cora-ill

[cora-ill]

11.10.22 brain dump - life lately

I’ve thought a lot about how life shifted for me significantly once I left my childhood era, around late adolescence. I recall reflecting on my life a couple of years ago and first realizing that the shift felt like spending my entire life in a dark gloomy cloud and then suddenly experiencing life in color. It felt like I hadn’t truly lived; that I was merely surviving for the first 18-19 years of my life. I would not go back to experiencing life as a child. I didn’t know joy, peace, or love the way that I do now. I didn’t know light. I didn’t know what any of it truly felt like. I didn’t believe it could exist.

I feel a lot freer now, even when I’m feeling shitty. Nothing I’ve experienced lately has felt as hopeless as I felt growing up. I have a lot of hope that is backed by more recent experiences and faith in myself and life. Having tasted the things that I value, I’m motivated to keep living for the experiences I know to be true now, which I was deprived of as a child. 

I remind myself of these beliefs and my experiences because it can be easy to forget, otherwise. My partner feels hopeless about life and it’s hard to navigate those feelings because my feelings are almost the exact opposite. When I forget to remind myself of who I am and what I believe, I start to absorb my partner’s attitude more, which feels disempowering. I’m hopeful because I know my life will never be the same as it was before, and that is wonderful realization to keep having. I am free to choose my future. My partner is scared and I think reminds me of the feelings of dread that had a chokehold on me when I was growing up. Maybe it’s not a coincidence that I found these feelings in my life again in the form of a partner. 

I’m not stuck, but my partner feels stuck. I wanted to write here solely about myself, but I’m realizing that my life is so intertwined with my partner’s that it would make sense to discuss him too. I’m realizing that this is the person I’ve chosen for life, in a lot of ways, and I know that his views will affect mine. I worry sometimes that I will lose myself. That he will bring about darkness in the form of seemingly harmless shadows that will progressively grow and darken until I forget what the light looks like. I refuse to lose sight of the light. I will continue to seek it out and make more space for it. I haven’t lost it, but I feel it dimming a bit. I can easily bring it back. My biggest fear in the relationship is that... if the light goes away, am I meant to stay? I know that if I have to leave, I will. The line is a bit unclear for me right now. That’s okay. I think it will be okay.

I’ve spoken with my partner about these issues a bit. I taught myself to love myself and my life a couple of years ago, and I knew that it would require consistency and compassion. Diligence and patience. Presence and mindfulness. I’m happy to be reflecting on this now. 

I think I’m more content with my life because I’ve unlearned and learned quite a bit. When I first discovered the freedom of making my own choices and choosing my own life, it felt overwhelming and terrifying. I had spent my entire life fighting against the forces that kept me small and suffocated to the point where I didn’t know what life was like without it. I found strength in surviving. I was a stranger to living. So I suffered for a bit. I felt more hopeless than ever. I only knew my strongest self in the form of a fighter who was being beaten down. Who was I when I was allowed to just exist? I had to find her. I had to nurture her, coax her into the light, and build her up. It was the greatest decision I could make for myself. The most important decisions were the ones that I chose for myself, bravely and (so it felt at the time) blindly--faithfully. I had to teach myself to trust myself by consciously making choices that aligned with my well-being/values. This is how I strengthened my relationship with myself. I was so busy battling external forces, when I was younger, that I didn’t know how to be kind to myself. What a trip it all has been. 

I know I will be okay no matter what happens. I always find my way back to myself. It reminds me of how, with addiction, quitting and then coming back will reinforce the addiction/its affects even more intensely. I think the same applies to me with leaving and coming back to myself. Reinforcing the feeling of being understood, accepted, valued, respected, and loved. 

[cora-ill]

It’s been about 2 years since we’d first stopped talking and about 1.5 years since we stopped being friends. We were best friends. I felt like it was too much.

I’ve never felt this kind of grief before. Or maybe I haven’t felt heartbreak in so long that I’ve forgotten how it feels. I think I’ve cried about this only a couple of times (including right now) since the day it ended. I still don’t quite know what to make of it. I think that’s what makes it hurt more. What the fuck was that? I know we loved each other a lot. We always talked ab our futures in conjunction with each other no matter what else we were planning to do. It’s difficult. A romantic breakup can be painful but it makes sense. You can make sense of it. This, however… I don’t know anyone who has had this experience and I can’t find anything about it online. I’m just here kind of knowing what it was and also kind of not. Best friends. Effectively we were life partners. I didn’t know how to not be too close with her. It feels overwhelming to try to make sense of it. It’s fucking hard being queer. I don’t know who to talk to about this. What questions would help me understand? What did it mean for me? Why were we like that? Would it have been possible to preserve the friendship and be platonic forever? Why couldn’t we have that? What did her friendship mean to me? I didn’t know how to set boundaries in our friendship. That was a big reason I decided to end it. I couldn’t find peace. I could find love, joy, loyalty, intensity, fun, understanding, reassurance, and connection, but I couldn’t find a place to draw the line.

