It appears I’m no longer motivated to write, I want to write, I want to share my thoughts but I don’t because I seem to be just as toxic as the world I complain about so I don’t because it makes me seem like a hypocrite.
I’ve had a lot of weird things happen that have caused me to almost become a recluse. Throughout my life I have always felt like someone was sabotaging me. It’s a hard feeling to describe. I’ve discovered quite a few things about my life that are damn near impossible to describe or even understand and when I try I sound insane. And sadly I believe I was set up to appear like I am insane to help the person continue with their path of destruction.
I think I might have been a victim of narcissistic abuse from a narcissist who is so good at pretending that even if I shared my story it would be unbelievable. I believe there is only one person who can understand what has happened to me and unfortunately he died in 2009. I’m learning the abuse/neglect he suffered was quite possibly worse than the abuse/neglect I experienced. I’m slowly learning how to transition from the golden child to the scape goat to finding people who I can call family.
I’m thankful for those few of you who read my ramblings. Healing is extremely difficult and I continue to discover things about my past that not only help put some pieces together but also open up more questions that need answered. What is most difficult is finding someone who can answer all the new questions that keep arriving.
I’d love to talk to my brother and maybe I will change my theme of writing to pretending he’s still alive and write him letters updating him on all I’ve discovered about the family we’ve been left out of.
Rock on my pretties!