Two years and a half years ago I broke.
I’d spent months and months being semi-wreckless with my good friends Ciroc and Cranberry, and partying. It came to somewhat of a head in June of 2008. I couldn’t get out of bed. I didn’t want to eat. I just laid there crying. Constantly. Uncontrollably. All day for a week and a half. I got it together (somewhat) and started trying to be normal. I went to work again but even there- I would cry sometimes, at random. I wasn’t really talking to anyone I was just teetering there on the line…waiting for something to push me either way.
Then…my roommate kicked me out. Gave me a day’s notice and told me to get out. Never one for dramatics I got a crew together and moved my things that night. That night, I broke.
I moved back home to Atlanta to stay with my parents, something I hadn’t done since I was a teenager and here I was 24. All I wanted to do was sleep. Or die. To just wake up and be above my body…out of whatever fog my life had fallen into. I kept up a very unconvincing charade of wellness, and tried to just remain below the radar at home. Most times it worked. Not one person asked me how I was moving back home. They all wanted to know what was the story? What wasn’t I telling? What really happened with my roommate and I? I got the sense that despite the circumstance…I was the bad guy. I’d hurt him? I chalked it up to the myriad of other things I’d done wrong. I never got angry.
Fast forward to now…Roommate and I have reconciled. Despite all things, my family still thinks he’s some demi-god and has taken to telling me so any opportunity they get; including and especially Thanksgiving dinner. He is (as I’ve been told) my best bet. Complete disregard to my current boyfriend, because I’m missing “it”. The bigger picture. Once again, I’m doing something wrong.
In all this…no one ever asks me anything. My words fall on deaf ears and I constantly affirm and reaffirm my choices as my environment tells me I’m crazy. AM I missing something? I can’t keep asking myself that question.
I want to smash something. There’s a rage inside of me from being ignored, hurt, disregarded, and belittled. Yet, I won’t even allow myself to cry or show anger. They don’t deserve to have hurt me. Stubborn to my very core.