety anywhere.  For me, it was always crawling under a table or a desk...some place where I could fit and feel secure.  

Not once have I had a person just sit with me and let me cry and grieve for all that I've lost this past year and a half...

NOT.
ONE.
TIME.
NEVER.

And maybe it's asking too much of people...maybe its too much for me to say, "look, I lost everything that was my security...please, just let me cry it out, let me be that little girl that needa a shoulder,"

And so, in being expected to just go on with things, I've lashed out...at friends that didn't deserve it.  At people that I've admired, and mentors...

Please, just let me cry it out...please, don't tell me it will be OK because it's not OK...everything is a mess and I would rather you be honest with me than expect me to go on as if my life didn't just come crashing down.  

So, if you see me and I say I'm fine, know that I'm not fine.
I've lost everything that meant anything close to "safe" and by saying I'm fine, I'm really saying, please, I just want a shoulder or a friend.

Let me rebuild, but first I have to grieve...and I haven't been able to grieve yet...so I am a big pile of mess that looks like everything is OK...when it's not.\

I miss my husband, yes he assaulted me, but that doesn't make me love him less...it just means that he needs help. So, even though he's not dead, it seems like it because the person I fell in love with is gone..  And, I'm still grieving for that man.