January 18, 2020 I turned 30 years old. I didn’t celebrate or even acknowledge it, really and I can’t help but think of everything that brought me here.
Almost all my life has been full of heartache, hurt, sadness, brokenness, tragedy, anger, and resentment. It’s been full of confusion, loneliness, misunderstandings and lies. I’ve been bullied and stepped on. Tossed to the side and Crushed. I’ve felt unloved and unwanted. A lifetime of letting others make me feel like I’m unworthy of love, trust, loyalty, friendship. I’ve never people to love me, to see me. For almost 30 years I’ve felt like a complete failure who deserves all of the horrible things that I’ve been through.
I’ve been so low that I wished I wasn’t walking this Earth anymore. I replay every attempt I’ve made on my life. Memories of pulling the trigger on a loaded 9 while I bawl my eyes out only for it to jam. Or finding out I was pregnant after slicing my wrist open. Maybe one of the best ones was swallowing a bottle of pain killers in front of a family member, one at a time, while they yell and yell and actually told me to go jump off of a bridge.
I’ve been called a lier and attention seeker for addressing sexual abuse. I’ve even had the pleasure of having a significant other day to me that it’s not fair to them that I was uncomfortable in certain sexual situations. I’ve had a problem with alcohol. I’ve had problems with pills. I’ve been abused by so many people including myself. I know what it means to have absolutely nobody to talk to. I know how it feels to be judged for every little feeling thought opinion. I know what it feels like to be free falling off the top of a skyscraper with nobody there at the bottom to catch me and still would never wish it on anybody else to feel that pain.
I think of all the negativity around my daughter’s birth. I think of all the years of disappointment trying to give her a sibling and then finally getting pregnant and the moment my eyes rolled back after the doctors got my son out. I think of the countless tears and sleepless nights where I’d lay awake begging God to just tell me why. Who I deserved to be going through whatever it was at the time.
Today I bury all of that. All of the people. All off the anger and resentment. All of the confusion and longing. Because I just can’t hold onto it anymore. I won’t hold onto it. All these years have been more than damaging. Almost irreversibly damaged. After all I’ve been through and let happen, I feel I have every right to say, FUCK IT. I’ve had enough of putting everyone first even before myself. I’ve had enough of never being number 1.
Turning 30 for me was an end to an era of bull shit and negativity and the start of a brand new book called ‘MY life.’ I will be happy. It’s time for me to be selfish for once. It’s time for me to make memories that aren’t attached to hurt and tears. It hurts feeling like I lost all of my good years. Like I wasted them. But this is my farewell. Goodbye to my youth. Goodbye to the need i have to be wanted and loved the same way I do.
I have a brand new book filled with blank pages ready for me to fill it with amazing things and I pray I get the chance to.