During a phone conversation a couple of weeks ago, my father told me I'm "a knife in everyone's back."
Ever since then, those words have been repeating over and over in my head: "I'm a knife in everyone's back... in everyone's back... "
Many times over these past twenty-five years, my father has reminded me that I'm a mistake, a stupid mistake he made when he was young and irresponsible.
He's right. I am a knife in everyone's back. I am a mistake--a burden. I'm a useless, worthless, fat, disgusting, filthy, waste of space. Neither my father nor mother wanted me when I was born.
I was hoping that EMDR and the film project would help to heal me and create a purpose for my existence.
But today, this day, I sincerely feel that I'm so screwed up, nothing will ever be able to fix me.
I've prayed so long for a mental and physical healing, but it hasn't come. I'm still so very ill.
Those who say, "Just hang in there," are people who know what it is to be loved. They have no idea the profound pain of being rejected by every single person in your family. I've counted TEN people (all my living relatives that I'm aware of) who have let me know that they care nothing for me and don't want me in their lives. My father, mother, five siblings, uncle, grandmother, and late grandfather have rejected me.
And those who say, "You can create your own family," usually have real family members in their lives who love them.
I feel so alone.
Recently, I found my grandfather's obituary on the internet. He died in 2003 and my father didn't even tell me. The obit neglected to include me as one of Grandpa's grandchildren. It's as though I don't exist at all--like I'm a big nothing.
It's such a struggle every day just to remain on the planet. I'm just so tired of the pain--every flippin' day--I hurt so much.
I'm tired of suffering. I know Jesus suffered. And all the saints suffered. But I'm far from saintly and I don't like to suffer.
My spinal and joint issues are getting worse and it's harder to walk on the street. I now doubt that there will ever come a day when I won't wake up feeling as though I ran the NYC Marathon the day before. Or a day when it doesn't cause excruciating pain to walk just a block or go up and down steps.
I don't think there will ever come a day when someone will find me worthy enough to share a holiday (without expecting a sexual payback). Or when I'm invited over to someone's home for dinner. Or when someone gives me a birthday party. Or when I can just say, "I'm going out with some friends tonight."
I don't know a lot about friendships. I spent about thirteen years of my life in a 9 x 10 room. With the exception of school and the library, that's where I spent most of my time. I was forbidden to eat in the kitchen. Forbidden to sit in the living room. Forbidden to close the bathroom door. Socializing was very rare. So I never learned how to make and keep friends.
I witnessed horrendous bloody brawls between my father and mother. I witnessed my mother beating my sister. And though my mother abused me too, seeing and hearing my mother and sister being beaten was so much worse.
I've been trying so hard to get well, but I'm still sick.
Sometimes I'd just like to sleep and sleep and never wake up. Or better yet, wake up as a different person--someone who is loved and wanted and valued--someone who has a family.