I sometimes wonder if I would’ve wanted a romantic relationship with her, but I can’t imagine that. I could imagine sharing my life with her but not as a couple. So does that mean we were platonic? Our actions didn’t reflect that sometimes. Polyamorous? I’m not sure about that one. So what the fuck. Could not be considered friends with benefits because our relationship was not focused on that—we actually avoided talking about it. That must mean something but I don’t know what, and that’s another thing—we couldn’t talk about these things. I couldn’t comfortably bring it up and we only mentioned it while drunk or in agreeing not to talk about it ever.

So I guess I’m currently having an annual breakdown over the friendship I once had with her. Crying over missing it and her and the lack of closure. How do you find closure when you don’t know? I understand like romantic closure and relationships that were like fwb or purely sexual. But this? This is not a situationship or normal friendship nor a romantic relationship. Time doesn’t heal all wounds. In this case, I’m not quite sure what will.

[cora-ill]

4.18.22 reflection - choice

Everything is a choice, I’ve learned. Love is a choice. Hate is a choice. Kindness is a choice. Happiness is a choice. These things are simple but difficult to understand in the context of one’s own life and circumstances.

I realized that in my process of healing, I’ve learned how to choose love. I have learned how to choose kindness. I’ve learned how to choose peace. It is just like how I’ve also known how to choose malice; how to choose spite; how to choose resentment and hatred. In our lives, one thing we can always control is how we respond to situations. Recently, a huge conflict with a roommate (who I considered to be a close, cherished friend) brought many issues to light and spurred a few revelations for me. I know kindness is a choice because I was able to do it myself.

This person... I no longer consider to be a dear friend anymore in my heart and soul. This person triggered the fuck out of me in the conflict I mentioned above. They treated me like no human should treat another, and not only that, but also the way they communicated to me exposed an extremely skewed and hateful attitude they had been hiding for... I don’t know how long. It was disrespectful and cruel. I have no space and no tolerance for this in my heart. I bonded with them over things like childhood trauma and abusive parents/relationships, so to be treated like this felt like an even worse betrayal because they knew better. They chose to ignore “better.” And this was when I realized that their self-hatred bled into our friendship such that I felt their hatred directed at me. I always choose love whenever I can. There is no justification for continuously choosing hate and malice. This person hurt me very much so easily and quickly, it led to the dissolution of our friendship in my mind. I was caught off guard to say the least.

Having been in similar dark places, I know what it’s like. Having escaped from the deepest, darkest recesses of my mind’s torturous creation, I know how hard it is to escape. I also know that it is possible and I’ve worked hard to get to where I am now. I extend my love on the condition that I am also loved in my relationships. This person directed so much hate and extremely negative energy at me that I was thrown back into that line of thinking--the exact attitudes and mindsets that I’ve worked very hard to unlearn--or at least, they had me dangling off the edge of a cliff above all of that shit. I did not appreciate this one bit. I went through many intense emotional reactions. I was reminded of my past experiences with abusive relationships. While I decided I could not allow this person the space I had previously allotted for them in my mind, heart, and soul, I also decided that I could not allow myself to approach them with hate. I forced myself to figure out how to do this, because my instinct was to throw them the same energy, but worse--a more hurtful approach that I knew I was capable of conjuring. I knew I was strong enough to figure out an approach that was honest and kind, both to myself and the other person, because I decided that this was the final straw for me. I hadn’t felt so severely betrayed and hurt in so long, so I was very proud of myself for approaching it like I did. I deserved to exude kindness. I deserved to choose that over malice. I made sure my intentions were pure and motivated by love. I felt better after I spoke my piece.

I did not respond by matching their energy, because I knew that it would also hurt me more. I knew they could not figure out how to [choose to] give me the same thought, care, and love that I deserved. So, I chose to respond in a way that was incredibly intentional and mindful, because I knew that this would dictate my future. I proved to myself that I could choose kindness in my most painful moments. I’ve built that faith in myself. Now that I reflect more on this particular experience and the choices that I’ve made throughout the years, I can see how far I’ve come. I can see the effort and love and care that I’ve put into myself, my life, and my relationships. 

