With everything that’s going on with my anxiety recently it has brought to light certain things. May be things I’d buried or rather not think of because of the sadness they cause me. I’m often questioned about my anxiety, everyone wants to know why.
Why are you anxious?
What brought it on?
And to be honest I hadn’t thought that deeply about it, it simply was how I felt. I’m still not sure it matters why.
Does it help to dwell in the past?
The questioning has transported me back and although my memory is patchy I am faced with the sad realisation that I wasn’t loved as much as I needed to be. And this has come to light as it makes perfect sense that someone who felt segregated as a child would come to feel rejected and lacking in self-worth as time wore on.
Why can’t I remember a time when I felt loved by you? I only remember times when I was reprimanded and your glaring eyes fixed upon me like I was your prey. I remember the way your voice changed, it was scary. I was freaked out. Did you realised what you looked like?
Perhaps looking back now there was something going on with you that I wouldn’t understand back then and perhaps in time my memory has become biased and distorted but it’s all I have so correct me if I’m wrong.
I wonder who repelled who? After seeing how you could treat me did I decide I wanted little to do with you or was it you who felt that your other babies were better and I was just a nuisance. There must be a reason why I feel that I was treated much less favourably and it has been noted by close friends. It’s not all in my head. It was real. It still is, isn’t it? Yes, it makes sense now that I would sleep so many hours of the day listening out for everyone to leave and hearing the lock of the door. I would creep out of bed, burden free and peep out of the window to see you drive off. And then I was alone. But it felt good. The peace of the empty house, no shouting or arguing. Pure tranquility. And so I see that without your presence I felt more at peace with myself and you became this smog when I was around you. Everything seemed a little darker and harder to breathe.
My identity was eroded years ago. You the crashing wave and me the ebbing rock face, crumbling with every lash. It did not prove worthwhile to fight. You were always right and I was always wrong.
Why did you do that?
You should do this. You should do that.
How much was this? How much!!!
I began to feed you lies to protect myself from your criticism. I would say what I thought you wanted to hear. It started long ago, I still can’t say no to people, I still can’t tell people what I think. It was drummed in to me long ago that I was always wrong so is that why I now think everyone is better than me and my opinion is not worthy?