Whoever was handing out my 30th year, you have won, by the way. I turned 30 in a freaking psych ward with a black forest from my then-husband. Apart from losing my job and everything else, I was 5 minutes away from check myself into a freaking rehab two weeks ago because your sister over here is apparently considered to be an alcoholic!!!!!!!!!! After realizing that the institution’s owner was broke and full of poop, I hang up, schedule a call with my therapist, and put my ass back into bed.
To whoever was handing out my 30, kudos.
The anger that is within my body is ridiculous. And I cannot let it out because some uninformed humans are waiting to take me back to the psych ward or rehab. God forbid the trauma in your body catches up with you after years of suppression. And more so if it comes out as anger, pain, sadness, and a large portion of retribution. Molestation, witnessing and experiencing things a child should never have within the home, rape, domestic abuse, low self-esteem, self-sabotage- you name it, has been stewing for so long that only one phrase remained, “Scotch the earth.”
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. And I have been scorned.
As with everything I write, I do it for, one, pure compulsion, and two, an inability to stay silent because there’s no way I am the only person on this planet dealing with that I go through. It is to tell that one person, I hear you, and I see you. I feel your pain. I can not take it away from you, but I can walk with you.
And that’s the kind of support system I’ve been blessed to have. It is an odd mix and match, but in the end, it’s working out for my sanity. It is these people who tell me that I am not crazy. These people tell me that my anger and pain are valid even when those around me want me to shoosh it. They rally behind me as I walk through the years of trauma that people will never know anything about because who empathizes with someone from my parent’s financial background? I have been opinionated and vocal about many things, so hey, that’s that crazy bitch, don’t mind her, she just wants attention!
I don’t have the answers right now, but what I have done is scotch the earth because I am tired of adopting a reaction formation response. Showing my true feelings will get me ostracized from people within my family, both nuclear and extended. Let me put patriarchy in there because, my goodness, the men in my life have spectacularly failed me. And guess who has to fix me? ME. So while I am here allocating blame, I am aware that healing is my job to do. I don’t need to remain a victim. But you! I will speak up!
I have to be true to what is going on within me and damn the consequences. I have given it up because I learned in class that you are only meant to have your defense mechanisms up for a short time as your body recovers from the information received. Anything longer than that causes mental disturbance. CASE IN POINT *pointing at self*. I am giving that defense mechanism up no matter the consequences. I can’t live like this.
You want to demonize me; that’s cool. Do you. Do your worst. I have been living in mental hell for a long time; nothing can be done to make this shit worse than it already is. Since suicide has refused to be an option (and not from lack of trying), I choose to face all of this head-on.
Here is how I am choosing to see this, with a bit of help from google.
“Slash and burn agriculture is a widely used method of growing food in which wild or forested land is clear cut and any remaining vegetation burned. The resulting layer of ash provides the newly-cleared land with a nutrient-rich layer to help fertilize crops.”
This metaphor just came to me as I was writing this, but it’s a fitting complement to the scotch the earth mantra I’ve adopted. It’s probably going to be hell and probably worse than I feel right now, but that’s okay. I am daring to hope. And If god-forbid I don’t make it, know I tried my best, and you too can succeed.
Cheers, to a year I refuse to have again.
But for real, 30 has been mostly rubbish. I am all here for the growth, and I love it, but it’s really been rubbish.