This Was My 4th Christmas Without My Mother. Every Year, I Am Struck By How Much Of A Fucking Relief

This was my 4th Christmas without my mother. Every year, I am struck by how much of a fucking relief it is. I was told by so many people that I would regret my decision, that I would miss her, that "she's your mom and you only get one."

I don't miss her. My life has been objectively better without her.

I miss believing I had a mom who loved me, but that started a long time before I cut her out.

I don't miss the panic I felt seeing her name on my caller id. I don't miss her manipulation. I don't miss her parentifying me. I don't miss the burden of caring for her in her old age looming over my head like a fucking guillotine. I don't miss her guilt or her lies or her abuse.

I don't miss her. I don't miss her. I don't miss her. I feel free.

I have therapy tomorrow, and my homework was to write, so... Hobey ho, let's go.

I'm fucking tired because my second father in law just died in a fucking stupid, traumatic, idiotic way. When my husband brought me into this family thirteen years ago, I gained three father figures. His dad, his stepdad, and one of his uncles. I was so lucky to have them in my life. But they're all fucking dead now. Cancer, cancer, and now an accident.

And I'm just. So fucking tired. My own father, after hearing about this, drunk dialed me three separate times while my father in law was on life support and sent me $500. Like, I appreciate the money. But could I have a hug? Could you tell me you love me when you're sober? Could you fucking try to fucking BE HERE? Could you try, at all. I want your attention. I want you to want me in your life. I want you to care about what's happening in mine. But you fucking don't and it's exhausting to keep wanting.

And then I have these three men that care and support me and protect me and every single one of them fucking dies within a few years of each other. And it's FUCKING STUPID. It's stupid they're dead. It's stupid I loved them so much. It's stupid that my mother is still alive when these good people are gone.

I'm fucking tired. I'm just so tired. I haven't been tired like this since I was in high school, living with my mother, being sex trafficked to pay the fucking mortgage.

I can't bring myself to feel anything beyond tired. I just want somebody to come take care of me, which is embarrassing, because I'm 31 fucking years old, but you know what? Nobody ever fucking took care of me. Nobody. And then when I was 19, I got a partner and his family and they loved me and taught me how to be loved and now they KEEP FUCKING DYING ON ME and I'm pissed. I'm pissed and tired and I want it to stop.

mannnnn until we all get okay with the idea of people needing other people to get them water/food/etc like. idk we’re just never gonna make it

Had a hypersexual trauma reaction after therapy today so that's how my day's going nbd totally didn't have to cancel all plans or anything

I've been thinking over the shitshow that was my adolescence and wondering how I can be different as an adult and what I can do to protect the children in my life. Thinking about how fucking much I always hated people saying "just ask for help" when help didn't fucking exist. Asking for help meant taking a leap off a cliff, blind, and hoping someone would catch me. And nobody fucking did.

And I realized. Just now. Just today. That if instead of being told "just ask for help," I had been told "get as much evidence as you can and then get out and then ask for help" maybe things would have been different. If I had just been told how to protect myself, maybe.

losing your skills and abilities to physical disability can be so scary. especially when you don't know where it's going to end. where the same day a year ago you could walk unaided and now you can't cook while standing. it's okay to be afraid, to mourn what you used to do and what you might have done. nobody is allowed to tell you that you have to be positive, be a "warrior" of your condition, or that you can't mourn.