Love is a choice. Love is a commitment. Love can be difficult in the sense that you have to choose to respond with love rather than hate, which does not come naturally to some (or many). The same goes for kindness. Kindness is a choice. Being unkind is a choice. Approaching conflicts with kindness does not invalidate your feelings of hurt or anger or betrayal, etc, but it does emphasize your ability to rise above hatred. The meanings and implications of these concepts have evolved for me a lot throughout the years. 

I know these things are choices that are entirely in our control as individuals. I know because I chose love and kindness when I felt so hated and mistreated. I’ve chosen love and kindness daily and so frequently that I can confidently say I am loving and kind. Years ago, I wouldn’t have believed it at all. I don’t know what it takes for people to choose love when all they’ve known is how to choose hate. I do know that I was able to make this change for myself. I can have faith that others may do the same, and I also don’t have to wait around hoping they learn to care for me and love me in the meantime. 

The feeling is bittersweet right now, but I am proud of myself. I love myself. I am also careful with myself. I am gentle with myself. I trust myself. Even when I don’t feel this way 100% of the time, it is clear to me that I embody my values more and more the longer I stay committed to them/myself.

[cora-ill]

“when will you love me”

I came across a little comic entitled “when will you love me” depicting a child’s experience of wanting love from an abusive parent: the child still loving their parent after all the pain, not knowing how to earn it, but still thinking somehow they’re still to blame. The artist did a great job of eliciting the feelings of that kind of traumatic experience. I felt these feelings arise within me.

Having been actively healing for years now, I don’t think of my parents as frequently anymore. Years of childhood-adolescent trauma and years of coming to terms with it sucked the life out of me. After I left for college, initially, I felt so much pain living away from them, because I finally had enough space and distance to process it all. I knew that my biggest heartbreak would always be from my relationship with my parents--nothing else could come close to that. I don’t think anything runs as deeply as that, which makes sense. 

I don’t think of it much now, because I’ve gotten better at loving myself. I’ve learned how to love life and appreciate the little things. I’ve come a long way. I am at the point where I don’t regularly wallow in self-pity and wonder when I will be loved or worth loving. I had to learn how to do all of this (and I’m still learning) because simply existing was not enough--I wanted to live. 

The distance nowadays is still helpful in terms of keeping them out of my thoughts on a regular basis. I still have many feelings about my parents that I don’t entertain as often, because they’re usually the same. I can help myself by continuing to do right by me and nurture myself as best as I can. I don’t enjoy entertaining these thoughts because 1) the wound cannot be fixed by the ones who caused it and 2) it really fucking hurts. My heart hurts a lot sometimes when these feelings arise. I think it’s okay, if not necessary, to give myself time once in a while to let out some thoughts and feelings and to validate them. 

The post I came across really hit--”when will you love me” was a perpetual underlying sentiment throughout my childhood. I’m not sure if it will ever truly go away, but I will take that as a sign that I am human and that my heart is pure. Of course, anyone would want to be loved by their parents, because they’re supposed to love you the most. But this post... I think of the phone calls I get from my dad once every few weeks. I can tell he doesn’t really know what to say to me anymore, because our relationship was riddled with conflict throughout my life. I think he feels useless if he has nothing to offer, so he just lectures me about finding a job. He says he will pay for a business suit if I find one that I like. He encourages me to keep looking for a good job and pursue higher education. He says, from now on, I’m financially on my own. When he first said this, I cried afterwards. I cried because all he could ever truly offer me was the financial support and academic advice. I cried for the estranged relationship I have with him, that I always kind of had with him, because when our relationship was at its most intense state, it was full of pain. He was a grown man who did not know life without pain and suffering, and I was his child. We hurt each other, but he taught me how to hurt.

I am at the point where I just feel sad most of the time when I reflect on this, but I was so angry for so long. I still feel angry sometimes, but the underlying feeling is sadness. These phone calls always end with a hesitant good luck message and sometimes an “I love you,” but the “I love you” always feels forced, and I try not to think about why, but I end up doing it anyway. I don’t know if he truly loves me. He never really knew me. I think when I fought him the hardest, he fought for me hard as well (well, just fought me, but that’s the only way he really knew how to ask for love). Now that there is no heat, there is just distance and space, which just exposes the lack of deep connection we have. He doesn’t know how to talk to me without anger. He approaches me with caution, which makes me feel on edge. I pity him. It hurts. I think because our relationship was based on loud and angry interactions, there is nothing left, it seems. I think a quiet distancing feels much sadder than an angry, abrupt end. It gives me time to pity my dad and also wonder why he won’t try anymore. If I don’t initiate a fight, he has no other energy to give. He doesn’t know how to be passionate with love, only anger. Oh. I haven’t been able to put words to this specific realization before. That’s all there really was between us -- anger. And I know him still. I know him very well. He doesn’t know me at all, but I’ve also always known this.

