How do I get control?

How do I get control over my desires?

I wish I was married to Derrin Brown and then he could mind meld me or whatever into the person I need to be on a daily basis.

I am struggling to get control of a lot of things - thoughts, feelings, impulses etc

I wish most of all that I had real friends.

Friends who think about you.

I think I have friends and then I find out I don't actually have any.

When you hit the skids, it's then that you find out who wants to be there and who just thinks its all too hard. Or cant be bothered. Or you find out you weren't actually on their radar anyway when you thought you were.

It takes me right back to the playground.

My Mum finally got it together and realised I was unhappy at school and moved me when I was 9. My leaving present from my teacher was a book called Crazy Knitting.

Yep, I still have it.

Today I have realised that this book sums up my 'sad little girl inside me' who just can't heal.

I can't possibly get this across the way I want to, but maybe that's not what needs to happen.

I can't believe my teacher bought me this book. Obviously a lot of thought went into it, and therein lies the saddest saddest fact.

Mr. Bentley chose this book for me because I used to knit at playtime. All time.

Knitting in the corner of the playground was preferable to just sitting in the corner.

I wasn't allowed to join anyone's game; I never had the right toy of the day; I wasn't allowed to brush anyone's hair in the hair brushing circle; I wasn't picked for the rounders team or the stool ball game. Or marbles, even when I thought I had a coup and my little baby heart jumped for joy with the exciting possibilities of playing because I found a massive old fashioned sweety jar full of emperors and genies and dwarfs and sparkly ones for £1 at the garden centre. I had the BEST marbles in the school! but no, they were still not the right marbles. Because they were the best. I could not win.

I was the kid that couldn't.

Socially.

I have no idea how this happened or why. I don't consider myself to be a social misfit. I am not unkind to people. In fact I think I have a rather altruistic nature - possibly that doesn't come across in this blog because it's not something I ever delve into here - but it's true. I help people. I give. I am a pleaser.

I was a nice kid. I wasn't mean. I didn't wear glasses, I was not fat, I was not ugly, I was not noisy, didn't pinch people. I was nice.

I try and be the person you want me to be.

I could not fit into that school. It was impossible, so to distract my hurt, and not look like a leper I chose to knit. I could cable and even make a pretty good fair isle pattern by the age of 10.

I wish this achievement was a happy one.

So Mr. Bentley bought me this little knitting book thinking that I was heavily into my knitting and therefore belying his lack of knowledge about the child in his care.

The book was painfully easy for me, but I actually created each and every one of the silly things in it and have kept it, brown with age, for the last 26 years.

So I started out knowing how to get through, involve myself in activities to distract me from the pain of loneliness.

For me that book is all of these things: the first genuine recollection of being ostracised. The first time I can remember knowing that I was being emotionally humiliated by my peers. The first time I realised that adults don't see everything, and because of that they couldn't help me. The first time something dawned on me. The first time I connected hurt with something I needed to swallow down and say "Thank you" for but not mean. The first time I can remember feeling hollow. The first time I realised that the distraction had worked. The first time I realised I could fool people into believing I was ok.

Why have I kept it?
  
Seriously. Why have I?

I have absolutely no idea.

I can see that school in my mind. Little tiny bits of film. See the corners I would sit in. See the 3 little friends I had for a couple of week stints before they moved house.

My first Friend Lynsey. Moved.
My second Friend Laura. Moved.
My third Friend Sarah. I was moved.

Yes - a few days after I made friends with a new girl called Sarah, I myself moved school. She was sad. I was devastated.

It seems like I am contradicting myself here, that I did in fact have friends. That's not true. It was a painfully sad thing, and the most unlucky - I always remember thinking that it was so unfair because I just made friends with these kids and then they left. I was gutted. I was at that school from the age of 4 until 9. Five years and I had friends for about 9 weeks in total. these friends were so fleeting that I never even got to go and have tea with them.

I was the kid that didn't have birthday parties because Mum got annoyed that I was never invited back. She said it wasn't fair that I never got invited back, so she would show them - by us not having one and not inviting their kids! This was fact from before I went to school.

What kind of logic is that?

I think a lot of trying to keep my Mum happy formed my character. I can tell just from looking at her from behind if she is happy or sad or stressed or angry. I am an eggshell walker. I know that the way she was while I was a kid was a bit wacky, and probably I had no friends directly as a result of other kids parents thinking my Mum was a nut job - which she was - but only because she was clinically depressed and no one took the time to look at her, see the problem and get her some help.

I am sure my wanting to please comes from trying to make her happy.

I am sure my struggle with friendship stems from not having any as a kid, and when I do have a friend I want to make them happy. To the point that even when they hurt me, I don't want to hurt them back. But do I want to make them happy to the point that maybe they know I will just take it? That... I don't know. Only they know that.

I can't tell my mum this though. I can't tell anyone.

When things upset me, I have this weird internal struggle.

This week people have let me down. I remember my Mum telling me as a kid that people only let you down. You have your own family and that's it. Everyone else will only let you down. You can only rely on yourself. etc... all those idioms merged into one phrase she used to say which I can't quite remember.

I am even struggling to write this out because, although totally anonymous, my brain is trying so hard to not show the petty shame of the people that have hurt me.

And it is petty.

I am sure they haven't even got a clue, but it's got me so low I can't function normally. I want to close the curtains, get into bed and hide, cry and not get up. I want my husband to cuddle and kiss me. I need a "there there". I want my baby boy to never grow up and just us three be together forever in a stasis of love where nothing can hurt us, no one can be mean to us and we rule the world. The little world of 3 people.

