The Tornado of Destruction

I just do not know what is wrong with me. There must be something wrong.. right? How am I ever meant to trust people when I don't even trust myself. How am I ever meant to believe I'm lovable when my own parents can so easily disassociate themselves from my life? The people who never really wanted me anyway. How am I meant to love myself, when I have never been shown what it is to be loved? I wish I knew what it is about me that is so not worth fighting for. What is it about me that people find so easy to discard and not pursue? Am I really such a bad person? And if I am, is that because I've never had anyone fight for me, no one to show me how to be loved, how to love, how to not be a bad person? What have I done so wrong? Was I a really fucking bad person in a past life? Am I simply paying for my past crimes now? So here's me, cruising along in life, going OK. I was getting to hang out with my dad and the family fairly regularly. Not as regularly as I'd like, but better than ever before in my life since being a kid. I had my Mum, and things were cruising pretty smoothly with her which was in and of itself quite the miracle and I was really enjoying it. I was married, had 3 kids, got along with the father of my first child really well. Then somewhere along the line things began to fall apart. I can't even pinpoint when it happened or how. I actually ponder if it was caving in and agreeing to go on anti-depressants. I let the dr convince me, and I let me deep boned fatigue convince me, oh and the two nights in a row I was up at 1am convincing myself NOT to kill myself, that my kids really did need me even though for those two very dark nights not even the thought of hem stopped me from wanting to kill myself. I was so tired. So tired all the time. It isn't easy functioning when you are tired. No matter what the cause of you being tired is, it is really difficult to function. So I went on anti-depressants and discovered I had sleep apnea. In the meantime I lost my license, but that was trumped by me getting a regular gig that earned me a regular income. Soon after that, I got a mortgage. My own home! No more inspections and paying off someone else's mortgage. No more moving! So what if I still wasn't happy despite the therapy and the medication. Then my god-mother gets cancer and decides she doesn't want anything to do with me anymore, she doesn't have time for me anymore, because I refuse to leave my husband and she thinks I'm not standing up for myself and I'm just playing the victim. Whatever, I wasn't that close to her anyway. She only became my god-mother cause she felt sorry for me and was my sisters god-mother anyway. It was a pity god-mothering. That seemed to start this domino affect. This cascade of what-the-fuckery. Before too long I somehow ended up cutting my mother out of my life. She started up her usual narcissistic borderline personality disorder bullshit that I had been in a dance with since I ran away to live with her when I was 13. I don't even rightly recall how it came to be anymore, but I do know that she gave me the option and I took it. She never fought to stay in my life, she just played the blame game, projected her shit on to me, blamed me, named me the monsterous daughter. Instead of trying to work shit out, she pushed me further away and I took my opening and ran with it. For the most part life is a lot easier without her in it. For the most part. There are still times I really wish I had a mummy. When I'm sick. Or when my marriage is falling apart and no matter how much you wish it was salvageable you know deep down it's not because he is just like all the others in your life who don't bother to fight for you. I'm sure he thinks he fought for me, and in his experience he probably did... but that wasn't my experience. Within the very same week shit hit the fan with my father. I guess I'd had enough of always being the one making the plans for family bbq's and b'day dinners. I had had enough of us always having to be the ones to go and visit them while none of them ever bothered to come and visit us, and thinking that getting to spend time with his grandkids while I was at work would be a welcomed experience, only to find out it was a hassle. That just like me, my kids were unwanted by him. After a very abusive phone call that pretty much ended with him telling me to fuck off and stay the hell out of his life, I have never heard from him again. It's been about 3 years by now since I last spoke to him, and at least 4 years since I last saw him maybe. I managed to stay in contact with the oldest of the brothers, and the 2nd oldest of the brothers for some time, but eventually I got rid of the oldest of the brothers because it was his wife I was in contact with not him, and no matter how much I asked for our kids to hang out her response was always, oh there's plenty of time for that. The 2nd oldest of the brothers eventually blocked me on facebook so there was no more messaging him. Apparently I'm not good enough for anyone, and no one else is good enough for me. Projection much, Unworthy Art Therapist? So there I was, 2 major players and a minor in my life, all eradicated like a tornado swept through my life and left that part of it completely destroyed and in utter ruin. I was left wondering who was next. It didn't feel like it was finished. I wondered about my sister, the best friend I would ever have in my life. My husband, the one I had been skating on thin ice with for years. The woman who called herself my friend I think only because we had known each other for 30 years. I hoped for none of them. But my intuition was