2009-09-14 @ 2:26 a.m.....

Wow. Ok. So....

It is 3 years later. And I think I've grown a lot. Capitalization and punctuation: A Lot.

And now, I suddenly find myself in need of a place to vent. To expel my thoughts anonymously once again.

No one can know about this, but I am lost. Again.

After all of my growing and chasing my dreams, here I stand. Yet, I am not grounded. I cannot feel the tierra beneath my feet is solid. I cannot feel it in my soul. Hence, full-circle.

I will attempt to spill it all out one way or another. The thing I can definitely promise - it will not be chronological. Neither chrono, nor logical.

But something needs to flow from my brain out my fingers. I have been silent for too long.

I used to be so afraid. Of being caught. Of being exposed. Of baring my soul only to find that it falls flat on the floor with no one there to help me pick up the pieces.

Hmm.. I suppose that would have to be me. I am the only one who can pick up the pieces now. I am certain of this.

After all of my travels and travails. After all of my struggles and triumphs. I am certain that no one will ever be my net. Not one single person.

But maybe, just maybe... if I let them... they will band together and become my net. My network of friends and family.

There is the key in that puzzle - that I would need to let them be there for me. Instead I suffer in silence.

Twisted, tormented, tightly wound. Deep, dense, dark layers. Wounds. Scars. Battlefields. All undulating beneath the surface at all times. It's no wonder I can't see the path in front of me. There's all this mess in the way.

So how to dig myself out? Because I am forcing myself to do it alone. Because I'm still very much afraid. To let anyone shoulder these burdens. For any one person, it is simply too too much.

Except for me, right? I should be able to handle what was given to me. Or at least that's what I've convinced myself.

So here I am. I guess, this is my therapy session (since I don't trust the medical community (and since I'm convinced that I'm an oddity that they'll really want to "study" (because I'm paranoid) and write everything down and eventually publish to become a bestseller) because I've been traumatized by "doctors" from a young age) because this way I can remain anonymous and... who knows, who cares. If someone were to take this from here and publish it, I'd like to know what the hell someone has to say about it. I just don't want anyone to know that it came from me.

I don't want anyone to know the real me until I figure me out. Then I can just be and not have to worry about saying the right things, reacting the right way, holding back when I need to and letting go when it's right.

This whole thing has been building for some time. Came to a head watching a strange indie flick last night. Cut a little too close to the bone. Like, did someone read my diary close. Then an additional movie tonight only added fuel to the fire and here I am. Literally vibrating with negative energy from feeling so close to how I really feel.

Like, this is how I really feel underneath the surface. It hurts like hell. It makes no sense. I am safe, but scared. I am an adult, but childlike. I remain calm, but underneath the surface I am raging. I look fine, but I'm feeling like the ugliest person on the planet. I am intelligent, but I feel like I know nothing. I am well off financially, but I feel worthless.

There are many factors in my current situation/relationship that keep me on this path of feeling this way.

But it all stems from my past.

So I'm hoping beyond hope that if I can work out the past, this whole present/future thing will right itself. Because right now it makes no sense: I am "happy", but I am overcome by sadness.

My father-daughter complex is that I never had a father. Well, my mother was divorcing her husband at the time while I was being born. He refused to acknowledge me as his, even though he was her husband and they had another child together (my older brother). The story went that he and my mother both strayed from their marriage together with other people. My mother always claimed I was his. He always claimed otherwise. That was my norm growing up. While my brother had to split time between the two of them growing up, I did not. In my eyes, that meant that I was unwanted. In fact, there were several years worth of custody battles over my brother, but for me there were none. Unwanted. Single parents where I'm from just weren't the norm for the rest of my classmates and friends. So that's when I began to realize that I was different. That's when I turned inward. Because no one else understood. Hearing the one-sided stories told from my mother and brother's point of view, all I had were bits and pieces, I was better off without. He was an asshole. Leave it at that. But... then what does that make me? I mean, besides a bastard, because I am also that. What does that make me - only half human? Because my own father doesn't acknowledge my existence? Because the worst thing that you can do to a human being is to ignore her? From my brother, I began to recognize a way out - maybe he really wasn't my dad. Maybe I was, in fact, a love-child instead of a product of hate. Hmm. That was a much better story. So I tried that on for size and it sufficed for a while. But dang for my love of Truth. Curses for me to always pick at the corners of things and try to see what is underneath. It can't be that bad, or can it? So no, after I got the words from my mother - the first and last name of her sexcapade - I googled and I found him. I was convinced he was mine. I was so enraptured with the possibilities. The relief! Then, emboldened by this - I made a plan. I was to ask for a fool-proof DNA test. Well, no. Not to disrupt a complete stranger halfway across the universe, no. Start with the known variable, see. Always. So I balled up all of my courage, got my brother to help (who now, by the way, is father to 2 gorgeous girls, and is trying to repair the damaged relationships on his end for their sake, which still kinda stings a little for me if I am to be completely honest, but I know it is not my place to be in the way) and asked my mother's ex-husband for a DNA test to give me a final answer. No more of this is he or isn't he or fairytale stories, dreams and nightmares.... Well? He is 99.9999% my biological father. And he now knows this for sure. Ha ha. Who is laughing now? Well, nobody I suppose. He is not because now he has irrefutable proof that he walked out on his own flesh and blood and is too much of a chickenshit to do anything about it at this point, 30 years later. And I am certainly not because now I am falling back into that trap of wondering what I did so wrong to deserve this and what does this make me except incapable of forging lifelong bonds with ANYONE except for my mother and brother and maternal grandmother (may she rest in peace).

There. That was much shorter than I thought it would be, I guess I skimmed on the melodrama where I try to "find myself" over and over again. That is the gist of it and guess what, I never admitted that part to myself before so I never realized how much sense it makes. I am scared shitless, I bet, because I feel incapable of forging lifelong bonds with ANYONE and let's see:

-I am in a serious relationship (and possibly self-sabotaging)
-I am in a stable job with several people that I see every day (and don't talk to)
-I am avoiding any contact with family outside my mother and brother
-I have made it a point to become closer to my step-father
-I would like to become closer with my brother again
-My mom has had to face some demons in the past year and it has helped our relationship in many ways. But when am I going to have an open and honest discussion with her about all this? Ever?
-When am I going to have an open and honest conversation about all this with anyone in my inner circle? Couldn't they help me? I don't think I'm convinced of that yet.
-I have several friends who refuse to give up on me even when I give up on myself and sometimes them.... What the heck did I do to deserve them? Why can't I figure this out??
-I can never even stick with one journal all the way through, I stop and start new ones and scatter bits and pieces all over the place. Would it serve any purpose for me to compile everything in one place? I wonder...
-I am scared to death of "my past" creeping up on me... I am supremely paranoid in this respect and feel like the floor will drop out from under me at any time. I am embarassed and I am ashamed. Now what can I do about that?
-I don't really know what I'm listing anymore.

I just needed to write it out, stream of conscious style, because I can feel the pressure building and I know that feeling well. Now that I feel a little drained and relieved, it's time for bed.

what had happened was.... ~ ....what comes next?