I can't read anymore. I love to read but I can't anymore. Every time I try I feel like my mind is clouded by too many thoughts and memories and I can't push past them and focus on the words. My eyes recognize them, they're familiar but they don't register as much in my brain. I read the same paragraph four times. My eyes don't want to focus on anything anymore, driving seems impossible because I don't feel like I'm anywhere. I feel like I'm floating somewhere just outside myself, performing tasks and answering questions like a robot. Saying things I think I'm supposed to say, going along with everything because that's what I do best. I've never had very good control of my own life.
Here I am now. Closer to 30 than I ever thought I'd get with no job and no prospects. Married even though I don't want to be but without enough guts to demand things be resolved as quickly as possible. And who am I to demand anything? I can't even pay for a divorce, I can't even pay for gas. I can't even pay for a package of soup or feminine hygiene products. I ignore the bills that pile up in the background, the phone calls demanding minimum payments. I wonder if I would ever get up the nerve to end everything and know I am too afraid of death to accept that option although sometimes it seems like the easiest. I'm falling apart completely. I am floating aimlessly. I just want to be independent and successful and happy and not feel so wretched all of the time. Like my muscles and bones hurt constantly and I'm fat and useless and ugly and lazy and.
I can't close my eyes lately without hearing all of the things he said when he abused me. I can't sleep because I just play back the incidents that I remember and the new ones I'm starting to remember. I want to cry, I want to start my life all over again as a baby, fresh and new and clean and pure and unused. I want to start all over again with no older brother. With no family members who don't care or don't understand or don't believe. Start over and become the confident and normal and stable person I know is hidden somewhere in this mess. Instead, I'm forced to try and pull myself out of this despair and take responsibility for my actions and be assertive and bubbly and put things behind me. Why is it so hard for me and so easy for other people?
I'll stop. My muscles are aching and sore, I feel decrepit and ugly. My eyes hardly want to focus on the screen.
I can do this, I can do this, I can be OK.
Where do I start?