right, the tornado of destruction wasn't done with me and my connections yet. Time is a blur as I sit here in the future. I have no idea how long it took, but sure enough the marriage ended. A seemingly innocuous night I had designed as a way to spend some quality family time together, get to know each other a bit more, give the kids some space to air any grievances they had. Then without so much as an inkling of pre-thought I called DIVORCE! It was no pre-planned in any way. In fact if you'd asked me just 10 minutes before I sat down with everyone in the lounge room I probably would have said the marriage was going pretty well. Yet something inside me snapped. So hard. Like a rubber band that just couldn't take the strain anymore. I gave way. The kids fled, then I fled to the garage knowing it was my deepest truth and that I just couldn't take it anymore. I had fought long and hard and felt like I hadn't gotten anywhere. I had begged and pleaded for his help for years to no avail. I was done dancing. I was defeated. So began the long hard process of extricating myself. Of finding my feet. Finding my independence. Having faith that I could even do this again... this being alone in the world thing. Yes, I had my kids, but really I was alone. So very alone. Possibly more alone than I had ever been before in my entire life. I had thought I was alone before, but now, now I truly was. Yet still somewhere in the back of my head a little voice asked, who is next? No. I'm done, I said. Yet there was still this niggling. For a minute I thought it was my sister. We didn't speak. We didn't connect. And in all honesty, we still don't. I love her so much and I know she loves me, yet she is not supportive at all. She has nothing for me if I ever bother her with my issues. She has nothing. But our tenuous relationship still remains. As long as we don't talk about me. As long as we don't talk about my marriage or how I'm feeling. As long as she can talk about her entanglement. As long as she can still have a bitch about her son and our mother, all is well. So I try not to talk about me. I don't talk about my marriage at all with her. I pretend that I'm ok. But I'm not. So while her and I are on solid enough, if not shallow, ground, the same can't be said to my friend of 30+ years. I stopped trying to be in her life almost 20 years ago now. I realised the only time we hung out is if I contacted her and arranged something. This was back in the years before facebook. So I stopped. That was all. I just stopped. Then I moved. And moved. And moved. And eventually I became pregnant with my first son. It was during the pregnancy that she rang my mother who I just happened to be living with at the time and we reconnected. With our babies who we always said we would have at the same time. It seemed so kismet, that we would, despite our 2 year hiatus, end up pregnant at the same time with sons. So our relationship began again. However, I have discovered, yet again, that our relationship is still very one-sided. I feel like I did all the given and she did the taking. I discovered face painting and immediately told her about it. She discovered Isagenix which really could have helped me out and the woman who got her on to it is who contacted me about it... not her. I thought about doing Kahuna massage, she said she had already been looking in to that. She never told me about her psychosomatic stuff until she'd already signed up. I discovered lifebook, I told her about it. I find websites for cheap art supplies and I tell her about it. She keeps everything she does to herself... unless of course she needs me to be another warm body. But if it's something that might benefit me like it benefits her, I may as well be listening to crickets. That's not even to mention the two regular occuring jobs that she has now taken over from me without a word about it. Now, I wouldn't have minded at all... if she'd bothered to actually talk to me about it either time. The first time I had to find out in a very roundabout way that it was her, and the 2nd time she actually txt'd me to see if I would do one of the jobs.... When another lady rang me first to let me know at least, that she had been approached. Then when I decide I can't tolerate her affection, she says nothing. She has not approached me to talk to me at all. When I was disinvited to partake in the latest gig she hasn't contacted me about that at all. It feels like we may as well have no history at all, it feels like I am not worth fighting for, just like the rest of them. So, while she is still in my life on facebook and for the sake of our daughters who adore each other, I am done with her. I am done fighting for our relationship. I am done being the one who always fights. So now here I am, I have countless people no longer in my life, but I have no one replacing them. I am being left more and more alone. Sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss with no support. No one to help me get through. The people who ask if I'm ok don't really want to know that I'm not OK. Because when they ask, it's not at a time where I can say no and break down. It's at a time where I have to say, yeah I'm good and pretend that everything is hunky dory. I don't want to kill myself. I can safely say that because I know what it feels like to really want to end it all. I know what it feels like to have a very detailed plan of how I would execute it right down to knowing the exact knife I would have used and I am not like that right now. Not yet. But I am sad. I am so sad. I am heart-wrenchingly sad. I am alone. I am unworthy. I am the unworthy art therapist, forever more.