“everything was fine until you came along”

i wrote this whole huge massive entry a week or so ago during a fight between me and ST but then he came into the room and closed the screen and hugged me and said sorry.

something weird happened when he was hugging me. he wouldnt let go, perhaps because of the guilt he was feeling, and i felt suffocated. literally had a literal panic attack and tried to force him to let go. i was scared. i couldnt breathe. i felt unbelievably trapped. if i didnt love him i would have been more violent. i would have screamed for help.

it was the same argument we had had before. about him being uncomfortable at my flat. i didnt let him make me take the blame this time. i told him he was being ridiculous. and after a rant about how much of an idiot he was being, i begged the question i have been asking my whole life.

why does everyone see the worst of me?

in fact, here is the entry i wrote.

5th September 2010:

i dont know what it really is about me that makes everyone want to believe im a bad person. i really dont know. ive been battling it for years. i cant say a fucking thing without people deriving any negativity from it they can.

apparantly i dont make ST feel comfortable at my place. the first time, it was because i asked him to help me out in the kitchen when i was cooking. wait, let me rephrase that, when i say help out, i dont mean DO anything, i mean, sit there and just keep me company.

but hes oh so tired after work. and hes oh so sick of hearing me tell him to do stuff when he gets back. HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW? did he ever say “bub, im just too tired, not today”. yeah he did once, and hey, yunno what i did, i backed off. i hugged him. i kissed him. i told him to relax while i prepared dinner. i would prepare dinner. i would clean up afterwards. the ONE time i kindly asked him, “hey bub, do you mind helping me with dinner tonight”. all i asked him to do was wash the bottles. i have about 5 million things to watch and look after in the kitchen when im cooking, and hey, washing the bottles is one of them. i told him once. he sat down to have a drink, he asked me if i wanted him to move, i said “no, in a bit maybe, but youre going to get up to wash the bottles anyway, so dont worry”. I DONT MAKE HIM FEEL COMFORTABLE. because i said it twice. does he hear me out? no. he fucks off. becomes moody. he convinced me that day that im a bad person. he let me spiral and think i was a bad person. because i asked him to help me. i pinched my leg till i couldnt feel pain. i hit my head. i thumped my thigh. im a fucking bitch.

and today its because of the washing machine! i dont make him feel comfortable because the ONE time he asked me if he could wash his shirt in the machine, i said, hey dont worry about it, i’ll put it through with my clothes. did i say, NO bub, YOU CAN NEVER USE THE MACHINE.? did he follow up and say “hey bub, i actually kinda need to do it today”. NO. the next morning, he washed it himself, in the bath, and i even fucking asked him the next morning, hey bub…why did you wash your shirt..? why didnt you just let me do it for you? did he say “because i needed it kinda urgently and you werent putting a wash on last night”. NO. he said “i was in a rush”.

so please explain, how the FUCK am i supposed to know he needed it urgently? after that, he NEVER asked me. he dealt with it his own way. i figured hey, whatever works for him. as far as I KNEW…if he needed something washed, he just put it in the machine, and would say “btw, i put my shorts in the machine, just wash them please”. i figured hey, i guess he just doesnt trust me with his shirts.

apparantly…NO. he thinks im a big bitch that wants him to constantly feel like he has to ask me everything. because, I AM THAT KIND OF PERSON. i am a BAD person that wants everyone to ask me everything. i want to have control and power over everything and everyones lives. im that horrible. im just a bitch.

on top of that, because he thinks all this stuff about me, because he makes all these assumptions about what im thinking and feeling, im the horrible person.

 

i havent re-read it. and i dont think i will simply because i know im easily influenced by the things i write, and reading back makes me become who i was. if only for a split second.

everythings been fine since. normal. happy.

every relationship has fights. you just have to sort it out and move on. the only thing that troubles me is that when we have fights, he doesnt say anything, he backs off and pretends to not care about me and pretends that he never has cared about me. whereas i fight. i scream and shout and cry. and then i wonder why he would rather slip out of it cooly than fight with me. for me. for us?

 

i graduated. it was an ok day. nothing huge or tremendous. it kinda felt like a mock-graduation. the real things in 3 years.

i think everyone thinks i have unloving parents. they breezed in at the start of the ceremony, and at the end, patted me on my back and breezed out. should they have milled around and spoken to no-one about nothing important and tried to eat food they couldnt eat? nah. it was already 9pm. what was the point? its always been like that. they dont like to hand around and make idle chit chat. they prefer to be elusive and unknown. no wait. DAD likes to be elusive and unknown. and Mum wishes her husband would stick around so she had the confidence to actually talk to people.

and mum. my little mum. i cried the other day. i wept. out of nowhere. im fucking scared. and thinking about it now is making me cry again. she had a blood transfusion to fix her anaemia. but her anaemia is of chronic disease. my mother has chronic disease. she has diabetes and heart failure. im scared to look up the post-pacemaker survival rate. i dont want to know. and im scared that when im on cardiology, theyll tell us, and i’ll have to leave the room. leave the room full of people i dont know. my mum has anaemia of chronic disease. i could hear a shift in dads voice when he said it. “i cant see you…your mum has her appointment at the hospital for her transfusion”. something changed and he sounded….like he didnt want it to be happening. guilty perhaps.

and then i just started crying. theres a picture of her. from a long time ago. from before i was even conceived. shes sitting on a roadside wall in some place in britain with dappled mountainous scenery. shes wearing a peachy-gold sari. and shes looking at s

omeone and laughing. and i have never seen her look so happy and beautiful. and i would stare at the picture and be envious and resentful that i had none of my mothers features. that i looked NOTHING like her. that i had nothing of hers. and i would hope that one day, when i was married, i would have a friend that would make me laugh, and my husband would take a similar picture. and he would love me in it. and say we should get it enlarged and framed and put it on the wall for everyone to see. because i know that my dad gets the same feeling i do when he sees that picture. i know he knows he married a beautiful and happy woman. and i know hes glad he did because of everything shes given him.

and then i remember that my dad took my mums jewellery. that he asked to divorce her. that he broke her to pieces. and that i will never see my mum smile like that again. i will never see my mum look so happy as she did in that picture. and i cant stop crying. and the tears keep falling and i weep for the loss of her inherent happiness. the stuff she was known for. the reason why an aunty, when she died, told her daughters to go to my mum, because she would look after them if they needed anything. she told them to go to my mum, because my mum was more of a sister and a good woman than anyone in her own family.

my little mum, who bruises herself because shes so lonely.

and then i thought maybe she’ll be happy again when i get married. she was that happy at my brothers wedding. maybe i can give her that happiness too. but she has anaemia of chronic disease.

there are so many pictures of my mum from before i was born that i used to look at over and over again to understand her. she always looked happier in those pictures. i dont remember many from after i was born.

my mum always says i was a blessing in the house that made the money start coming in.

i cant help but think i was a curse that caused my family to rip apart. the more hours my dad worked. the jealousy my sister grew. the flippance and pressure that came upon my brother because of the fact that i was another girl and not a boy.

and suddenly i feel like i can understand those questions ive been trying to answer for the last 2..maybe even 10 years of my life. why does everyone see the worst in me? what did i do wrong to deserve everything that happened to me?

its all my fault in the first place. i was born a shining light that blinded everyone. my mum always tells me that my brother is her diamond, my sister her rare black diamond, and i her emerald.

theres a fine line between blessings and curses. i straddle it.