Never Sent – Midnight

A bunch of stuff I never shared or sent. Most of this is emails stuck inside my draft folder. It felt good to write them but I’m glad I didn’t send them when i wrote them. I don’t know where they belong though. Maybe they should exist here? I know they aren’t worth anything but.. I didn’t feel like deleting them either. The first one was nice… I don’t know why I didn’t… I think it was more like couldn’t… sometimes we just get really scared to communicate at all.

Two Recent Emails:

February 13th, 2:30am

Did you know my brother Eddie, before he kinda just gave up and went to work for my dad, took a few college courses? He never graduated (nor did my other brother) but I remember asking him what he was interested in at some point. Either journalism or psychology, he said.

I told Ava this not too long ago and saw the corners of her mouth soften into a gentle smile. It was something she didn’t know about him. I’m sure it was like a drop of liquid gold for her.

I remember many years ago when my dad found out that’s what my brother was interested in and he sort of scoffed. I remember thinking, what an asshole. I was both shocked and annoyed. I took offense on behalf of my brother who wasn’t there at the time. I still take offense to it. To his unrealized dreams, to the vast loss of potential, all of it – erased by the long-term effects of abuse.

When you said something to me the other day..the compliment about having some potential for counseling/therapy… all I could think about was my brother.

I tried to encourage him to go back to school for many years. But understandably, as time passed on – it became harder and harder.

So he never did go back. When I as young, I also considered psychology, but it wouldn’t have been a good idea. I might have some qualities that line up like sensitivity, empathy, warmth and professionalism on the surface but it is short lived. I don’t handle stress or conflict well – I become easily rattled because conflict means abuse to me. It means intense pain and triggering terrible memories. I could never handle stress – just triggers my flight response – run!

I “handle” it now because I’ve had to.. because I refused to give up without proving I could be independent, financially stable, and in a field my dad scoffed at too. He had no idea. Weird of him to have any opinion at all other than pride in his kids – but that was asking too much, huh?

He said some strange things after Eddie died. About how smart he was and how good he was with computers. I sat there expressionless looking at his red watery eyes.

All his life you made him feel like an idiot, a fuck-up. You literally beat that message into him – and now that he’s dead – he’s smart? But all you can say about him, all you can use to attest to that, is these scraps you know about him. Because you really didn’t know him – at all.

You know. I actually really hate looking down at my dad for his beliefs, mistakes, his ignorance. It makes me feel, elitist. I don’t like feeling that way, it’s not his fault he had zero education and a fucked up and traumatic childhood either. Not an excuse, we’re just very different people and I try not to be like him – though I’m not always successful.

I always viewed my dad growing up as a commanding personality. He never came off to me as weak. Shorter guy with a ton of presence. But you know what?

I just realized how much stronger than him I am. How much I endured as well and came out the other side an arguably better (maybe better isn’t the right word? kinder?) person. Not perfect by any means. Capable of hurting people too (emotionally) even if unintentionally… but at least I’m trying to do better. I don’t just say it when it’s convenient and I’m remorseful… I actually commit and try.

So he can be proud of me for whatever he wants – I don’t care so much anymore. But, like his description of my brother, it’s only the superficial stuff he acknowledges. Not kindness, or sensitivity to others, or resilience. And I mean resilience that has been brutally tested – just in a different way than it was for him. But he doesn’t see any of that as something to be proud of because I’m not sure he even sees it at all. My mom does acknowledge these qualities .. in her own way.

I bet my dad thinks my life has been a cake walk in comparison to his. Maybe it has, I don’t know. Kinda hard to compare – don’t even want to. So strange not to see the impact of his own actions. How they changed me for the worse.. broke me down so that I had to patch myself together with chewing gum and spit.

It’s fine. I’m not even mad. I accept that I’m just deeply flawed in ways that also limit my potential. And yes everyone is in some ways but.. I think it’s a bit different for folks w cPTSD.

I dont like to dwell on it. It’s just something that was on my mind when you mentioned it last session.

Do you think it’s weird that just a few of your passing words triggers floods of thought and emotion for me? It happens in seconds. You’ve moved on to another topic and the concept is still buzzing like electricity as your voice fades into the background. I won’t be able to parse all those thoughts until much later – like now. But at the time I feel all the connections lighting up the neural pathways in my brain – it’s almost instantaneous….

