Spending time with family used to bring me a little slice of contentment and peace, just knowing they were safe and happy was all it took.
Now it slowly slices off pieces of my heart. They are happy and safe, and they feel contentment and peace. I feel years removed from them. Their joy is no longer my joy. Time spent together is like rubbing salt in a wound, like hand sanitizer on paper cuts.
I spent so much of my life protecting them and shielding them and all I get for it is pain and faked smiles.
I was invited over for supper and by the time I got there, everyone had already eaten and the supper was cold. Their uncaring sliced deep. They were a family without me. I had worked thanklessly over Thanksgiving while they all spent time with loved ones but I did not get the same courtesy.
I spend so much time picking out presents for them that they will need or will find useful and I get not a one in return. My only gift this year was a jar of lotion in a scent that makes me nauseous, from my mother who doesn’t even like me.
It’s just one thing after another. There’s been times where I haven’t felt loved, but I’ve never felt so unloved.
I’ve always hoped to feel love from my family; true unconditional love. Now I don’t think I ever will.
I’ve loved them with my whole heart for my entire life.
I suppose I stuck with life partly because I always hoped I’d eventually feel love and that my family would feel like warmth and security. Family has been my safety plan for 20 years.
That’s what the books say, isn’t it? Have a safety plan. Create a safety plan. Have your friends help you make a safety plan.
Mine has been crossed out, scribbled over, crumpled up, and now it’s finished.
What is there left to live for, if not love?
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Hope this finds you well,
-L
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