I feel frustrated.
I feel like no matter how much progress I make, it’s not enough.
I am here, but I guess I have to be over there.
I’m a 31 year-old woman with no husband, no children, no job, no financial stability, who’s currently living in the basement of her former manager’s home. I get that is pathetic in more ways than one.
I also struggle to make decisions. Sometimes I only eat because people tell me to eat. Sometimes I only use my nebulizer because people remind me to. Sometimes I have to call for help when I’m stuck in situations and I can’t make a decision, like the times I end up in the hospital. Sometimes I need someone to go to the doctor with me because I know I won’t be as open as I should. Sometimes I need help getting words out and using my voice because I’m still afraid to say anything more than I’m okay.
And I guess that’s not enough. I’ve been 23 months free now, don’t you think I should be cured? Is 23 months enough time to erase more than 29 years of damage?
It’s not. At least not for me. And I realize that can be as frustrating for other people as it is for me. Trust me, I wish I was an independent woman right now, in great health, with a successful career and a family. But I am not. I still need help. I still need direction. I am still learning how to be a normal person.
And I am still trying. Even as my health continues to decline, I am still trying to live whatever life I can. I am still trying to have experiences I never got to have. I am still trying to try.
But I’m not sure it’s enough for some people. They don’t understand why I’m not recovered yet. They can’t comprehend why I’m still not okay. They tell me I haven’t made enough progress. It’s like throwing a 2 year-old orphan out into the world and expecting her to figure out how to get through life on her own before preschool starts.
I had to start from scratch when I escaped 23 months ago. I had to learn a whole new way of life. And admittedly, I didn’t have the very best start with that, either. But I am working on it now. I am in a much better place physically. I have a support system, however small it may be. I am talking about my feelings and things that are bothering me instead of instantly shutting down.
But I still shut down. I’m still not cured. I’m still not at 31 year-old adult level. I’m still a burden on people who I should never have to be a burden to.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m not cured. I’m sorry I haven’t made enough therapeutic progress. I’m sorry I’m not healed. I’m sorry I still fuck shit up. I’m sorry I still need to ask for help.
I’m sorry I’m not where you think I should be. How can I be a role model when no one was ever a role model for me?
I am tired of never being good enough for anyone. I thought that was over now.