Mommy's Mental Health Chapter 42 - Where Do All The Good Girls Go?

My mother and I... repeating history

I don't know why and I can't pinpoint an exact conversation, but I know I was raised to believe it was abhorrent for women or girls to be angry. As a society, we're starting to unfold how fucked up and unfair it is that boys weren't allowed to cry, but why were girls not allowed to be angry?

No matter what. We could be sad, we could cry, but we were never allowed to be angry. Otherwise you were one of THOSE females. The "evil feminists." Speaking out of turn. Saying things that upset the flow of the world. And if there's anything people hate, it's being made to feel uncomfortable.

I could tell you stories of the little girl who hid under the bed when she could, or "left the room" through dissociation when she couldn't physically leave... A skill that she'd use later in other abusive situations... but left huge gaps in her memories...

I could tell you about the young teen who was tricked into giving away her worth by some asshole who just wanted another notch on his belt...

The girl who thought her existence was to be a punching bag for her family, her fucked up friends, her boyfriends and predators.

The girl who gave up her child so the man she loved wouldn't leave her or blame her for destroying his life...

The Girl "left at the altar..." by that same man.

The girl who became a woman and a mother. The mother left scrambling to survive, battling with abuse, insomnia, and relentless working hours who is now left with nothing but regret for her only child's early years...

The woman who stood next to her father just before he died while he asked for this other daughter who never showed up...

But no matter what happened, I can't really make you feel it.

The burning. The anger. The all-consuming darkness. I was having a conversation with my incredible partner @zakludick this morning after waking up from some horrible and vivid nightmares.

God I love you babe

Through tears and fear, and after saying I didn't want to talk about it, it eventually all came out.

I'm so tired, but I'm scared of what is waiting for me, buried in my subconscious. I'm scared of the ghosts who come to visit me at night and how they wake me up, crying and screaming. How they take me right back to those moments of utter helplessness, regret, hurt, and disallowed anger.

I get some reprieve, some rest... when I take my pain tablets, and my anxiety medication and I rest for an hour or two in the afternoon.... dreamless sleep … what a relief...

I've been for so much therapy I've lost count...

The rest of the time is spent trying to keep my head above the water and trying not to let the anger out because when I do, it consumes me. It drowns me. Like smoke, it gets into my lungs and I can't breathe.

The rape, the betrayal, the loss of a child, the loss of a father, abandonment, and terrible memories. They visit me in flashes all the time and I can't make them stop.

Let them go, they say. You can't control Karma, they say. Holding on to anger only hurts you..

But what do I do with it?

Where does it go?

How do I shut it up?

And why the fuck can't I be angry?

Source