I’m writing this for me and me alone.

I’m writing this for me and me alone.

So Robot’s erroneous departure has affected me more deeply than I ever could have imagined.

It was a deeply religious crush, a meaningful friendship.

Everything occurred at a particularly eventful time in my life.

It would make more sense if I had been abused as a child, or suffered some sort of trauma. But I wasn’t and I didn’t, at least not anything that I could imagine would evoke this strong a reaction from me, when this particular set of circumstances were played out.

Neglect.

Everything happened all at once with regard to what you might consider catastrophes / unsettlements in my life. Onset of severe illness. Job loss (although my choice to leave, it was necessary, and crushing loss of something I had poured my heart and soul into), relationship end (although necessary, again a devastating loss).

This, the precise time my parents decide to leave, and live abroad.

And then it hits me.

I am still a child.

I still feel deeply abandoned.

I never came to terms with the fact that my mother was leaving. It was out of the blue. A surprise. Although over the period of a year or so, there was no forewarning.

I was brave. Too brave. Unnecessarily brave.

And now I sit here with tears running down my face as I realise, I should have expressed my upset, my dismay and my feelings surrounding their leaving, not with the aim of preventing it, but for the purpose of allowing myself to feel that it is an appropriate, valid feeling to miss your mother.

That I should stay more closely in contact. I know she is there if I want her anytime I need her, so I should pick up the phone.

Say “Hi mum, I’m upset, I don’t know what to do, can you help me?”

That I don’t need to cope with everything by myself.

That is why Robot’s leaving affected me greater than anything I could have imagined.

Coupled with a deep, sexual infatuation, again, unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Perhaps heightened by circumstance, personality, various other factors.

She was my replacement everything. Mother, carer when ill, lover, best friend, fun, light in the darkness, and ultimately the crux – that prompted me to explore new worlds.

And I must ALLOW myself to be upset. Even if it isn’t really real, it is real to me.

And I must not beat myself up for having feelings. Deep feelings. Emotions coursing through my veins.

Perhaps that is my childhood trauma.

Forced repression of feelings. Things not talked about in a family context.

God knows I have opened up and allowed myself to feel and express myself within other areas of my life.

But not within my family.

And that is what I need to do.

Nothing worse will happen to me than what has already happened and how I am already feeling. It’ll be the bravest thing I have to do in my life. But I want to try.

Because if I ever have a child, I would never want them to feel this way.

And if somebody doesn’t break the cycle, I don’t think anybody will.

And at this point, I have nothing to lose.

And I just want to say thank you to my fellow bloggers, for letting me read your thoughts and feelings and letting me into your lives. The parts where you actually feel things, especially. I have received so much warmth and kindness from you all. Within the immense variety of blogs and different topics I read about on a daily basis, there seems to be something that links it – I think it’s a deep sense of humanity and love for our fellow human beings.

These are my words, but I feel like you built them, and helped me arrive at them.

Please excuse me, I’m having a profound moment here.

And I hope that one day soon I can share something like this with my own family.

6 thoughts on “I’m writing this for me and me alone.

  1. One thing that sucks about being blogging friends is not being able to pop over to give you a great big hug! A cyber hug will have to do … HUGS…. I felt sad for you because you were sad but also proud. Keeping things in is never good for anyone and I think it is very brave of you to want to change that. We are here for you with whatever you choose to share on your blog!

  2. Story time.

    Right after I got home from Spain my Mom and I were sitting at the table and she started to cry. My Mom never cries so I was completely floored. She then proceeded to say that she knows I don’t like her, and I didn’t have to act like I did (FALSE!!!). Basically I just stared at her and was like… wtf? She said that I haven’t talked to her really in years (trueish), I never spend time with her (true), and if I moved away, I’d probably never call (FALSE). She said she knew I resented her for things that happened in the past and that I am insanely jealous of my sister (True, and true). She said I’d always loved my Dad but never understood her (true). I just kind of stared at her and managed to come up with “I don’t talk to anyone, so you shouldn’t take it personally.” So for the past few months I’ve been spending more time with her and talking to her about things that really matter to me.

    My own mother, who is my everything, who I’m terrified of losing to her illness, the one I go to when I’ve slammed rock bottom… didn’t even think I liked her. I have no idea what to do with that because that is the biggest freaking fail in my life. Ever. I didn’t write about it because my sister is on my blog but don’t let that happen to you. It sucks. Call your Mom and tell her that you need her, because things have gotten tough and you miss your family. You sound a lot like my sister. When I’m having trouble, I run to my therapist, I let people know, but she refuses. She says it’s a sign of weakness so she buries it until she freaks the hell out. Literally. So don’t be my sister and bury because it sucks having to pick up the pieces while fighting someone. And don’t be like me who never tells the people I love the most that I even care about them.

    A huge hug to you and you know I’m here if you want to talk. Sorry about the depressing story, it just seemed relevant. Try. Seriously. When you are ready, try like hell. It’s never too late, trust me.

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