It's no surprise to anyone whose been my livejournal friend for a while that I frequently suffer the worst indignity known to man. Being told, through both actions and words, by those who should love me unconditionally and without ending, that I am worthless. That I deserve nothing but hate, and abuse and scorn. That I should learn to stop
sticking up for myself, that I am less of a human than those around me.
For my entire miserable life my family and home life has left much to be desired. I am frequently put down and scorned for no worse a crime than defending myself. My sixteen year old sister is both the cause and perpetrator of 99.9% of these attacks. She has always, and I am by no means exaggerating, been completely psychotic. If the simplest thing doesn't go her way (example? today she lost a five dollar bill and then proceeded to start the fight I will tell later over the fact that my mother and myself were making taco salad for dinner, and the one facet of the dinner that threw her over the edge was the minuscule amount of onions that were in the meat, and by minuscule I mean one or two slivers from the salsa that we cooked the meat in). This has been true since she turned two years old and has never let up. Now that I am twenty years old I understand that the only way to protect myself from these heinous fights is to turn into the paint on the walls. It's never easy, but sometimes, when my insomnia has made the simple act of breathing a painful chore or when I hit the limit of emotional abuse that I can handle, I snap. I try hard to keep it from happening, But there's only so many times that a person can hear they are "useless wastes of space or the ever-present you don't deserve to live here, to live period" before enough is enough.
Today was one of those days, I was trying to watch a hockey game in the living room and my sister starts her screaming and cursing and begins to throw a hissy fit that would embarrass a two year old, so I turned the volume up. Clearly this is a capital offense, and she proceeds to start screaming WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE, NO ONE HERE LOVES YOU, OR LIKES YOU. YOU'RE A FAILURE, WHO DROPPED OUT OF SCHOOL AND SHOULD GO DIE.
along with much more colorful lines that would make a prison inmate cry, and I just try to defend myself. Not by pointing out the insanity that my sister spews but by telling my mother, my ALMOST FIFTY YEAR OLD MOTHER, to tell her to stop. This turns into my mother, screaming at me to leave my SISTER alone, and it's not like she wasn't three feet away watching the whole thing, she knows that my sister is the one starting and instigating the fight, and that I'm doing nothing to continue it, I'm trying to stop it. But if my sister is the shrew in this melodrama then my mother is the hypocritical spineless henchman. In the fourteen years of family fights that have happened in my home she has never, not once stuck up for me. My father isn't home, but even help from him is about a one in a thousand shot. I won't tell you the things that were screamed at me, because honestly I wouldn't even want my worst enemy to hear them, but the phrases "get out of the house," "shut your fucking mouth," "why don't you jump off a bridge," "no one will ever love you," "this is all your fault," and my personal favorite "I'm going to call the cops on you" from my mother. If it was just the words though, I might have just went to my room, but my sister isn't happy unless there are physical blows to match the emotional ones. And after I held a remote out to keep her away she proceeds to go WWE on me, but do I hit or hurt her? No, I never do, but that doesn't change a thing. Not one thing. And once I finally got away and braced my door my sister starts on her "you always take her side" rant. Which honestly is LAUGHABLE, anyone with an iq of 3
could see that my side has NEVER been taken. I'm too exhausted to tell the rest, honestly, but if you have half an imagination you can fill in the gaps, right now I'm listening to music as high as I can and praying for a cigarette and a bottle of Jack, neither are showing up anytime soon. Honestly I'm wishing that I never came back to this hell hole. But wishes and horses. I can't do anything about it anyways.
Sometimes, it all just seems pointless. Because no matter how many times you tell someone, or try to explain, you can't do it justice. Because it's more that living with the debilitating effects of being surrounded by people who view you as no more important than a dust on a coffee table. Something to ignore when it's in the air, but to destroy once it gets near anything that is important. It's more than that, it's knowing that as much as they hurt and hate you it has nothing on the damage that you do to yourself by believing it. By knowing without a shadow of a doubt that it's true, that if they weren't right then things wouldn't be this way. To know that even if you got away or tried to change it, you can't. To know that all you can do is try to survive, to shuffle forward even when pushed back, to know that others view your struggle as an obstacle that you should automatically be able to get around, it is not as easy as it looks, it's a full time job. Hating yourself takes a hell of a lot of time and energy.
That's what people who don't have first-hand knowledge are unable to understand. They think self-hate, and living in impossible situations is giving up. It is NOT. Giving up is death, living with its weight on your shoulders is a struggle. A constant never ending struggle. It's not quick or easy. It's never ending, it's taking a pill to keep yourself sane for just a little while longer. It's never giving up. Not succumbing. But enduring. That's the journey, that's the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, the path is steep and jagged with endless ways to take a shortcut, but choosing to make it better. To walk your path with dignity, to never ever give up.