I know how it feels to be scared. I have spent most of my life being scared. I have felt like there was no-one to trust but many to fear. The ones who were suppose to help me and keep me safe, are the main ones responsible for the fear I have inside. I do cope, if you could say that. Sometimes I relive things and sometimes I imagine things . Using different scenarios I will let my own mind move through it all, until I see what lies at the end of that particular scenario. I have always felt like that is what keeps me from totally cracking or falling apart. If somehow I could imagine things and have myself deal with those imaginations, of worse case scenarios, I would be more prepared and equipped to deal with them should they become a reality. I guess.
A lot of things have happened to me that only I know. As is the case with others, I’m sure. I remember lots of things but never really all in one sitting. The remembered parts of my life, come in segments , sometimes at different months, years, or days. Nothing really has to “set them off”. The thoughts of remembering, just happen when they want , usually. I don’t think anyone could really understand the way my life has truly felt for me. I doubt anyone has a decent clue, even. I have talked about things at various times and those listening will sometimes just nod. Sometimes, those listening to my stories, will comment on what I have told them. None listening or commenting really help me to feel better. In fact seeing their expressions make me feel more isolated, more misunderstood. It is a vicious cycle. I want others to know, to hear, to feel what I did, but how can they, really? Is it even possible?
There has always been that voice inside my head that tells me, “Maybe you have made up half of the stuff you think or say has happened.” It eats away at my mind’s sanity. I mean it could be possible, couldn’t it? Then there is the pain and feelings I felt that flood into my everyday life, into my reasonings, my thoughts, my pain. That would have to be real, right? I mean I have seen or read about someone making up things that they truly believe has occurred or been done to them. They believe in what they have said and feel so much, perhaps they have unannounced to them, convinced themselves of something that is erroneous. I have no doubt that our minds are very powerful motivators for things we do and the actions we do as well.
Why was I put in the life I find myself in? Why must I constantly doubt that true love is something I have, will have, or is even meant for me? I constantly doubt the sincerity of people’s actions, and I question their motives. This comes from the fatherly betrayal and from my own mother’s problems with me, and in dealing with her own life. I find it hard to let myself just relax and lean on another person. It is and has always been a long and strenuous journey for me to come to terms with. However, I must keep going through it, trying to understand it, and keep love in my heart. It would be so easy to not care for anyone, or even myself. I must constantly tell myself I am worthy of love, real love. I must also tell myself that there are genuine people out there with genuine feelings for me. I must never stop believing in faith and hope and charity. Never!
My journey is not the most terrible one that has ever occurred. There are people that have experienced extreme treatments and hurts, and have had awful lives, at the hand of another person. I believe each person is different, feels things differently, and deals with things in a fashion that is appropriate for them. For me, my home life,, has it’s share of secrets, heartaches, and sadness. It is not however without good times, happiness, and love. This has always been my own story, my own life. Being Blue has been one of the hardest burden, to bear. I hope that one day I can help others, the way a few have helped me, by telling the story, so many live and know, as well. I hope in sharing my life that others will find the strength and the courage, for whatever battle they find themselves facing.
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