After these phone calls, I’d find myself quietly wondering, “why doesn’t he love me anymore?” I understand why that was my initial reaction. I felt sad. I knew that he’d never truly made me feel loved or cared for, but the lack of intention and weight in his words alarmed me. I only knew his love in the form of anger. This was unfamiliar territory, and it scared me. He doesn’t love me, he doesn’t love me. It is okay to feel this way, I love you. But it hurts so much, still, and I really wish he would. I don’t have him to fall back on. I know he’d let me fall and just stand there asking what was wrong. My dad’s parents left him alone years ago, and I don’t think he’s used to kindness in conjunction with love. I think understanding this helps relieve some anxiety for me, because even though I can’t make him love me, I can understand why it’s not my fault and release that burden. I accept that he won’t love me the way I need, and I also accept that it will hurt nonetheless. I choose to continue healing and caring for myself, because I know it will ease the pain over time. “When will you love me?” is a question that I don’t think I ever asked him. If anything, I told him I hated him. I didn’t. I just hated the fact that he couldn’t love me properly. I truly despised feeling unloved, so eventually I decided to learn how to love myself (and put myself in environments that helped facilitate this). 

Although I have issues with both of my parents, my dad has felt more foreign to me. My mom is an entirely different entity. I am proud of myself for facing these feelings, because it hurts to face my feelings of neglect and abandonment and acknowledge that I do not feel loved by someone who claimed to love me a lot; someone who I’d always desperately wanted to love me. I love myself by choosing myself, instead. I’ve learned that a lot of people have no idea what love is at all, and that my commitment and passion has taken me further than I ever thought I could go. I still grieve the love from my dad that I wish I had received, but I am still able to go on with my life knowing that I can lead a happy, loving life for myself. It hurts and hurts and hurts so fucking much sometimes, but I am glad that the weight is no longer unbearable. I can keep going. I deserve so much love and light and compassion and patience and gentleness and care and more, and I am dedicated to cultivating this within myself and in all of my pursuits.

[cora-ill]

I’ve learned to love myself and my life: a reflection sparked by my upcoming birthday

I often think about my younger self. How does the present version of myself compare to the past? I’ve come a long long way. I realize this again and again in moments of frustration, sadness, fear, etc. I remind myself that as a child, I never imagined that I would reach this point in my life. My younger self held the same convictions and desires and abilities as I do now. However, she only knew darkness and distress, and she didn’t want to live like that. How can you plan for a life from which you desperately want to escape? As a result, she didn’t imagine a future for herself. At this moment, my heart aches for that little girl for doubting herself so deeply that she couldn’t fathom a desirable future. Well, I bet she’d be extremely pleased and relieved to see me now. 

Why would she be proud? Because I proved her wrong. I proved to her that she actually COULD be and DID become the person she wanted to be and feel like. I know her really well, and I think analyzing my past self more may help me better understand my current self. We are the same, but different. I love all the versions of myself because I know that when I was at my worst, I needed love the most. So I will love her. Some days I don’t think I do, but that’s on a temporary emotional basis--at my core, I am committed to loving myself thoroughly. This is how I got here. I grew up “knowing” my positive qualities and abilities but hardly ever believing in myself. I figured it was pointless to have those qualities when there was so much I hated about myself. That was the theme for a while--self-hatred and self-pity, which extended to those around me. Don’t get me wrong, I also exuded lively, fun, and passionate energy. I was always lovable. My issue was not only that I hated myself but also that I desperately wished I didn’t. 

Fast forward to 2 years ago, mid-college, and I made the decision to learn how to love myself. At the time, I held on to any hope I could find, because it felt like I would drown in despair otherwise. I have always been so driven, strong, and resilient, and this was around the time I began to believe it and feel empowered by it more and more. I made a lot of changes, thanks to the pandemic sending me home, and was able to commit to myself. I feel blessed that I had the privilege of time, space, and safety throughout that time, because that was a huge turning point in my life--my intentions and goals, however vague and uncertain they might’ve seemed, began to manifest tangibly. 

