I am not a happy person. I have never been the chipper, go-getter who can smile their way through anything. Instead I am much more like a grumpy storm cloud. I live my life as a pessimist but also as a realist.
I know what my world looks like. I know what has happened and even though I have moved forward, I will never forget about the past. Our life experiences change us. They alter the people that we will become and that is okay. Everyday is a learning experience.
The people who know me understand me. They understand that I am a shoulder to cry on. I am always available for advice and for help. I am more than one persons 2 a.m. phone call and a few peoples emergency and reference contacts. I am reliable and punctual. I am also unsteady. The ground I walk on is uneven because I am balanced upon these underlying emotions I have not dealt with. Emotions I have stuffed underneath in an attempt to continue being the person people need me to be. I often consider packing a bag and leaving. Not running, just restarting. I wish I could move on and erase the person I am and become a better person. I would say ‘become a better me’ but that wouldnt be good enough. Even the best version of myself is not as good as I want to be.
Today, I feel like I am losing the battle between moving forward and facing yesterday. Memories keep surfacing and they leave me frozen. They leave me trapped in the past. Every day is a constant reminder because of where I am. I see him and his hands around a bottle and the bottle turns into my brothers throat. I see him punch a pillow and I recall it being my face. I see him take a sip and I noticably brace myself for what will come. I am broken. I am laying here trying to fix myself so that I can be whole but the pieces keep tearing off. I cannot live my life and give more pieces of myself to other people because I need all the pieces I have.
I find it funny when people try to convince me that they can fix me. In return all the ask if for a piece of me to hold onto. How can you fix someone while holding a part of what makes them whole? You can’t. I have been to therapy where they request my stories and my feelings. Where they try to piece together on paper all the parts of me. They fail everytime. Why? Because I cannot give them every piece of me. I feel the need to hold on to certain pieces for fear of losing all of me and as a result the puzzle they’ve been making is never complete.
Basically, I am the puzzle you find in your basement. It is put aside because it makes an ugly picture. Because it is missing pieces and other pieces are broken or damaged. Even when you find the puzzle, you cannot put it back together entirely because you’ll never find all the pieces. As people, we give parts of ourselves to other people and because of that we can never truly be whole.
Humpty dumpty sat on a wall….