Why am I here?

I mean, what is the point?

I have dismally failed to retain a connection with my parents and two of my siblings. Overwhelmingly, I feel I never knew them and now, in the light of all that has happened to me these past six months or more, I am firmly convinced they never knew me at all. In fact, I’m not sure they were ever interested enough to try. Far from attempting to comprehend my actions, the decisions I have taken, they would rather conclude that I have changed, been “brainwashed”, become a “bitch”. I have endured more lip-service than a Catholic confessional, more haranguing and imputation than a witch. As long as I was toeing their line, singing from their hymn sheet, praying to their God, kow-towing to their every whim… Worms have emerged from the woodwork of my family that portray my entire personal history in an ugly light. I no longer know who I am or where I came from. It was all a lie.

My friendships are complicated, edgy and fraught with misunderstanding largely, perhaps, due to the nature in which they were formed. Thanks to the desperation of my family relationships and the resultant monstrous compulsion to be loved by whomever I meet at all costs, even my own, any acquaintances I made were born out of prostitution and prostration. I have lived my life subservient and have no knowledge of how effectively to assert my own needs. I now understand those sidelong glances, the strange revulsion I seemed to invoke in some of those stronger, less needy women. Yet, somewhere deep within my soul, there is a strong and vibrant woman, agonising over her route out of this quagmired labyrinth. In the bowels of my psyche I am lost and floundering, on occasion feeling over-powerful, super-capable, raring to go and at others ready to throw in the towel, give it all up and shout “FUCK IT ALL!” over my shoulder as I run. Just run. Anywhere. Nowhere. Somewhere else.

I have had cause of late to reassess everything: my life, myself, my actions, my reactions, my friends, my marriage; my life as a friend, a daughter, a sister, a mother, a wife, a lover. And it is sucking the juice from my brain, the life-fuel from my heart. I can only hope that when it is all through, when this shrunken, chewed-up, dried-out husk of a person crawls out naked and new the other side of this maelstrom, it will all have been worth it; I will have reached some kind of understanding of how to proceed with my life. I will feel less lost, more whole, like I matter.

I have issues of self-worth, self-confidence, self-belief… self, self, SELF. I run the gauntlet each minute of each day of over-analysing every word thrown at me, however casually, to find the implicit criticism, the explicit insult, the proof, once again, that I am not worthy, have no value, don’t deserve to be here, should have buggered off long ago.

Right now, Pluto is giving me a hard time. Can you tell?