I saw Doc yesterday, and we made some discoveries. For a couple of months I’ve been aware of Belle, another alter. I am scared of Belle. She wants to die ALL the time. I spend a great deal of my time and energy fighting her despair and wish to die. Doc’s theory is that Belle holds all the despair and depression from childhood. She holds that for all the rest of us so that we did not have to endure it. He asked me to get a journal just for Belle. I finally did that tonight, and I am afraid to write in it as Belle. I think Belle also experienced hunger for all of us. There were times that I was truly hungry as a child, too painful to even write about right now.
The new journal lies within my tote bag, and I fear even touching it because touching it would mean I would need to take the next step and open it to write.
One of my friends posted the video from lifevestinside.com below to Facebook. It’s actually a happy video, but it made me cry, specifically at 3:11 in the video. That’s when a man gives another man a hot dog and water, and in that moment, I felt myself tear up. I know I teared up because I know what it’s like to be hungry, and I know that look when you bite into something after being hungry for so long.
Today, for the first time in my life, I admitted that I believe that God does not like me, does not care for me. It’s not something that is easy to admit, but it is true that this is how I feel, what I believe. I want the truth to be otherwise.
An hour passed since I wrote the paragraph above.
The realization that there is not one thing I would do in the world for my mother and stepfather is painful for me. I’ve tried and tried to search in my heart for feeling for them, but there is none to be had. I come up empty every single time.
When friends shake their heads at this fact I want shake them back and yell, “Don’t you know that I wish I could find a shred of feeling for them?! It is painful to feel nothing for one’s parents. The guilt is immense.”
If you blow out a candle enough times you eventually will be unable to relight it. You can only relight it so many times. My parents extinguished the light long ago. I’ve tried to relight it for them to no avail.
When the light was extinguished for my parents it seems that God blew out my candle as well.
When you’ve run away from home you can never truly run away.
You ran away at 18, and aside from a short period of time in your twenties, you’ve not looked back.
The news of your grandmother’s death wafts its way to you eventually. You’ve learned that your grandmother died on Friday, the mother of your father. Your father left your life when you were a little girl. You didn’t have a lot of involvement with this grandmother, but you did have contact with your aunt, your father’s sister.
The family expects you to attend. You can’t even bring yourself to call them “your family.” The concept is an abomination to your brain.
There is no way that you are going. For a moment of insanity you considered it, and looked up flights on Kayak. The cheapest flight was $890! But you know in the back of your mind that if the flight had been free you would have declined. The search was just a formality for your brain.
Though you are not going, you have that shaky, twitchy feeling. You know that thousands of miles away that they’re shaking their heads when they speak of you. And though you ran away 20 years ago, they still have a hold on you.
Academic librarian with 15+ years of experience. Passionate about lifelong learning and student success. Interested in user experience and organizational leadership. For me, being a librarian has never been about the books--it's about the people!