Fast forward to now, I have trained myself to treat myself more gently, lovingly, and compassionately. When I find new areas of growth, even if I initially feel discouraged, I always feel empowered and inspired through reflection of my past and how far I’ve come. I’ve already come so much further than I ever could’ve imagined possible for myself, physically, spiritually, and mentally. It is amazing how much I have grown in the past couple of years. I am so impressed when I step back and run through all the stages of my life. I really did that! The little girl who felt completely lost and afraid managed to accomplish so much. It takes a lot of fucking time, effort, dedication, and persistence to travel so far. It is not easy to teach yourself love, compassion, and faith (spiritual, not religious) when you were born into fear, shame, and uncertainty. Your growth and steadfast commitment to love is a testament to your strength, drive, will, and resilience. I am immensely proud of you. I am proud of myself.

It is heartbreaking to think about my younger self; I recognize that now. In the past, I shrugged off my pain and traumas because I didn’t want to make a big deal out of them. In doing so, I made myself very small--low on the priority list--and made sure to do it discreetly. Now, I actively try to validate my experiences and emotions. Some times are harder than others, because that urge to brush it off and move on may come back. Yes, it is heartbreaking. However, it hurts much less than before and feels a bit different. I can feel pain for that little girl but also joy for where she ended up. Her story has many sad, miserable, angry, and lonely points, but it also has so much love, joy, compassion, and light. It has been an honor to be a part of such an amazing story and truly get to know myself. I am so excited to see where we go next.

[cora-ill]

11.10.20 Reflection~

I am not used to being nice to myself.

This year I’ve made so much progress in my journey of healing, self-love, and self-growth. I am so impressed by and proud of myself for this progress. I say affirmations, give myself pep talks, love myself more, and try to be gentle with myself. This is all good. The problem is that adopting a different mindset is really fucking hard. I’ve managed to unlearn some bad habits and tendencies, but some things are so ingrained that it’s difficult to adopt my desired life philosophies. 

I tell myself I deserve it all. I am capable of overcoming anything. I am incredibly strong and resilient. I am loving, caring, and worthy. I am intelligent and hardworking. I have a big heart and I am enough. I’ve been learning to ask for help when I need it. I still am reluctant to do so, but I push myself to do it anyway. This is all true!! I know it is, but part of me is still resisting. I think it stems from my subconscious belief (developed from childhood) that I am undeserving, that no one is going to be there for me so I have to be able to do it alone. Independence is good, but this is not independence, but pride. I feel embarrassment and shame when it comes to admitting my true vulnerabilities. 

I am afraid to let myself obtain my biggest desires and needs because of all the “what-ifs”--I know this is irrational and that I should allow myself these things, but it is so difficult to internalize concepts that I have rejected my entire life. I’m so scared. I’ve been living life so paralyzed by fear of failure that I’ve forgotten how to let myself live freely. I still hold onto the old, sad, dark parts of myself despite how much I want to rid myself of them. The toxicity is most familiar to me, and part of me fears that if I truly let go of the parts of myself that harmed me, I will be losing an essential part of who I am. 

I am working on accepting all these truths about myself so I can truly move forward. At times I feel bombarded by all my fears, emotions, and anxieties at once, and I feel it all so intensely that I become paralyzed--unsure of what to do with myself. I am working on allowing myself to feel and want things without repression. 

[cora-ill]

It’s Mother’s Day tomorrow and I’ve spent a couple hours making a card for you, Mom. I want you to feel loved and appreciated.

I’ve been crying for bit. Every so often when I reflect on my relationship with you or Dad I get very emotional. As much as I see and appreciate all the good you’ve done for me, there has also been a lot of pain that you and Dad always failed to acknowledge.

I always presented as an angry child who hated both of you. My childhood was riddled with hostility and screaming matches between me and you or Dad. Every insult either of you hurled at me, I now realize were just a projection of how you felt at the time. Mom, you looked at me a called me a monster. Both of you have said before that you don’t know who raised me or why I was the way I was. I think both of you were too afraid to openly admit that you failed to raise the daughter you wanted. Instead, you got me. 

The thing is, my angry crying and arguing with you started from such a young age. I did not feel loved. I felt like you didn’t care about me, and I expressed this to both of you for years. In response, you would yell back that you’ve done so much for me and you’ve given me so much, and yes--I know you did. I know you worked so hard to achieve a better life for me and you. But I meant that I didn’t feel like you cared about my feelings, and you never really did. You prioritized your own emotions over mine. Always. So I was loud and angry and upset. I wonder how no one realized my behavior was a reflection of how hurt I felt. I was just a kid. When babies cry, you know something is wrong and you try to figure out what’s wrong and how to help. When I cried, both of you got angry at my outburst. I took up too much space. Dad to this day will say “stop it” to a crying baby because he doesn’t know how to empathize. 

