The Girl Without A Face

I just got ready for bed. Brushed my teeth, layed down, kissed my almost 16 year old son as he played his video games. I turned 35 years old yesterday, the celebration on a random Wednesday was mild, but it was what you would expect as a 35 year old single woman who had a complete mental breakdown and lost basically everyone in her life just about two years ago. I have one really good friend. We’ve started going to the gym. That gets me out of the house since I work from home full time. I recently during my healing process reached out and reconnected with my sister and my dad – we had been no contact for several years.

But now, just recently, I have realized what a great impact my mothers abuse, the covert abuse, the mental abuse (a lifetime of it) has had on me. I’ve realized that it caused me to pick not so good friendships. That it caused me to stay loyal when maybe I should have moved on. That if I wouldve had boundaries, or knew what they were, or that I was allowed to have them for myself that I would be happier. That maybe the breakdown wouldn’t have been necessary. But it was. And it happened. And now the birthday of no contact with my mom has passed. And I walk back to my room and I lay in my king size bed. Getting ready for my second interview and a possible new job, one that would make me happier. One that would allow to leave my toxic employer of almost 15 years. Now that I am strong and confident enough to filter out all of the abuse. And I look around at my room, at my dog, at my things. I realize that I purchased all of it completely on my own. With no help, no guidance. No support. The subtle belittling, shaming, gnawing away at my self-esteem under the guise of support. The constant guilt. The knowledge that I was never allowed to think or feel differently. The understanding that any time I was struggling I was to keep it to myself. That, I’ve now realized, is not the type of love that I want. The type of love that I want is the love I am giving to myself. Right now. Every day. All the time.