Ugh some more. I don’t feel free, that’s why this word is crap. To any onlooker, I absolutely am. And fuck, get over yourself pocketbrit, first world problems right here…compared to so many people out there you are so damned free and should be grateful, not here, moaning, yet again.


But actually, screw that too, I’m reflecting on a word, that’s all, and like I said, I don’t feel free. I feel trapped in a life that I don’t seem to be able to have control over; I know, logically, that I do make many minor decisions all the time which place me in control of my life (which therefore should infer freedom, and yet, it really doesn’t feel that way). I don’t feel like I am able to know what to do with my life, I don’t feel like I am capable of risking things and giving things a go if there’s a potential for failure. I don’t feel like I can escape my current reality of remaining in the town where my parents live, working in their business and seeing them regularly. Isn’t that so weak? Seriously pb, grow up…if you want to do differently, do it. Nobody else can do it for you and you can’t blame anybody else for not doing it yourself.

But its not really about that…I absolutely am a coward in ways, but this is trauma, this is attachment, and screwed up family dynamics, and the recent aftermath of telling my family (sort of…all they’ve made me do is keep it a secret from other family members that they consider more important…my abuser being one of them). This is the fact that the family I belong to, the only family I have, and perhaps the only family I will ever have, want to keep me quiet, want to ignore my pain, push it aside, tell me its no big deal, that he matters more. And I feel trapped. My emotional freedom perhaps, (at some point in the future, and likely not ever fully emotionally free), lies in leaving them and living a life where I am not forced to keep the most vile family secrets. And yet, that’s a life without a family…maybe that’s freedom, but what does that involve giving up? Won’t I feel so alone? Won’t I miss all the good times? Won’t I think of them all the time? Won’t I wish I hadn’t given them up? Won’t I wish I could take it all back, just for one moment of feeling like I belong somewhere, even if I’m only allowed to belong if I keep my mouth firmly shut? But also, do I even really have those things by staying?


I also don’t feel free in my body. Especially lately. My one body feels like it’s containing several people. Several people that I’ve on and off acknowledged are there for a couple of years, but that’s 98% off and only 2% on until recently. Now it’s about 85% on and all I want to do is revert it back to that comfortable 2%. I have an image in my head of an old wooden trunk in a loft….i’ve picked up my wee one and put her in there, upset though she always fucking is. I’ve told my young one to get in, she doesn’t talk much, and she’s just gone in, eyes watching me. My sullen, ‘told-you-so’, sarcastic, detached, scary one gets in on her own accord, like she expects it and is rolling her eyes and shaking her head, and seething at me, for never stepping up and helping, for always being a disappointment. And finally I scream and shout at my teen, who argues back and rages. She won’t get in, not without me physically forcing her. And that’s exactly what I want to do. I want to get her in there and push her back, and put my foot on her and hold her down if I have to and put all my weight on the lid of the trunk to try to close it fucking shut, even though it can’t really fit all these stupid people to begin with. I want to scream back at them, to tell them to get lost. That I want nothing at all to do with them. I want them gone. I want them dead. And I’m meant to be the one in control, the one that gets by and lives our life, and is functioning. Not so functioning, is it, to be scared and spinning because I can’t shut my brain up?

So, this doesn’t feel like freedom. This feels like being locked in a cage with people I really don’t like and don’t want to have to interact with, yet are coming right up to me and crying/raging/talking incessantly in my ear. I want quiet, but I can’t have it.

4 thoughts on “Freedom

  1. oh my love.

    i wish there could be quiet for you, too, so you can think, so you can know what’s what, and what’s yours and what’s theirs, what makes sense, and what doesn’t. what’s mean and what’s more kind. to be locked in a cage/body with so much noise…so much feedback all the time, and so much interference, sounds fucking hard hard hard. of course you don’t feel free. who would?

    the swing from 2% conscious to 85% conscious of the others is a huge one, dear one. of course you want to shove everyone in a box, of course you wish for stillness and quiet. how are you supposed to make these huge decisions, these massive choices, with everyone weighing in all the time? i don’t know the answer, but i do know that you will do it. because you’re one of the strongest people i know. you are strong and sweet and kind and gentle and loving and angry and determined and raging and beautiful. all of them. and, one by one, you will befriend them all, you will join forces, and you will know what is best to do. i know this, down to my bones i do.

    and i will be here for all of it. all the decisions. all the scared, the sad, the anger. all the staying or going. i know you don’t feel free but you are heading there, friend. you are not alone in it this time. right here, with you. can you feel me? xo


  2. Ugh I was being horrible, I’m sorry. They haven’t even been all noisy at once, but I don’t want to have any of it, I don’t want any noise. I’m just annoyed and angry and not wanting this stuff.

    You know what sounds like freedom? Winning the lottery and getting the hell away from here and going somewhere warm and by the sea, where I have tons of money and we can visit each other as much as want. Sounds great.


  3. Yeah. Can you maybe start buying lottery tickets and I will too?

    And you get to be annoyed and angry. No one would want this. You’re not horrible that you don’t. Still right here. Xo


  4. I think in the end it’s more lonely to stare through the glass at what looks like “family” and feel the whole in your heart where their complacency is than to just speak out loud “my family of origin isn’t really family at all.” I totally get there’s a million practical reasons why you can’t do that until you can make it independently, but in the meantime, at least I can say for the wondering of what the other side is like, that it is lonely to acknowledge you don’t really have a family of origin that loves you and protects you. But it’s less lonely than pretending you do anyway.

    Liked by 1 person

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