Mental Mashup

Just when I think I’m over it, something triggers my feelings once again. Reminding me that although I have come a really long way, I still have a long way to go. For 43 years I kept my feelings silent. For 43 years I could only see the good in someone else and only the bad within myself. It is painful for me to accept that I was right all along. That there was really something wrong. That these people aren’t as normal and balanced as they would like me to believe. So I chose to be unhealthy. I believed that I was crazy. How else could I explain to myself or anyone else that I see the higher version of what everyone could possibly be, I can’t accept what they really are. Negative, dense, unthinking beings. I’ve been told I cannot hold other people up to my standards.  But those aren’t my standards I’m trying to hold people up to.  They’re my perceptions of what those people already are, what they could potentially be if they would awaken to their higher selves.  It’s not my idea, it’s just what I perceive.  


Not everyone is like me. But there is nothing wrong with me. 

It makes me so emotional when I think about the past. No matter what perspective I eventually take, I must accept what really was. I must accept now what I refused to see before about my father and the man who I married and the people who have come in and out of my life who I have called family. People always told me my dad and JE looked like twins. They looked more like brothers than my father and husband. I was in denial. Denial that I’d married an even more painful version of him.  


For my entire childhood I was afraid. And my whole family contributed. Some directly, and some just by letting it happen.

I was afraid he’d hit me if I’d spoken up 

I was afraid of their physical strength 

I was afraid they’d hit below the belt 

I was afraid of their sucker punch 

I was afraid of them reducing me

I was afraid of his alcohol breath 


I was afraid of their complete disregard for me 

I was afraid of their tempers 

I was afraid of handles being flown off of 

I was afraid of holes being punched into walls 

I was afraid of her wooden spoon

I was afraid of his testosterone

I have as much rage as they have

I have as much pain as they do

I’ve lived as much hell as they have

And I’ve kept mine bubbling under for them all


I watched them all just standing by

He was supposed to be my best friend

He was supposed to be my lover

He was supposed to be my mentor

He was my father

When he should have been my partner

He was supposed to be my teacher

But none of them cared for me


And the family stood by and watched it happen. None of them disagreed. None of them stood up for me. We were so far away from them. But when we visited, they joined in the ganging up on me

With their sarcasm and cruelty. Compounding the negativity.


I was afraid of verbal daggers 

I was afraid of the calm before the storm 

I was afraid for my own bones

I was afraid of his seduction 

I was afraid of their coercion 

I was afraid of their rejection

I was afraid of their intimidation 

I was afraid of the punishment 

I was afraid of their icy silences

I was afraid of their volume 

I was afraid of their manipulation 

I was afraid of his explosions

And still


I have as much rage as they have

I have as much pain as they do

I’ve lived as much hell as they have

If not more

But I’ve kept mine bubbling under for them

He was my keeper

He was supposed to be my anchor

I thought they were my family

I thought he was my savior

And therein lay the issue

And therein lay the problem

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *