I have met a guy who is actionably there, but possibly emotionally unavailable. I say possibly, because I gave up on us before the possibility could ever be tested.
It was a feeling, an intuition, or perhaps downright fear that drove to end a relationship, that I now admittedly miss.
I am thankful to have found someone who cherished me the way he did, it made me feel good, and I think I wasn’t completely there for him the way I should have.
Thank you, for a lovely memory I’ll never forget.
I have essentially stopped contacting my parents. I’m not sure if it’s considered evil by society to cut contacts with one’s parents. But I’ve been happier since, I think. My parents need me in a way that makes me want to suffocate. They need me to come to them so they can dump all of their emotional baggage onto me, it’s the only way for them to feel… better.
For anyone not understanding what I’m talking about, please read this book
I now need to find the capacity to love, to love a normal person. It’s incredibly, incredibly difficult, let me tell you. I’m insecure about them, insecure about myself, and I have to constantly tell myself to listen to my heart, and then question whether I should listen to my heart because my heart has been fucked-up so badly I can’t possibly believe it’s not going to make the same mistakes again.
Therapy, I’m definitely going, soon!
I am pretty sure I am in a depression.
I cry about once a day, when I come home from work, late at night. I watch videos until 3am to numb myself, then I get up right before work. I spend $9 and take a cab to work almost everyday, because I am always running late and there isn’t enough coffee to wake me up, nor enough makeup to cover my sad face.
I am agitated at work, and my co-workers notice it. Thank God I have a few close ones who don’t judge.
I have ended all conversations with my family, because I am slowly trying to realize how not to get myself emotionally abused. My mother is thrusting her needs onto me, by demanding that I become happy. I am too distrustful of my dad to communicate with him without feeling like I will get manipulated.
I am realizing what a emotionally abusive household I grew up in, and how much damage it has done to me.
But I think realization and acceptance are the first steps toward any recovery.
In the beginning of this year, I prayed that I would be able to finally like someone and feel excited to see someone, I secretly vowed that I wouldn’t care about the outcome, that I just wanted my boring life to have some spice.
Sure enough the gods answered my call and I started to like a boy, one who would not be able give me an outcome. So as quickly as the emotional flair attacked me from beyond, it ended, and I was left to feel cheated, lied to, and used.
And I collapsed. I started to wonder how I could possibly get this upset over a nothing, and how I could have fell dependent on someone (or some experience) that should not have defined me in the first place.
Then, it was as if I collapsed, overnight, with all my emotional love sucked out of me. I abandoned all my good habits in life, and felt scared, lonely and empty, especially during the weekends when I didn’t work. I cried once a day, and spent every free moment of my life glued to a television show, because I couldn’t bare sitting down and taking a hard look at my nonexistent, embarrassingly empty life.
Then, I found this, and a lot of my irrational fears and outbursts of tears clicked. The reason why I have been struggling to hard in life – having trouble forming relationships and staying happy, is all because I have been emotionally abused.
I am seeking help and trying to find a way to get over hating my parents. I am trying to remember and in turn, trying to put that behind me. There is a long road ahead of me but I am finally (!) growing up.
Here’s the news that pretty much sums up my life: I got dumped, then I got promoted. About 2 years ago, I got dumped, then I found an amazing job. It seems that my effort in work inevitably pays off, and my effort in life just knocks me down.
I’m going into therapy, to figure out if this is my parents fault.
But meanwhile, I’m going to spend less time thinking about how to look for love, and more time just living.
When I was 16 years old, I was sitting on a train traveling back to a small province in China for the first time since I left it 4 years ago. I was 16, I had barely started to speak English, and I was returning home. The landscape gradually turned from vegetation to sand, and my heart swelled as I realize that home is approaching, with grandmother and aunt and cousin eagerly waiting at the platform. I didn’t know what home was, only what home was not. Home has become a memory. Memory has become my home.
I am 26 now. Ten years have passed since I began to have an inkling of how interesting, how messed-up, how painful and how difficult my life has really become since embarking on the journey to America. Sometimes, well, most of the time, I have a hard time figuring out which part of me feels the pain of growing up in America, which part of me feels the pain of emotional abuse from my parents, and which part of me just feels the pain of growing up.
The memories of that past no longer affects me, but it has shaped me into the person I am today: detached, somewhat superficial, insecure, unaware of what’s expected, and certainly easily prayed upon.
I have liked someone, because I trusted him. And he ended up not liking me, and told me so. I am sad, now, and depressed. What is wrong with me, I ask myself, that made me not worthy for him to like, that I am somehow not good enough for him to get over his ex-girlfriend for. Or perhaps it wasn’t the ex-girlfriend at all, nor was it any other choice involved. That it was the pure fact that I am not likable. I am just not likable, like what my parents have always told me all those years growing up.
I take 2 steps forward, see some rays of hope. And then I take five steps backward and completely collapse in the darkness.
Today, a boy told me he doesn’t want me to be his girlfriend, after months of trying to hang out with me, sleeping over at my apartment. His excuse to all that behavior was, “I was clueless.”
Life has gotten so pointless, I really don’t know what to say anymore.
Remember when I said I’m going to take all the risks hoping I’d get up a better person after I fall down? Well, I was secretly hoping I wouldn’t fall… now that I did, it really, really hurts.
