Grieving two dead parents within 6 months is hard. Having to make the decision to place my son into a residential treatment for both Autism and trauma was hard.  Already having a lifelong battle of depression and anxiety exacerbates these already difficult life stressors.

Some blogger came on here and left a reply telling me to grow up and stop whining.   Telling me I was disrespecting my mom? Look, stranger with no moniker, you don’t know me and you will never know my mom! She would have shredded you with her expansive vernacular.  This made me want to choke them out with my bare hands, come up here on my blog and tell me I’m whining?   God, help them if they come over here in person and disrespect me like that to my face.  Oh yes, I have a temper! Then I just wanted to cry.  Cry for the beautiful mother I lost.  Cry for the mean person that attacks a person who already is suffering.  That is the devil’s work.   Then a few days later, I withdrew.  Depression breeds isolation.

I begin to feel like I have leprosy.   Everything I touch turns to shit.  I feel so lonely there is just an ache in my chest.  I miss human touch.  I miss talking with people.  And….I feel so unworthy that I punish myself by isolation and perpetuate this cycle of staying right where I am.

My belief system which is long-standing, reflexive, and well-ingrained goes something like this,” you suck and will never amount to anything.  If anyone does think anything of you it’s because they don’t really know the real you and once they do, they will run.”  So I figure it’s best to stay behind walls, or veneers and personae.   My belief system is like a prison compromised of impenetrable internal bars.

But every so often the desire for human contact, the longing to be cared about is so strong, that it supersedes my indoctrination and my belief system.

In essence, some part of me breaks free for a time from “the machine’ and runs feral.   I suppose if the timing was well played, if another collided with me while I was “out” running feral, then I suppose.   Well I suppose.  I suppose I … well I don’t know what would happen.   It’s yet never happened.

I do wonder about it.  It’s on my mind a lot lately.   Maybe a prison break is possible.

About Lexicon Lover

Read all about my journey (and musings) of recovery from both complex childhood trauma and incest, it’s manifestation in my adult life through maladaptive behaviors like BDSM, self-injury, eating disorder, substance abuse and toxic relationships; one with whom was a Narcissistic Sociopath. View all posts by Lexicon Lover

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