This may be a long entry, so I'll preface it with an apology. I certainly don't want to come across as whiny or self-absorbed, but well, it's my blog, so if you aren't interested, you certainly don't have to read. However, I do promise to attempt at ending this particular entry on a positive, perhaps even enlightened viewpoint.
I am an anxious person and I sometimes find myself wondering, why? Why spend the time and energy worrying and wondering and thinking? Why make myself sick, literally sick, with anxiety when I don't have to? The logical part of me poses this question to the part of me that is anxious and I simply don't understand why I can't just figure myself out and be done with it.
I wonder about whether I'm sick or going crazy or dying...anything that is out of my control. And that is where this negativity is stemmed...I'm afraid of not being in control. I am scared of anything that leaves me vulnerable and out in the open. I get frightened when my body twinges for no reason; I think, Oh, here it goes, I'm dying. I just know it. And every time, I'm fine. I have a little blip of fear and then I go back to normal. Same thing with being afraid of losing my mind. A thought will occur to me and it will be crazy or strange to me and I immediately assume I'm losing my mind.
It frightens me so much that I dwell on it and I can't let it go. There are things in my life that have certainly led me to this state. I was abused as a child. I was abused in every sense of the word and it wasn't just once or twice. It was every day. I didn't have one day when I wasn't afraid of something. Was I going to be hit? Would I be yelled at? Is mom and dad going to yell and scream and fight? Will we have to leave in the middle of the night?
My mom used to come to me with adult choices. What bill should I pay? Should I get this job? Should I buy this or pay for that? I was a child but my mother treated me as if I were her equal... only to tear me down later and beat me with such anger that I was certain she hated me and everything I brought for her. I was scared of my mother...and my step dad. He frightened me on levels I couldn't comprehend at that age.
He never missed an opportunity to scare the hell out of me. He was always playing mind games with me. I remember one time in particular. I was five or six and I'd lied to him about something; though, I admit I can't remember what it had been. I remember he was furious and he spanked the back of my hands with a spatula while he yelled at me. Tears streamed down my face and I sobbed while he punished me. My mother looked on while he slapped my hands over and over and over. Then he made me press my forehead against the wall with my hands at my side. It felt like forever. He then made me go to my room. A few hours later, my little brother came into the room and told me dad was taking us to the park. I remember for a small moment, I thought, He must have forgiven me. Everything is okay again!
But then my little brother came back and informed me dad had lied to me and we weren't going anywhere and if I came out of the room, I'd be beaten. I was so heartbroken and so scared. Everything I did seemed to be questioned and ridiculed by him. My mother didn't seem to protect me from any of it and it made me feel incredibly lost. Here I was, a child, afraid and feeling alone in my battle and my mother wasn't fighting for me. Instead, she allowed this person back into our lives; even after seeing that he was hardly the best choice for us.
I wasn't given a lot of attention as a child. My little brother and sister always seemed more important; though, looking back I realize it was just circumstances. My little brother was the only boy, so of course he was going to get more attention for that reason. My little sister was the baby of the family, so there again, she would get more attention for that reason... Me... I had to hang back a little. I didn't want my step dad in my life; everyone else did. I had to pretned most of my life that I loved him or that I was happy when in fact, I hated him.
I hated trying to win him over and never succeeding. I hated trying to prove myself, but always falling short. I hated the way he spoke to my mother and treated my brother and me. I hated that I couldn't just run away and never come back. I threatend that a lot because I was trying to get someone to hear me: I"M UNHAPPY!! HELP ME!
My mother was more physically abusive. She used to get this look in her eye... she scared me. I thought she'd kill us eventually. She threatened us with bodily harm, adoption... even killing us. We were terrified of her. All of us. You never knew what would set her off.
I think this is why I'm always so scared. I had no control over my life growing up. I had to do whatever everyone else wanted. I was hit regardless of what I did. I was made to feel as if nothing I did was right. I was sexually abused. No one ever asked me what I wanted. I was always out of control. Hence, the incredible fear of being out of control.
I'm afraid of dying because it's out of my control. One day I'll die. Whether I'm ready or not. I'm afraid of being sick. Something could take over my body and completely ruin my life. Whether I'm okay with or not. It could happen. I'm afraid of going crazy. Everything around me could suddenly lose its value because something went wrong in my mind. Whether I was okay with it or not. That, too could happen...
But I have to remember a few things. Everyone dies. Few are ready. That is life. Everyone has moments where they are sick. Some have life-long conditions. So I'm anxious? Everyone has something. It's all in how you deal with it. I am not crazy. I am a woman who went through hell as a child and life isn't just going to be easy. I will learn to be happy. One day, because I am determined and willing to try, I will be happy. This, this I promise myself. I will be happy and I will overcome. It could happen. :)
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