Crazy ass bitches…

Why is it so difficult for some to understand emotional pain, emotional scars? Perhaps a point of reference is necessary.

For folks who don’t want to deal with “crazy ass bitches” please understand, we don’t want to BE crazy ass bitches. We’re broken. And yes, some of us have gone through therapy. For years, in fact. But there is no official manual for dealing with broken people, only a guide. And though the people who work in the field do the best they can, sometimes you can only put a bandage and say “I hope this helps.”

I am logical enough to say that my pregnancy hormones are making things far bigger than they should be, a pebble becomes a boulder, a single drop becomes a tidal wave. Yet, these issues, small though they are when I’m reasonable, are still issues.

My personal nightmare, my personal “horror” if you will, is being excluded.

I’ve been picked on when I was a kid, not full on “bullied” per se, but enough that when I see others being bullied, I feel their pain and can say “I’ve been there.” Ironically, my own crazy mother taught me not to care about that and to stand my ground. So, call me whatever names you will, and though it hurts, I can analyze and grow from it.

I don’t know what it feels like to be completely abandoned by those who are supposed to love you. I would assume its what I feel when I’m excluded times 100. Or a 1,000.

I was suffocated by my mother, trapped. To me, seeing others being invited and doing things that I want to do but being excluded (whether by accident or on purpose) is my personal hell.

Today, I blew up on a friend of mine via IM because she asked if my husband and eldest daughter would like to go with some friends to a haunted hay ride. Being used to being ignored and excluded (even if it really hurt) I only focused on my youngest.

To be fair, I must mention that this person loves my girls and would never intentionally hurt either one. But when I read the invitation included only my husband and eldest, my heart started to pound, my hands started to shake.

I calmly told her that he would probably ask the youngest if she’d like to go, too. “The exclusion thing, you know.” I don’t remember the exact words but her reply was something along the lines of “life isn’t fair and they should be individuals, not always together.” And that’s when things went down hill. Again, to be honest, her only thought was that perhaps it would be too scary for a 10 year old. Which is perfectly reasonable since the youngest doesn’t like scary things.

The point was the lack of invitation. Years of “you can’t do this because… you’re a girl, because you’re too young, you’re not enough this, enough that… Not smart enough, not pretty enough, not cool enough…” flooded over me. Years and years of being excluded from parties, events, for example. Not only in childhood but as an adult. Repeatedly having the door closed on my face. Not only metaphorically but literally, as well.

How does one explain this to someone who is constantly looked for? To the point that she gets annoyed by it? How can someone explain the emotional pain that comes from being shunned???

Judgmental, maybe?

So it’s been a little bit since I’ve been here. I’m 24 weeks now and looking forward to delivery. Baby is growing healthy and it’s quite a normal, uneventful pregnancy. Nothing less than what everyone expected.

What I hadn’t expected was the constant emotional turmoil. Constant crying, constant aching. I’m fully aware that it’s my hormones but I wonder if these thoughts/emotions aren’t the “truth” that I push aside with logic. Similar to my thoughts on people who are drunk. Being drunk turns off the filter, so words spoke are truth, actions taken are actions wanted, without the filter to make it stop. It’s hard core truth.

There is someone in my life whom I love very much but we don’t always see the same side. I am a firm believer that you shouldn’t do anything behind someone’s back that you wouldn’t do in front. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no saint. There are plenty of times when I say that I’d love to beat someone with a baseball bat. And I certainly wouldn’t say that to someone’s face, but I would find a way to soften my words and get my point across with truth.

So to hear that “what he/she doesn’t know, won’t hurt him/her” makes me wonder what goes on behind my back. I have my suspicions on how many lies I’ve heard, how many misdirections. What kind of ethics (or possibly lack of…?) does this person have? Is this someone I want in my life? In my family’s life?

But then I wonder “who am I to judge?” Are we not all marred with imperfections? If the overall package is good, then perhaps I should enjoy the good and ignore the bad…? Maybe?

The choice may not be mine to make, considering how my family has embraced this person. But the separation may be quick in coming, considering how less frequent visits have become. Perhaps it’ll go from a few times a week, to once a week, to every other week until no more. The separation would be easier, right? Begs the question: is slow withdrawal better than cold turkey?

What frightens me is whether this separation will take place before the delivery or after. After, I’ll be able to use logic to bury my emotions. Before… Would be far more painful. Each emotion is on the surface, difficult to control. After all, despite flaws, I still love…