So I was poking around in my closet and I came across an old journal. I began to read it, it dates back 90. I'm not the most consistant journaler, so there are alot of gaps. But the theme remained the same. All my life, I've been the victim of abuse in one form or another. It was easier to see when it was physical. Mental or emotional abuse leaves invisible scars, ones that make you think you imagined it all. Finding the strength to get out of such a situation is extremely hard. The constant mental battle that you have on how to get out of it, or the one where you argue with yourself is it real or imagined. Especially when the person causing the pain is gifted at manipulating words and others to taking their side.
It was hard to see that I was being emotionally abused. I saw signs of it in my journal, but instead I guess I chose to "bury my head in the sand". I didn't want to accept, admit that I had allowed myself to fall victim yet again.
Most of my life, I've lived believing I'm worthless and unlovable. That there is no hope for happiness for me, that there is no end of the rainbow with a happy ending. Even today, I still have that argument. I still tend to see myself as unlovable, unworthy, that I'll always be alone. I constantly fear that the man I've fallen for will leave me. The fears, the doubts, the feelings they can be quite difficult to deal with at times.
All of that seems to add to my lack of inspiration sometimes. All the stuff I've been through, makes me feel like I'd fail which makes it difficult to write. Lucky for me though, I have someone that truly believes in me despite all my tears, pain, doubts, and fears. Maybe I can finally find my happy ending.