The Need for My Care

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Sometimes… it is all about me.

In my own head, it used to be.  I used to know that if I didn’t think of me, that no one else really would.  So I had to MAKE SURE that at the very least?  I thought about me.  It’s the libra in me.  I’m constantly caring about other… sometimes I’d love for someone else to know how I’m feeling.  How life is treating me.  What I want out of this life.  What are the things that make me happy.  What are the things that make me sad… you know… stuff like that.

But what I find is happening increasingly is this… general lack of concern about how I feel.  About where I fit in.  About my general place in the world.

I am very  much feeling myself disappear a la Back to the Future.   I am feeling myself really being defined as an ancillary character in someone else’s main plot when I most CERTAINLY was the main character in my own life.

I make it a habit to ask the people around me if they are happy…. and if there is anything I can do to be making them happier.  What shocks me most is the lack of reciprocation in said question.  On some “thanks for asking” and keep it moving.  Well… what ABOUT me??  who besides me will ever care about ME and what I’d like?

Me, I guess.

So I’ll list a few things here that I feel, care about, wish for, miss, hate, like very much and that pertain to me wholly.  Whether anyone else gives a shit or not at this point is beyond me.  I give a shit.

I adore my daughter.
No, it does NOT bring me joy to see thousands of pictures of her playing with other people while I work extremely hard to make sure that she wants for nothing.
Yes, I want DESPERATELY to be “brought home” so that I can be her MOTHER and everyone else a bit part player.  I AM NOT LOVING being a supporting role in her life.  A walk on.  An extra.
I hate the confusion at my job right now. It is upsetting me.  I don’t like uncertainty and I’m tired of going through these processes at the places I work.  I would like some stability please.  For at LEAST 3 years before boats go a-rocking
I don’t like the family car.  Having my own car gave me a sense of individuality. I was able to tailor it to what I wanted it to be.  With me being solely responsible for it, it felt like there was something in this world that was truly mine.  This family car sucks… the horn works intermittently and it’s always dusty.  I haven’t melded with it the way I did with Deez.  I miss her.  I miss the “road trip” feeling I got when I got into that car.  I fear it’ll never come back.
I miss being desired.  I miss feeling like the most wanted and beautiful person in SOMEONE’s life.  I miss being chased after.  I miss being caught.  I miss making LOVE.  I miss being fucked.  I miss feeling like a WOMAN.
I hate thinking I have to hate the way I look.  I like my body.  I understand that this world is built for skinny people.  But I love my fullness.  I don’t like that it means that I may potentially die before everyone else.  But I think I’m fierce when I see myself in the mirror in the mornings.  I wish other people felt that way instead of looking at me like they want to offer me some advice.
I miss my mom.  I miss my grandma.  I miss my dad. I miss that undeniable sense of family that I used to have all the time.  The knowing that there were some folks in this world that UNCONDITIONALLY were loving me back.  I miss there feeling like there is a forcefield of protection around me fostered by my family.  I hate that the family is so segmented.  I hate that they all want to blame me for why we don’t speak anymore.  Phones work two ways.  I can’t ALWAYS be the one reaching out.   I hate that in my mind I have to kill those people off so the thought of how they’re treating me without ever interacting with me won’t keep hurting me.
I miss the fun that used to be associated with my sorority.  I miss the TRUE fellowship.  I miss that deep sisterhood.  I hate that I pay them to stress me out yearly.  I hate that they act like they give me a paycheck for the things I do.  I hate that they’ve taken away the little silly stuff that meant a LOT.  I’m really glad that I milked my experience for all that I could while I could and have great memories because I don’t believe I’ll make anymore like that to keep me going for much longer.
I hate feeling like I am disappearing.  It is the feeling that makes me feel MOST like my mom.  I know she hated her life if it weren’t for a few things.  I LOVE LIFE… I have to get back to that everyday.
I miss discovering new music that made me wonder what else there was out in the world beyond what I know.  That made me want to travel and meet new people and explore new experiences.  Everything sounds the same these days
I hate feeling put upon.  Everyone WANTS something.  No one cares what I want.
I hate that I need to drink to feel high these days.  I used to get that feeling just by living my life. (and drinking LOL)
I never felt more beautiful than when I was pregnant with Athena.  It was the very first time in my life I didn’t have to worry about my tummy poking out of my clothes.  It was actually welcome.  It was a serious denoument after her birth to go back to being criticized instead of celebrated.
I hate that I think my baby doesn’t know me.  She takes time to recognize me still sometimes.  (mostly when she’s tired).  But still… I want to feel like… her MOTHER… no higher title. the word for God on the her lips until she can learn other wise.  Not because i want to control her or dominate her… but because I remember the comfort of having someone like that on earth with me.

Well… that’s it for now.  I think I’ve made space in my head for some new thoughts.  I would normally insert the promise here to blog more.  But I just don’t care right now.

And that’s real.




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