I always wanted a loving relationship with my parents. I always wanted that with you and Dad. I was so angry because all I got from you was anger, mistrust, doubt, and what I perceived to be hatred. Yes, you made sure I was fed, clothed, educated, and healthy. I am grateful. But you made me feel like no one cared about me, or loved me, or believed in me at all. While I know that was not your intention and that you both did your best under really difficult circumstances, you dismissed how i felt every single time I opened up. You thought just because you did everything you could and called it love that I should’ve loved you anyway. That’s not how love works. That’s not how parenthood works. You don’t expect an infant to know your intentions, so you put in the effort to figure out the problem and solve it. It seems like once I passed that age, you didn’t feel the need to understand my problems anymore or help me with them. Instead, you took out your frustrations on me and saw me as a disappointment. Of course I grew up hating myself and doubting myself when it came to anything I tried to do. 

I’ve grown a lot, especially in the couple years I’ve been away from home. I am glad I got help for my mental health. I will continue to work on my growth. At this point, I no longer despise myself, and I love and believe in myself a lot more than I ever have. I was always a fighter because I only ever wanted parents who loved me. Even though I knew you didn’t understand, I never stopped trying my hardest to get you to see me; to see how I truly felt and to care about what I was feeling. To this day, I think to myself that my parents were my first and biggest heartbreak. No one can hurt me as much as you both did. 

I still love both of you. I never 100% hated either of you, I was just so upset and frustrated that you refused to love me the way I needed. I will always have love for you because I don’t have any other parents. You two are it for me. I feel so sad that all these years we didn’t get to love each other properly. I will never stop trying, whether you realize it or not. I’ve shed many tears for you both. I hope that you don’t see me as a failure because I try not to think about things like that anymore. I had to separate and distance myself from you because I could only every associate your mistrust, resentment, and disappointment towards me. I needed the space to heal on my own. It’s not fair to me to continually blame myself for not being able to repair our relationship throughout the years because that was not supposed to be my job as a child. I will stand by my belief that I did my best to be honest and to beg for you to care, and that you always refused to accept it. I will carry that pain for a long time, but hopefully nor forever.

I still get extremely sad sometimes at the thought that you and Dad resented me for being angry at you two, but you always missed the point. I wouldn’t be so angry if I didn’t care so much. I’ve always wanted you two to hear and listen to me and to really try to understand me. In order for me to truly be okay with how our relationship was and is, I would have to stop caring about you both and stop keeping the love I have for you. I think you’d both be happier with me. However, it would be a lie and it is so important for me to live my life being as true to myself as possible. I’ve always wanted a relationship where we both love each other. Not one where you love me conditionally; where you’d only love me if I was obedient and never talked back.

I haven’t had a discussion with either of you about this for a while now. I think I got tired of saying the same things to you both just for you to dismiss what I had to say. But my greatest wish would be for you both to genuinely understand what I’ve felt and what I feel, without making it about yourself--to truly just see me for who I am outside of the context of both of you. And for you to love me unconditionally because I know if you knew everything about me, you wouldn’t even pretend to care anymore.

Even after all these years, and even after our relationship has improved a lot, this is something that still hurts me a lot to think about. I will be okay. I am trying be enough for myself, but I think there will always be a spot in my heart that aches for your unconditional love and compassion. 

Love, your daughter.

[cora-ill]

some thoughts

I’ve spent the majority of my life going through various mental health-related issues and questioning the validity of my problems. Growing up I’d do or say or think some fucked up shit and wonder if I made the problems up for myself, if I was overreacting, or if my problems were actually real. 

I’ve always gone through phases of feeling so sad and empty; feeling like life has sucked the meaning right out of my life--but then I snap out of it, and function normally for a bit again. There will be some periods in which I will feel alright and mostly stable, and then others in which I will feel like everything is falling apart--frantically helpless and lost.

Therapy helped me come to terms with some of my life experiences and behaviors, but most of the time, I’m still at a loss. I think I’ve always fallen prey to my tendency to get lost in my own head and thoughts, having existential/identity crises until I get too tired to think anymore (hence escapism). 

