The Unicorn Killer

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photo credit by coyotefugly

Nothing will crush a childs soul more than sitting on a curb, waiting for your parent to come get you and spend time with you, and then never showing up or calling to explain why. As a little girl, I experienced this on endless occasions. My father would call, say he was excited to see me, say all the fun things that we were going to do that weekend, and then I’d sit on the curb in front of our house and wait for him…but he’d never come. Sometimes he wouldn’t even call to say why or even make up excuses as to why. As a child, my mother told me it was because he was doing drugs or drinking and just couldn’t stand the pressure and was controlled by their influence, and while that may be the truth, that’s not how a child hears it. A child has to trust adults. We have to believe in them because who else can we believe in if not for the people who not only gave birth to us but have lived much longer than we have? No, a child hears that as “they just don’t care about you”.

So as I got older, I simply learned not to trust anyone. ESPECIALLY my parents. You start to believe nobody cares. That you’re just simply not all that important. This may not do it for every kid, but for me, it absolutely started me down a spiral of everlasting depression that I still have to this day. I just wanted to know SOMEONE legitimately cared. The thing is though, when you grow to have that much distrust, when someone tells you they DO care, you don’t believe them. Their actions, their words, they’re never enough. You’ll always have a constant, lingering belief of untruth. I’d grow to have a few very close friends, allow them access to my life and the deepest parts of my psyche, and when I finally started dating girls I did the same thing and ultimately I always knew they’d hurt me. That they’d leave. And they did. This eventually led to some extremely twisted beliefs such as when my grandparents died that they did so to get away from me, despite the fact that my grandparents were the only people I ever fully, 100% believed loved me as much as they claimed they did.

In the end, I started begging people not to leave me. I would make my girlfriends and friends promise not to leave and hurt me “like everyone else has always promised and still done”, I’d always tell them. I realize now that this was pretty psychologically abusive in many ways on my end, but it wasn’t intentional. I was truly sick. I didn’t recognize at the time the pressure I was putting on people by asking them that. I don’t want to be that kind of person, but I also don’t want to be the kind of person who can’t believe a word anyone says to me. People often like to use the phrase “Well why didn’t you say anything about this when you were a kid?” whenever you try and explain your current adulthood mental health, or as I did, when you come out. Why didn’t I say anything about how your abandonment made me feel? Because we’re children. We don’t know how to put that into words, and even if we did, nobody listens to children because they’re considered “not developed enough to form that sort of cohesive thought”. It’s a lose/lose scenario. Not to mention we’re scared. We simply want everything to be perfect. To be right. The thing about life is that you’re born into the world with no indication of good and bad. You simply learn about those things by experiencing how shitty or great life can be. If all you experience growing up is bad things, then it’s pretty safe to assume that ALL of life is bad, forever and ever, until you die, which is also considered bad, if the fear of death we have in this country is anything to be believed.

But I’m still here. That’s one way of knowing I’m doing something right. The one thing I have to always remind myself of. That despite everything I’ve been through and how terrible I’ve felt and how poorly I’ve been mistreated or mistreated myself, I still exist. I must be strong. I must be powerful. I must have some sort of strength and beauty to make it this far, given all that I’ve been through. You can tear off a unicorns horn and try t beat it to death with it, but it’s still a unicorn. I’m not sure what I was trying to express here. I guess I just wanted to ramble. It IS a blog, after all. I guess my end point is that I come from probably the most mentally abused and psychologically damaged generation there has been, and I simply wish to get better. I simply wish to help others get better too. I’ve done nothing in my life if not try to make others feel better than anyone’s ever made me feel. I don’t want anyone to feel as alone, and sad and unloved and forgotten as I’ve felt. I’ve gone out of my way to make sure people I know don’t feel that way because I’ve felt that way the majority of my life and it’s awful. Truly awful. I’m going to end this by being realistic and say that I don’t want life to be great. Good might even be overshooting it.

I’d simply settle for it being tolerable.

And the fact that tolerable is what most of my generation aims for is simply depressing in and of its own right.

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