Being a person growing up in an alcoholic dysfunctional family, I sometimes have really hard time expressing myself and what I am actually feeling.
It's far easier to just shut myself up and smile and act like nothing is wrong. A lot of people do this too, not just victims of abuse, some people do it because they want everyone to think that they are perfect, or they don't want to share anything personal with people. It's not that I don't want to do that, but for me personally, I don't want to shut myself up anymore. I don't want to act like nothing hurts me, that I don't make mistakes, that I don't worry if I am making the right decisions.
Its like when people ask you "How are you doing?" Do you really want to know? Are you just asking to be polite? In probably 99% of the time these people are just asking. They don't want to see you break down and say "No, I'm having a pretty awful day."
This is just a blog. I get to type whatever I want in here and yet I feel like I can't. That people who will read this will think to themselves "Why is she posting such personal stuff up on here?" Its like that on Facebook too. If you are sad or post a status about feeling down. You get at least one status from another friend claiming how they hate how people put too much stuff on facebook. No one wants to really share anything. No one really wants to be your friend. I try really hard to keep my friends list to a minimum and have friends who actually do care about if I do put something up more personal. People who if they see I am having a bad day want to lift me up and support me.
For me personally, writing has always been the only way I could get my feelings out. There was no one to really talk to. And the two people I would love to confront most, I can't.
You can't talk to an alcoholic. You just sit there and take the abuse and the next day when they are sorry have to listen to them cry, and say they are sorry and that it won't happen again.
But it does. It always does.
For every good day I lived in that house there would be countless nights filled with screaming, fighting, and kids who wanted love and support, but instead got nothing.
When I say nothing I mean nothing. Oh thank you for the roof over my head. Apparently I should be grateful for that.
But why is it, I can't help but be angry that I didn't get more? I often wonder am I always going to feel like this? I should say its not as much angry as it is bitter.
I got dealt this, and am trying to learn to live with it.
I am trying to look forward and enjoy all the wonderful things my life is going to be experiencing. But I hold that hurt inside, just a little. Maybe when my own little man is here, and any other future children, I can learn to let it go little by little. I hope so.