Nowadays I question everything about my life--my experiences, my privilege, my trauma, my friends and family, my purpose. I know it is a waste of time to keep wondering and pondering because, in the end, life is what you make of it and how you choose to live it, but I think the uncertainty of it all inevitably eats away at me no matter how long I try to stay above such manners of thinking. 

I’m just really scared of the future and how my life is going to turn out.

I’ve spent like most of my life with that basic fear, and although it has manifested in a variety of ways and I have grown and changed in other ways, that same fear has stuck with me my entire life. I know I will forget about this at some point, but also that it will come back eventually as well--a perpetual cycle of “I’m ok” followed by “I’m not so sure anymore.” 

Sometimes I feel like the weight of the world is on me, and I can’t shake it, even though I know that I have certain privileges that I should be grateful for and that so many people have it way worse. I hate that I feel this way because sometimes I’ll tell myself, hey, it’s ok--someone always has it worse, and that is not how you should base your own self-worth/feelings. But then I’ll also think, I’m so ashamed that I feel so bad when my circumstances are good, especially compared to a lot of people I know. I’d like to shake myself sometimes, tell myself HEY!! There are people who really love you, and you can make something great out of your life. 

It’s like I pull myself out of one hole and then fall into another.

This is where I’m at right now. I want a future where I can look back at this and think man, I made it out and I’m good. Things are good, and I am okay.

[cora-ill]

It’s my birthday tomorrow and I don’t want to live anymore. I’m so tired

[cora-ill]

Dear Parents,

Next time you call me ungrateful or a “bully,” I invite you to take a look at our interactions throughout my life. I have had to deal with the conflicts between us for as long as I’ve been able to speak. You’ve always been too caught up in your own problems to properly handle mine, I get it, parenting is hard, your life was hard-- but can you pause (I’ve asked this of you countless times) and think about how that affected me?

I grew up accepting domestic violence instead of love, affection, and emotional support as a familial norm. When you two got divorced, violence and instability persisted in my life from two separate sources, neither of which I could find an escape. Most of my childhood memories consist of screaming and anger and crying, both of you losing your tempers, Dad turning it into violence against us. I was a violent, angry little kid. I hurt my friends and I even tried to hurt you, Mom. Neither of you did anything to help me. I had no one to guide me through all of this. Did you really think it was okay to raise a child under such conditions? What kind of person did you expect me to become? You’ve always seen the worst of my temper because it’s always been directed at you. You two had the audacity to ask me who taught me to act like that. Who do you think? Did you think that I wouldn’t grow up and make my own realizations? That you’d be able to pretend I was always going to be young and naive and not understand what you did?  

You gave me horrible anxiety growing up. Mom, you taught me to react to things irrationally because you always put me in invasive or ridiculous situations. Your tendency to be so quick to anger and suspicion towards me affected me daily and impacted me deeply. You ask now why I don’t trust you; that if I don’t trust you, then I must have things to hide. I never did have things to hide until you eliminated all hope of an environment in which I could come to you for support or help. Any time I would try to tell you how I was feeling, how you might have hurt me, how I was hurting, you would take it personally and immediately become defensive and attack me. I am livid just thinking about how little you cared about my emotional well-being that you felt obligated to make everything about yourself. You don’t take accountability for your actions and how you’ve impacted people (me, and probably my little brother). You call me a “monster” when you don’t like what you see in me; when I point out your failures as a mother. The way you behave in front of your children is so important. It affects their behavior and how they grow up to see the world. How can you still not see how huge of a responsibility that is? For a while, I thought maybe I imagined this, that it wasn’t as bad as I thought, but you did not raise a stupid girl. I realized. I could go on and on about things you’ve said and done, like saying “Nobody’s perfect” in response to any confrontation against you about something you’ve done wrong, or telling me before college that you didn’t think that I “suffered enough” in life, so you wanted to make it harder for me because “life is hard.” Thanks to you, I already knew that. You made life hard for me.

Dad, you used to hit us and that is never okay. I’ve always thought of you as a little boy in a grown man’s body because you’ve just always thrown tantrums when things haven’t gone your way. You’ve never known how to comfort someone, and it’s always someone else who has to talk you down. You yell at crying children to “stop crying--” need I say more? The world as you see it very much revolves around you. When discussing any conflict in which you definitely hurt someone you love, you can’t seem to take responsibility. You say, “they misunderstood me. That’s not what I meant. I had good intentions,” ignoring that fact that your actions and words directly hurt someone, and that the impact cannot be changed by your intent. Any time I bring up your behavior in the past as a huge factor of how I feel about you today, you act confused. Both of you do, actually, as if the past just goes away once it passes. Both of you took out your frustrations on me in the form of verbal and physical abuse. It’s disgusting and disgraceful behavior, and the fact that you tried to call it “discipline” would be laughable had it not damaged me so much. That’s not discipline. Neither of you could control your tempers, so you just got angry. No self-control. Neither of you tried to guide me, point out my mistakes and teach me how to fix them. Neither of you ever learned how to be good people, so it makes sense that you couldn’t teach me. I had to learn for myself.

