C'est la vie

Life is all about making mistakes. It happens to me a lot. I seem to continually fuck shit up. Making mistakes does not bother me, per se. What bothers me is that I cannot seem to learn from them. I am stuck in these habits of self destruction and I cannot stop. I have patterns of behaviour that were reinforced for years that mean that I so easily believe the harshness spewed forth at me but, for the few genuine compliments, I cannot believe. I cannot see what others see. I am so filled with hatred for myself. And not believing the compliments from the genuine people in my life makes me hate myself even more.

There are days when I know that I am in a better place. I am free.

Then there are days where I would do anything to be with my babies. I'd go back in a heartbeat. But I force myself to remember that my daughter needs to know that a man has to treat her with respect and my son must learn to treat women with respect and I force myself to walk away. It breaks my heart. I feel like I am being torn apart. Every. Fucking. Time.

And despite what he says I know he'd take me back. I'm a good little housewife - cooking, cleaning, fucking. But not worthy of sharing.

Fuck that!

I am so over the mind games that go on in my head as a result of my past two relationships. I went from one controlling manipulative arsehole to another. I'd rather be alone than taken for a ride again. Like a friend pointed out, my status as single or partnered has no bearing on my worth as a human. I am worth no less because I am unloved. I am just unloved. Like I am not rich and I cannot play a musical instrument. It makes me no less of a person because I don't have someone to share my bed with.

All the false bravado in the world is meaningless. I preach that I am a good catch, that I am pretty awesome but I don't believe it. Not in my heart if hearts. As a result, my insecurity and neediness will attract the wrong person again. Making mistakes is fine. Not learning from them is woeful.

So, I plan to continue to make mistakes. But I will make new mistakes and learn from them. This washing machine I have been living in is a prison of my own making. While I was put in here against my will I stay because I am scared to leave. I stay because I don't have the skills to leave. I stay because I am comfortable in my misery. I stay because it is familiar. I stay because I think I deserve to be miserable for ruining my children's lives.

But I can stay no longer. This is not a place to live. This is a place to fester and die. I chose to escape from my prison. I chose to crawl out; to drag myself through the sludge; to pull hand over hand through the mud. I choose to wash this funk off me. I choose to go fragrance free; no longer will I cover up my flaws. No longer will I try to be someone I am not.

I have been saying the words for months on end but I have not been able to act on them. I have been trapped by my own fears. I have been thwarting my own efforts. I have not yet found the reason why - conditioning? Genetic predisposition? Fear? Who knows. It matters not for I am sick of the self imposed shackles. I am tired of being tired. I am so emotionally drained all of the time and I no longer want to be that person.

I am free. I need to start living life. I am on a path to heal my damaged heart. I know that there are so many things wrong with me but if I continue to focus on those things I will miss out on so many opportunities for joy.

I am stronger today than I was yesterday. Tomorrow I will be stronger still. I will no longer give power to the words of a wounded man who continues to try to pull me down; to destroy me as a means of making him feel powerful.

I am free. I will cocoon for the evening and in the morning a butterfly will emerge.