These are the moments. The moments where I feel like no one else in this world understands me. They just happen. I watch a movie and suddenly the tears fall. Well that happens with most women but with me. It’s different. I don’t feel like most people feel. I feel. I feel the heartache. The pain. The joy. I understand. I watch a movie and I think “wow, that movie is my life”. Do I have something wrong with me? Do I have a form of autism. Do I have aspergers? I have always felt different, all my life. I have always felt like no one else understands me. I have always felt misplaced in this world. I long to belong. Yet some weird way I have. But don’t realize it. People at work look up to me. All I see of me is this fucked up person that has no idea who she is herself. I still don’t know what I wanna be when I grow up. I don’t think I ever will. There’s about 5-6 things I’ve always wanted to be. But pursued none of them. Why? Fear of failing. Fear of disappointment. Fear of not being good enough. Because I never was as a child. I didn’t fit it. I didn’t belong. I tried so hard. My mother hated me. My father only wanted my brother. I was lost. Alone. Sad. Depressed. Deeply depressed. So I joined the army. The best and worst years of my life. I felt like I belonged somewhere. Until life got worse. The bipolar was disagnosed at the age of 19. The angry outbursts. The long and weary road of finding someone to love me for me. The way I am. The quirkiness. The loneliness. The misunderstood me. I question whether I ever will be understood. I have a husband who loves me no matter what I say or throw across the room at him. A child who is afraid of me at times but loves me unconditionally. A mother who has only recently figured out that I’ve always been the one there for her. Not my brother. And yet I’m still just this misunderstood person. Like most of us. I think we all long to belong. And fit somewhere. And then there’s the voice in my head……
I don’t tell people I have a voice on my head because well about 98% of them will truly think I’m crazy. Hell I wonder if I’m part schizophrenic at times myself. This voice is not the voice of reason. This voice is Audible. It sounds like me. But isn’t me. I thought it was God at times. Now I just don’t know. I ask myself a question and it answers. Do we all have this voice and I’m not alone. Or am I just that crazy?
I just wanted someone to love me for me. And appreciate all that I do. Because I do so much for so many people. I just don’t feel appreciated. Maybe that’s it? No it can’t be that simple with me. It’s never that simple with me.
My son. The love of my life. He’s even more misunderstood than I am. He’s different. Physically. Mentally. emotionally. I’m doing to him what they did to me without even realizing it. This poor child. He lights up my life. Every day I come home and he gives me this huge smile when he sees me and his smile is amazing. The love he has for me and others is amazing. Yet a typical pre-teen boys attitude comes along with it. I want him to understand that I understand he’s different. I want him to know it’s ok. That I love him no matter what. My baby boy. The only thing I ever did right in this world. My precious baby boy who is now 12. Not a baby anymore. How I hate that he has grown up. I never understood pure true love until I had my child. I’d do anything for him. I’ll always love you sweetheart. ❤