I outgrew the violent tendencies that both of you rubbed off onto me. I am not a violent person. You constantly accuse me of having these bad habits when it comes to dealing with people, but it’s only because you bring out my worse side. No one else really sees me in such a bad emotional state. It’s hard for you to understand my perspective because you know so little about who I am as a person and you haven’t tried to understand. I figured out that the behavior that I used to partake in was simply behavior that you taught me. Today, I’m learning more and more about who I am, and I am as far from you as I can get. I’m constantly defending myself against you because you belittle my problems and try to make me out to be the antagonist in every single argument we have. When will you realize that you can’t keep treating me like a clueless child? I have had to take on the role of a parent scolding an inconsolable child in situations with both of you, don’t act like you’re somehow more mature than I am. I have wasted so much time and energy and effort on you, and you blame me for all my shortcomings and your failed relationships with me, saying it’s “all your fault.” Grow up. I have to repeat myself so much, and you never listen.

My dear stepmom, I thought you could at least try to understand me. You seemed to care the most. But even after I repeatedly tried to tell you what I’ve had to deal with all my life, and that I’ve had depression for who knows how long, you tell me that “parenting is hard and you should be grateful to your mom.” All of a sudden, you think you have the right to keep such close tabs on me and act like you’re “teaching me a lesson,” when all you’re doing is imposing another toxic, strict, controlling parental role into my life. I’ve made it so clear that what I need most is and always has been emotional support, and just when I thought I had one parent who’d try to help me, you turn around and assume that you know me. You do not have the right to control me like this. Growing up, my parents would always tell me that I’d understand when I got older, that I would learn to appreciate them, in response to my stubborn “I hate you and I always will” claims. My feelings about them remain negative. I understand them very well now, but I have very little power to change them. I can’t bring myself to love them for the food, shelter, and whatnot when my quality of life has seriously been tainted by the poison that is their parenting.

I have been bullied by you my whole life. You have no right to call me a “bully” when I decide to stand up for myself. I had to figure out myself that my experiences and feelings were valid, and that I had every right to be angry at you for how you continually treated me. You still don’t seem to mind how you’re treating me now, and if you continue to treat me like this, I will leave you as soon as I possibly can. If one of your goals in life was to have a daughter and push her to hate you and never come back to you, then you’re on the right track. I can’t tell you any different than you want to hear, and I can’t make you change if you don’t want to. You have always been my biggest source of anger and emotional trauma; my biggest heartbreak when I realized I’d never have the loving and understand parents I needed. When I don’t need your financial support anymore, I’m not coming back. We all know that’s all you’ve ever had to offer.

Sincerely, your daughter.

[cora-ill]

when people ask me why I used to self-harm (tw)

I tell them I don’t know. The more realistic answer would be that it was because of how romanticized mental illness and cutting was portrayed online, and I latched onto that. I was an insecure 13 year old dealing with a lot of shit, with no one around me to give me proper guidance on how to deal with my mental health. So yeah, I thought wow, all these people do it and it’s edgy and Sad Girl vibes, so I went for it. It was awful and worsened my anxiety (having to hide the cuts and scars), and I was hooked for several months. I stopped, though, when they started getting too deep, and people caught on. These scars will probably never leave me. It’s been almost 5 years since I last self-harmed, and even after all that time and getting laser scar removal treatment, they’re still there, clear as day. It took me a couple years before I stopped wearing long sleeves everywhere. I regret it so much. I educated myself on issues like this and started going to therapy for related issues, and I get it now. Fuck romanticizing mental illness, because I’m more depressed than ever, and yeah the urges are for real now (I refuse to self-harm ever again). It’s not cute. It’s not edgy. It’s fucking sad and heartbreaking, and to be in the mental state to feel the need to self-harm or to be suffering from any major mental illness is so fucking difficult and debilitating. 

[cora-ill]

I get so sad sometimes that I don’t know what to do anymore.

[cora-ill]

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T.B. LaBerge, Unwritten Letters to You

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The sad truth is the truth is sad.

Lemony Snicket, The Hostile Hospital (via coral)

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