Journal. This likely won't make sense to anyone. No reply needed. Just needed to sit and write... I continue to be surprised at the grief I feel for what I lost as a child. I never had considered that there were 'losses' there but there were. And I'm wrapping my head around how they affected who I became; the way I interact with my H. I guess this is all part of the process. I can see how it's moved as I read my journal. Moving away from my head; trying to understand my mom's side - trying to 'figure her out'- what topics would make her mad? When should I say this? I shouldn't say 'this', I should pretend I don't think 'that'. And then a few weeks back I saw a glimmer of the crap and deception it all was. All the tip-toeing, the placating, the swallowing blame, anger and accusations that were thrown at me... none of that was ever mine to deal with.

And that's when it actually began to hurt. Things that I looked back on that I thought, 'There's no need to hurt... it didn't hurt then so hurting over it now is just making a big deal out of nothing'; or, 'I shouldn't feel hurt over this - other people have had it much worse' Well I was wrong. They did hurt. I just couldn't feel it back then.

So now I sit and hurt. And as sh*tty as it feels it also feels good in a weird way. Like now I'm actually hurting for myself and what I lost, instead of the hurt that comes from trying to understand and accept everyone but me.


I cannot complain for not receiving from others, that which I've never asked them for.