But sometimes it connects the bad things. And sometimes it doesn’t let go. Stuck like a broken record. I wrote a lot about how I felt last week and also how your reaction to it made me feel (spoiler: not good).

I didn’t send it because I didn’t want an apology. I realized, I just wanted you to acknowledge how painful it was even if it wasn’t intentional. We didn’t feel like we got that – so it left us hurt and confused.

That’s why I’ve had trouble finding words lately. I don’t think I’ll be able to talk this week. I hate that. In my head that room feels scary and claustrophobic now. The sweet or earthy scents I sometimes walk into, I liked them – but suddenly remembering them, knowing I’ll smell them again, it causes anxiety now. The memory is tainted with mistrust. A aching chill and tenseness has moved into my heart where there should be only warmth.

I don’t know what to do with that. I can barely fathom sending this email either. We figure – you don’t have time to read it anymore anyways – so why bother? It’s not important. We’re not important.

And after all, we are fine. We’re always fine – with or without you.

February 12th, 3:18am

can’t sleep.

Need to sleep but can’t.

Don’t want to talk to you. She specifically doesn’t want to talk to you. D. She’s mad.. but also we’re just hurt. We feel hurt. We know you really didn’t do anything wrong – we know it wasn’t intentional. But that was quite possibly the worst panic attack I’ve ever had in my life… and you caused it.. by pushing a little bit too hard.

There’s no blame really there – just facts. I’m not mad at you as a person. I’m upset that the best you could give me was a couple emojis.

I want to say, it’s okay… I’m used to people hurting me and not realizing it and I’m used to not saying anything about it too. Because I don’t want to be rejected for being too sensitive or too much.

I guess I expected a little bit more. Not much. Just a “hey sorry that happened tonight. Let’s talk about this next time” Would have been something… you didn’t even have to really apologize, I’m not even sure that’s what I actually wanted. I don’t think it is… I think I just wanted you to care about how badly that hurt.

I know I have to go through some pain in my journey. I know that. I’m not trying to avoid that… I wasn’t trying to completely avoid my feelings about Eddie either. But, and this is my failing, I didn’t communicate how much it was bothering D.

I didn’t really expect it too, tbh. Then suddenly I just saw her crouched in a corner protecting herself as best she could. Darkness has always appeared larger than life to me. But not then. Right then, I was just seeing where she came from. A small teenage girl who was scared out of her mind. Fifteen and terrified she was about to die.

And then I remembered the feeling. The feeling of impending death. The collapse that comes along with it when you just decide to give up.. that it’s truly the only…….

….the only…. the only course left. Starting to feel it again. I don’t know why, it’s the only explanation I could think.. stuff about Eddie is deeply tied to my family.

And my relationship with my family is strained and torn and painful atm. So dealing w my feelings about Eddie is just compounded by dealing w my family, which is compounded by all the other stress of that week… those important days, all the career and interview stress, the burnout at work – i couldn’t make room. I couldn’t make room to do anything w my feelings for Eddie. I needed to forget I had them just to get through the week. I didn’t mean I needed to forget him. I just needed to forget those feelings for a while. I guess forget is the wrong word.. set aside? And maybe later when it’s not the worst week ever I can revisit.. that’s what I wanted to say. But it was too late. I was already triggered and frozen. And I couldn’t even hear wtf you were saying towards the end. I just heard taking but not listening to what was going on… we know you couldn’t hear it.. the screaming and crying but.. we wished you could.

I know it’s not ideal for me not to deal with shit as it comes up. We know that won’t help us long term but.. we just couldn’t. I tried to tell you.. Darkness was angry. Really angry. Before she collapsed it was difficult to contain her anger… but it meant something. It meant protection. It doesn’t always mean… stuffing things down.. sometimes it can just mean.. tread carefully.. this is sensitive and dangerous spot for us… all of us.

So it hurt. Part of me never wants to go back there… in that room. It seems small and suffocating suddenly. I can feel myself getting anxious just talking about it. We don’t want to be near you. We don’t even want to talk to you.

Tbh. I was just laying here thinking about suicide. I needed to self harm. Badly. So in a way we did. Of course our thoughts floated towards my brother Eddie and my family. I’ve sent four or five texts to my brother Juan over the last few weeks and he’s .. said nothing. Not a single response.

