My fucking voice

So I’ve been trying to figure out why I had this sudden shyness to post on here. I mean, you’ve seen it, I suddenly started posting less. Granted yes, my life got busy I did flow training and had other shit going on, but it’s something deeper I just know it.

I have this perpetual problem of putting way too much on my plate, saying yes and adding things when I should be taking it easy. While it does happen less so now, it still happens sometimes, though more often than not its with things that I genuinely love spending my time doing. I think I know whats going on though. Not only have I been posting less, but I haven’t been really advertising when I do post, almost like I’m afraid to be heard. This blog started as a way of using my voice to help those who might feel just as lost and confused, heart broken and alone as I did/do. I started being able to use my voice in ways I hadn’t before, I used it to stand up for abuse, to talk about my feelings, and yet somehow forgot that other stuff inevitably trickles in as well.
Growing up in an emotionally abusive home I never had a voice, the words I said or opinions I had weren’t worth anything, and I was constantly told I’m over dramatic/too sensitive/too much/worthless. I think I told you this next story before, but I’m going to tell it again, because its awful, and its a moment that had a snowball effect on my self worth.

When I was little I used to come home from hanging out with a friend, usually my BFF from next door, but other friends too of course, but this paticular occassion it was the bff and I would sit at the fire with my mom or grandmother and talk to them, see how their day was, on the off chance maybe I’d feel loved or heard, important that day by them. This day it was my grandmother sitting on one of the huge cushions she had made by the fire smoking. Occasionally when I’d sit there I’d be given a speach about how I should never let anyone tell me I can’t do anything (ironic right?) or it’d be some talk about music or being famous (the downfalls of it). This paticular time, followed and proceeded by several talks exactly like it, Grandma started telling me about how this bff of mine didn’t actually like me, she didn’t value me or care about me. She kept me around to feel better about herself, she pitied me. Grandma told me that sometimes girls like to keep fat girls around them so that they feel better about themselves. Yes, she said this to me, and I was probably about 12? That moment, which was among a ton of others similar I felt my hope fall apart. You see, I’d come down into this conversation feeling so good about my friendship (we had a good day building our fort or something) I felt connection I thought I was cared for by at least this one person. This day all the chips fell, or whatever that phrase is (that bff would know for it).

Side note, my fucking heart is pounding. My breath just shallowed, I started fidgeting more (which I do a certain way when I’m anxious) and I feel this like….big ball of anger/fear/sadness in the centre of my chest. Ugh, okay gotta keep going now clearly this is a big deal.

OKAY. Phew. So this person who was raising me, someone I looked up to and admired had planted this seed in my head when I was about 3-4 that I wasn’t good enough. Every time my mother called me selfish, or made me feel like I wasn’t enough, I was worthless it grew. Every time my grandmother called me fat, manipulated me, told me I’m not cared for it grew a little more. Slowly and so disguised that outsiders would have to look really hard to see, they abused me. Its like they started burning me from the inside out, and this moment when my grandmother told me my only worth to my best friend was that she keeps me around so she feels prettier and skinnier, that she really pitied me and didn’t want to be my friend is when part of that seed broke surface, that burn grew like the grinches heart, three times the size. Every connection I have ever had just about, I’ve wondered seriously if I’m good enough for them to care and love me. I’ve thought about that stupid fucking comment my asshole of a grandmother said and had this kind of feeling in the back of my heart that they didn’t actually like me. They just kept me around because I was useful, or convenient. When people start to get close I get scared that I can’t trust them, sometimes I sabotage the connection and run away, sometimes, because people are often assholes, I have chosen the wrong person to trust, and because I couldn’t stand up for myself I assumed it was my fault rather than their overstep. I try to keep it in check, and every time it comes up remind myself this person I’m getting close to isn’t those family members, those opinions are not my own. Somtimes I still get scared. What kind of a person teaches a child that?

All of this is to say that I got scared. I got scared that because I’ve been on this blog for about a year, you’ve all gotten to know a bit of my secrets, my dark sides, my flaws. I got scared that I wasn’t worth listening to. I got scared that people are thinking “ugh, enough of this blog already”. I let my fear get in the way of the reason I’m doing this damn difficult blog in the first place: to help other people who might be living in the dark alone. So, here I am. Brutally honestly sharing my fears and how they get in the way.

Its difficult to get through, I wont lie. Because I was taught these things nearly every day for about like 23 years of my life, they’re difficult opinions to stop listening to. I have to work through, and feel it all every time it comes up, and holy shit its exhausting. I am in therapy, actively facing my shit as often as I possibly can. I am trying to challange myself to let people close, but people who deserve to be close. Stand up for my worth to the people who I might not have done before. I’m exercising, playing music, opening up to freiends, taking my vitamins, writing (this is proof), and still have periods of time where I feel like I’m drowning. Hell, last week and the week before I was so depressed I could barely speak without crying, I couldn’t get out of bed. When that happens to you, though I know how fucking poisonous that voice in your head can be, remember that this isn’t forever. Try and ask yourself “what would make me feel good and taken care of right now?” And eliminate all the destructive harmful ideas. It can be something really small, or build up to something bigger. Share some things youre proud of, and good things that have happened with someone, or write them down. That helps too.
What is something you did this past week that you’re proud of?

I promise to keep being real with you guys, and keep using my fucking voice even when it is scary, and makes me feel vulnerable. Because thats when I need to use it the most.

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