“Life is not tried it is merely survived if you are standing outside the fire”… Garth Brooks
And when you stand in the fire you get burned.
So I sit here, much like another out there, and write because it’s what I need to do. So young they are those who feel betrayed and alone. I am forty nine and know isolation, betrayal, and fear, guilt, anger that were once just a part of my eating disorder that I ate and threw up. It was easy. It was like everything could just be filled up inside then removed with no pain. No burning. A rather numbing sensation really.
What were all those days for? Those days I gave willingly to be what you wanted me to be? You first, then the next and the next and the next. There is no one now, and I’m not sure there will ever be. You taught me to hate being told what to do. I ate that hate and threw it up, but now I just feel it. I hate that you abused my love, that you used me as a birth vessel, that all that I cared about towards you was for nothing, but…. all that I cared for for the love of you was worth it. Our children. OUR children. However, your controlling nature believes they are but yours. You stole them with money and promises.
All I wanted was a best friend. All I wanted was that when those beautiful gifts grew up happily that they would move on and we would gladly hug them like there was no tomorrow when they came to see us. But more so, we would be enjoying our time together, loving each other and all the things we would do together now that we were once again alone.
I hoped for a fairy tale that was a Grimm’s version in the end. The real Grimm story. Never thus was there a truly happy ending. Only Disney could wish for that. He ruined my life by making me think that things could be simple, not complicated, that there could be a happily ever after.
To you out there with the beautiful knitting, it’s a long journey to love yourself, and even so there are times when you wonder why? What did I do wrong? But you wake up realizing the next day it wasn’t me. I wasn’t alone in this world of weirdness.
I have burned, healed, still have the scars. But now I vow only to ever be bruised. They heal and go away. I don’t want anymore scars.