If any of you read my last entry, you know a majority of what's been on my mind..what I've been examining. But there are other things. In the last 2 or 3 days, I've realized that my anxiety (and therefore my depression) GREATLY decreases when there is open communication between Dayton and I. Even though I've only realized this in the last few days, I already feel like I'm being pulled out of that dark place I've been in for the last few months (more intensely in the last few weeks). That's a huge weight off my shoulders. But for some reason, my thoughts keep drifting back to my family. I feel robbed of a real family. Isn't the family unit supposed to provide comfort in your dark days? Support in your weakest hours? And happiness with your successes? Aren't they supposed to be happy when you're happy? None of this is the case in my family. It seems they always point out the negative in my happy moments. They add fuel to the fire in my weak moments. And with many of them, unless I'm catering to them and their ideas of what or who I should be...I might as well not even exist. Is it really so unforgivable that I've got two tattoo's and a tongue ring? Really? Was I the first girl to marry at 18? The first girl to have a baby at 19? No....I was just the first one in my family.
On top of that, there are so many "secrets" swirling around, it's hard to keep up. Everyone knows everybody's secrets, but everyone pretends not to. They're life altering kinds of secrets, but everyone keeps quiet. I have no clue why. Wouldn't it be easier just to give up the lie and TALK? It seems like a lifetime of keeping up with secrets and lies would just be exhausting. Can you imagine the weight on one person's shoulders? Can you imagine how much lighter they would be if they just let it out?
The whole idea of trying to figure out my family is exhausting. And the funny thing is, I don't know why I'm trying to. They clearly aren't that worried about figuring me out.
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