Monday

My dad always told me I was too sensitive. I hated when he said that because it invalidated my feelings. I couldn’t figure out how to not be sensitive. It was just part of my make up. To this day, I hate that I’m sensitive. I can put a post on social media and if I don’t get enough response within the first couple hours, I’ll delete the post and recoil into self-loathing. I still need validation - and so often, I look for it in the wrong place.

Today has been one of those days. One of those weeping-in-the-shower, I hate myself types of mornings. Some might call me bipolar. Nah, I’m just sensitive. I’m still a kid wanting his parents’ approval. I recently emailed my mom and she responded kindly…yet she told me my dad will send another email soon. I’m guessing he’s waiting until next Monday, my birthday (this is how they often do it). He’ll tell me how I ruined everything…how it was my fault that my biological family turned against me…he’ll tell me how evil I am for reading his journals. He’ll also tell me happy birthday and will tell me how they pray for me daily. Yet he won’t talk about the fact that he abused my sister and my son, and very possibly me. I could be completely wrong. I hope so. Maybe he’s changed. In any case, I’m trying not to read my email for the next week. We’ll see if I have the self-control.

And to think I just posted a thought-out well-written post explaining how well I am doing. I suppose this is how grief works. It just sneaks up on you and rips your heart out when you’re not looking. I know some people who don’t want any attention on his/her birthday. This year, I sort of get it. I don’t want any gifts, any money. I just want to feel loved and accepted for who I am. I want to have one full day when there is peace in our home and my son isn’t verbally abusing any one of us. I’m just tired of it and I don’t know how much longer I can take it. My in-laws want to get together for my birthday, but I dread the 3-hour drive with our son and the way he often treats me when we’re with my wife’s parents. A heart can only endure these things so long. I’ve tried to be so strong, but there are some days when I just want to crawl into a hole and cry. I hope my birthday isn’t one of those days. Maybe for one day, I won’t be attacked. Maybe for one day, there will be peace in my family - and in my heart. One day.