Constantly feeling in danger of being abandoned is, to some, an irrational fear. With each waking moment one is faced with choices, choices of food, direction, and interpretation. We choose to interpret things in which ever way we have been trained to. The concept of glass half full or empty if you will. Each individual is trained to see life in a different way. From birth, a high majority of us see the world as open, free, and wonderful, gradually we are conditioned to either stay this way or take a sharp, plummeting turn for the worst-- pessimism.
My momma always used to say I woke up happy and went to bed happy, I was for sure one of those glass half full types. If my mom bought milk I was excited, because that meant I would have something to drink, and being just as excited as if she had bought a stuffed animal. This was what kind of kid I was. The sickness and death of my close Grandparents couldn't alter my ever cherry disposition. The great loss, and what felt like abandonment to a seven year old, would not take away the bounce from my step. Neither would the disability of my mother and the loss of my childhood as I came to learn sickness was what was in my life and how I had to handle it-- through caring. As my shoulders got heavier my heart grew stronger as well as my shoulders, I learned to carry the same bounce in my step despite how broken everyone around me thought I should be.
Then came the dreaded teen years... except I had hit puberty very early, I never had a drastic hormonal imbalance that made me lash out or be a pill. Yes my momma and I fought about whether or not Facebook was appropriate for a fifteen year old, but nothing significant or life altering that would stand a chance against my glass half full viewpoint. During my teen years I learned quickly that friends would easily walk away, girls would crush me, life would change, and death was inevitable. I was abandoned by many friends, most commonly not by choice, I was left by many loved ones in death, and in the end of my teen years I was left standing alone. To begin surrounded by a multitude of friends and loved ones and end alone is probably my first glance towards the glass half empty viewpoint.
Being raised semi-religiously I grew believing at minimum that there is a God, someone looking out for us, helping lead our lives in the appropriate directions and prevent true harm from coming to us. It was after losing both my best friend to a move and my child hood dog within three days of each other that I came to believe God was punishing me. That somewhere along the way I had done something wrong. I no longer could find the viewpoint that God was strengthening me, but more that he was punishing me. For what? I could not say. For being too happy? Despite my odds I was happy, purely happy.
As each boulder was added to my shoulders, losing more family members, car accidents, financial attacks, struggling with school, more death and more lost friends, my shoulders began to weaken. Eventually I came to learn everyone intends to abandon me. I am not worth remembering, for my friends rarely, if ever, make an effort to contact, because I am not on their minds. I am not worth noticing for few strangers try notice me. I am not worth protecting because in the thick of it all, even God abandoned me. A bounce cannot go on after the ball has been punctured by hundreds of needles, and one band-aide cannot repair such damage.
If we are lucky, those of us who have a damaged ball, have a band-aide come around every once in a while who tries to heal your bounce. But band-aides can only stick for so long, their adhesive wears out after wear and tear. And then yet again we are abandoned on the side of the road with a flat. Left alone with our thoughts.
Because each morning I wake up worrying that today is the day I am going to be abandoned again. Because each morning I wake up and feel the ache inside me that makes me want to abandon myself as well.
I was once so strong and stood so tall. My confidence was never tested, nor did I ever even think about the concept of confidence, because all that matter to me was being me. Because I loved me. I felt I was the best version of me I could be, because my glass was half full.
But now I am deflated. Over worked, over tired, over used. Dependent upon a band-aide. Knowing the more often I run water over my band-aide, or rub it against something the quicker the adhesive will wear down and the quicker I will be stuck naked, full of holes. Unfortunately, I have no control over this. I am no longer in control of my emotions and my actions which are now directed by my emotions.
To constantly hate oneself is to constantly expect abandonment, to some, this is an irrational fear. And it is those who cannot find understanding who leave the quickest.
I have come to see that sickness is what is to be in my life. I am sick. I cannot handle what I used to be able to handle, I am not me. I am sick. I cannot hold onto to calmness, or even logic sometimes. I am sick. I cannot see a light at the end. I am sick. I am losing myself because somewhere along the lines God, along with all too many people in my life, decided I was best of abandoned. My conditioning was based on faith in humanity; unfortunately, as I lost my faith in humanity, I also lost me.
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