I can't quite believe it has affected me so much, but I have realised that apart from my husband, and my one and only child, that's it. It's just us versus the world.

I have no one else.

Not even my parents, because I can't say what I need to say to them as they will get pissed off and hurt and hate me and I have to please them at all times. It's not an option. They are consistent with their offence taking, and they would take massive offence.

It's all about them.

Everything that hurts me, hurts them more. Everything I do that makes me happy, makes them happier. Everything that was my fault is their fault more.

I will never be top, allowed to have my own feelings, allowed to hurt and be comforted, allowed to revel in my own joy. It's not allowed as they made me. I am theirs.

It's like being in prison with myself.

I am not myself.

I don't mean I am not myself in the way that 'I am ill' or not feeling myself. I mean I am literally made to not be myself by the people who are supposed to love you most come whatever.

Stifled. A prisoner in their idea of who I am. I cant even say what I feel because they twist it.

Ok, so here's the petty.
Here is the little tale of woe that actually is touching my tiny little girl heart like I was in the playground knitting a new yellow scarf....

Touching the red tender meat of my heart with a new sharp pin...

I have been ill for a few weeks and not been about much.
Not heard from anyone at all.

Several weeks ago my 'freind' offered to take me to hospital for my nerve tests on Friday.
It was arranged. She thought I might feel bad after and it might hurt so she said she would take me. The test was at 9am and would take 30 mins or so. 

I got a text, which had been sent to many people, saying something like

"Hi all, having a surprise party for X before she leaves for Australia. Have a card if you all want to sign and a little envelope to put some pennies in. Thought we would change it into dollars for her as a little gift. Meeting at Such&Such at 12:00pm Friday"

thoughts:
This person is going on holiday 
This person chose to go.
Why should I give her cash?
How am I going to go to this when I will feel rubbish
How is this 'freind' going to get to this in time as wont be back until at least 11:30am from taking me to hospital?
Has friend forgotten?
why did they pick that day?
'friend' doesn't want to go to hospital with me
will let 'freind' off the hook

txt friend and say she doesn't need to take me as bla bla bla some rubbish.

No reply.

Another friend (lets call him J) sees DH and asks how I am. DH tells it like it is and that I am the sickest I have ever been. He says 'thats terrible' and that he and his wife L will pop around.

DH tells me this and I feel lovely and cared for.

2 days go by.

Get text from J - "Can we come and see you tomorrow (wed) evening?"
I reply "Evenings are not great TBH. taking morphine and will be out of it by 8pm. how about lunch time one day this week or afternoons are good too"
J's reply "Oh wont be able to make it until next weekend in that case x"

Thoughts:
don't fucking bother then.

my reply "Oh well, never mind. Hopefully will be better by next weekend so might see you then"

no reply.

Went to tests on my own with DS. Harrowing experience. V Painful.

Decided was NOT going to goodbye party for X as they could all fuck themselves as V bitter an upset that not one of them - and all class themselves as my mates - has even noticed that I haven't been around for 2 weeks without any explanation. Not a call, not a text.

Then think - No. Will go. Bollocks.

'friend' surprised to see me there. Tension. don't understand it.
'friend' sitting next to J's wife L. talking between them. Every time look up from convo with immediate mates sitting next to me, L catches my eye and looks away.

Getting hurt and feeling like want to run away, but keep chatting light, friendly smiling. No one asks where I have been. No one asks why got crutches. No one cares.

*just like to say - in case you're thinking "god they are probs all sick of her and her moaning" that I am honestly not the kind of person who plays on my illness. Never ask for help. Never show am ill. Never never never as I don't like lupus to beat me. On here I moan, because I can. You can all suffer!! LOL Honestly, my biggest fear is that I am 'that ill person'. Would kill self if thought that*

After 45 mins I make excuses, hug X and say have a great time. She is simpering and full of happiness. She's not a close friend but I consider her closer than an acquaintance.

Then 'freind' and L say "hey hun, hows you... will it be ok if we pop around this afternoon and have a coffee and stuff?!" "YES THAT WOULD BE LOVELY" I say.

Thoughts:
elation, happiness and all thought that they don't like me gone. So happy. Will buy cake, get nice biccies and wait.

They don't come.

half past 4 - need to get some prescriptions from chemist - text 'freind' - "just getting prescription will be back in 5 mins x"
I go
I come back & text "Back! x"

6:30pm.

crying.

hurt.

sad.

devoured by immense pain in fleshy part of heart.

and all this anguish because of a 'friend'.

That's not a friend is it? No text, no call, no nothing.
But if she did ring, I know I would be sweetness and light. I would not do what I want to do and tell her to fuck herself, ask her why she never bothered turning up, ask her why she chose to put on a party for someone the same day she new I would probs not be able to make it - but invited me anyway, why she hasn't bothered to ring even though she knows I am ill?
I would be the smoother-over. forgive but not forget. Be gracious. Have a laugh with her.

I make myself sick.

Maybe my Mum is right. You only have yourself - and as I am married to the most darling bloke in the world, we are one person. I am him, he is me, we are me and we are him. We are myself.

Does it matter that it's just us?

yes, to me it does.

why does no one like me enough?

why does no one like me.

Why has it come to this.

I am humiliated beyond grief by this, and the fact that I shared it, and the fact that it is so little, yet so immensely important and I am a little girl in the playground again and you know what...

...I actually just bought some wool.