My dad acts weird around me. My parents both do. Just makes me feel like crap.

I feel sorry for my mom. But she was the only one who said anything to me today. I know she’s thinking about how happy my brother would have been coming in to work tomorrow. She would have gotten to see that.. I know she’s thinking about it. Or he would have called in and she would have been frustrated lol.

But that’s just an echo. And I get it I’m supposed to cry about it and feel all sad and shit but I don’t want to. I just don’t. We don’t. It’s not… it’s not time yet. It might not be time for a while. The last time I went through or processed some serious grief it was not at a time I would have expected. But maybe subconsciously my body/heart knew there was opportunity. I’d been severely depressed for weeks and I was at home alone. I suddenly found myself with the space to just cry and cry so fucking hard muffled by blankets and pillows. It hurt. Physically my bones hurt.

I don’t know if that’s healthy or not. I think I got to a tipping point then too. I know I need to learn to do it more gradually and I’m trying.. I’m trying to talk more.. but my body naturally starts dissociating and it’s really hard to stop it sometimes… sometimes I don’t want to stop it. Sometimes I let it happen and then force myself to snap out of it if I can. Because at least that’s not a big rush of emotion that would break me in half.

I was laying here trying to sleep and not surprisingly all the messaging came bubbling up as I was falling asleep.

You shouldn’t exist.

You don’t deserve to exist.

You need to hurt yourself.

Hurt yourself.

Punish yourself.

I hate you.

I needed it. Craved it. Wanted it… just wanted to feel hurt. I can’t even really explain it. It’s like.. feeling guilty that I’m even alive. That my brother isn’t. That I refuse to think about him. That I can’t change it. That this isn’t the way it should be. That it doesn’t matter whatsoever because people die all the time and it’s insignificant and for some reason you just can’t fucking get over it. So punish yourself. Beat yourself into submission for failing to be exactly what I’m supposed to be. Quiet, fearful, obedient. Maybe my dad even blames me for being useless that day. For not going to check on him sooner. Maybe we blame ourselves a little for that too. Maybe that’s part of why there’s so much hate but….. honesty, there was always hate there. Since I could remember being alive there was hate for myself.

I grew up in a world where I felt like I was a mistake. That maybe my mom wanted me but my dad certainly didn’t. He only liked me when I was silent. My brother certainly didn’t want me around. But my mom and my eldest brother weren’t so bad. It’s hard to distinguish those feelings as a kid. You just feel shy, and terrified you’ll lose the only family you have that likes you. That suddenly my brother and mom would turn on me and hate me too. So I just lived in fear. Knowing that I was one mistake away from being abandoned and hated by everyone.

But there was one person who really liked me, sought me out… my cousin Alex. I at least had that to offer, but I couldn’t even do that right…I got sick of it. Tried to avoid it. So more family disappeared.

I was sure.. am sure.. I was the worst. Just couldn’t appease people enough, which is all I wanted as a kid – more than anything… But I could never be what they wanted. So we hated ourselves for it and did our best not to be myself.

I don’t even care. That was just the way of the world and tbh I feel like that’s still the way of the world. The world shoves you and prods you and stuffs you into boxes and slaps labels on em without a second thought. And don’t step outta line or get punished.

*shrug* Don’t see what’s changed really.

I think maybe that’s why I feel resistance sometimes. To altering or believing any other messaging. Probably also why everything always hurts. It’s my baseline. My baseline is knowing that I’ll never live up to peoples expectations because I’m inherently flawed and should expect that people will leave at some point no matter what I do. And if they don’t leave, they’ll beat me into submission some how. My only recourse is run or just take it.

I feel like I rambled forever. But we don’t want to send this to you. We’re still upset with you and don’t know what to do about that. We don’t want .. anything from you at this point we just want to curl up into a ball and forget the world exists. Some of us still like having suicide as an option on the table. We have ideas. We think about it all the time.

I don’t even care anymore. Most likely I’ll only ever injure myself.

We don’t want to talk about Matrix. We can’t ever hear her anymore. We barley pay any of them attention. I’m tired. Finally.

Should I send this to you? Nah. I’ll let you enjoy the day tomorrow. Who cares about me.