*1PM tomorrow. I will see if the homeless shelter supports me while I reprogram my thoughts. *
Would you sacrifice your own life for your parents when they paid for you to come out of ignorance? Think of how you will suffer more.
Or would you leave them behind in ignorance because it is the job of parents to give their child a life? Think of how you will suffer because they do.
I want an independent life. I don't want to live through fear, as they do.
There must be a middle ground; but I'm unsure if it's possible without escaping first, learning how to live that way, and then returning to visit my parents (and discipline them) on holidays.
Otherwise I am a pawn for them to consume. When my confidence is gone from within me, they will move me within one of their properties to dwell in the darkness of that small town.
It happened before: 2005, an accident with alcohol, feeling confused by my feelings of love for three different women (modeling dad's affairs); 2009, the economy crashed when I was taught life would be handed to me, falling into a deep depression over an ex-girlfriend and surrogate mother; 2010, when I needed resources that I must go and beg for rather than be given from a guiding hand; 2012, when I finally truly escaped and I found the depth of my emotional problems, craving more therapy. (There is obviously a pattern of wanting help during turmoil that cannot be given.)
It happened just now. I spent hours confronting my father after suddenly finding the strength. He mourned, I mourned, and there was a bond built. He wanted to go to my therapist with me. But he called today and repeated his childish behavior, and I had to leave because I had another traumatic flashback from something he did.
It was because I felt superior to him in knowledge, and I remembered being scared as a kid and living in isolation. It meant he still doesn't care enough to protect me or to think about me. He's still self-centered, even if he actually suggested something that would only cost a blow to my ego.
It means I would have to ask my roommate to live longer in a place where I take baths in the morning in the filth of roommate's body hair and skin flakes. It's all over the floors, crevices, walls, and shower; in his spit all over the mirror; and amid the smell of his shit coming out from a toilet half-flushed. I talk to him, but he does not listen or remember to be cleaner because these changes are not important to him.
What would that mean if I was stinky, didn't listen, and insensitive? I wouldn't get a job working in IT, like him. That's not where my skills are. So I must care, know my feelings, and endure the bad hygiene of another person.
I'm mad because I'm obsessive, and that's where the problem lies.
I am obsessive because I am also scared, like my father. I learned from a very young age that the world is not a safe place. But it is, and now paranoia rules our life instead of works as an analytical skill.
Perhaps going back and accepting life in that small town, meeting a woman who values me despite her intelligence or appearance, and starting a life would be foregoing fear.
But when you're dumb, you upset a lot of people, you neglect your children at the whim of your emotions, you make more mistakes, and you work jobs and play sports that injure your body. It is a real fear and I live with the consequences today.
I must go to the homeless shelter and break the family cycle. Once I build a new life from there, I'm only treating my family with monetary support, for that will allow me to one day support my children with the love and guidance I never had with my father. My son will be able to have the confidence to go out into the world, make mistakes, and grow from them. He will know the meaning of a healthy relationship.
How long will I search for help when things get hard, beating myself before taking the beating from others? I seem so sure that the beating I give myself will be less than the beating the world will give me. When I do it, I am dramatic and childish, pleading and fawning. I am manipulative. I do not live by the old codes of honor, nor do stay passive to get ahead in the world. I am like Scar on the Lion King... whereas I would rather be like Rafiki!
The key is to learn to live with less. Emerge with freedom from the bonds of my emotional wounds. Return the love to the community that family would only spend on themselves. I don't need to fall into their bad habits for my sisters already have volunteered their legacy and continued their gene pool, which is what they find important.
THIS IS MY JOURNEY. I will educate women to be assertive and men to be sensitive -- so they can find balance. One day, I may help out my sister's kids -- who must earn my respect -- or have kids of my own.
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