See, I got a little skewed up...my parents, who, by moral law, we're supposed to love me, had a very bizarre, sadistic way of showing it. Love means hit me hard please. If that isn't awkward, forgive me. I don't want to be loved the way they loved me.
Step back, turn left.
Somehow, I have to convince myself, the beatings have stopped. You know, you live with something long enough...and all that.
I'm confused, another go figure. In my heart love meant, was taught to mean something mean, sinister, almost evil and decrepit. Usually, I have been pretty good about trying to avoid That. I back away so smooth and abrupt. God, I just want to stop hurting. Ask a lot? I want to get the meanings right...untwist the wreckage and remove all the lies and untruths. God, what does that leave me with?
It's like love is one hand, hate, the other and the fingers are tightly intertwined. That's a scary picture. I have to figure out how to undo...all this..residual damage that I ave been carrying like an overflowing, weighted suitcase that as worn out my arms.
Funny, I can love...my boys, partner and such....it's just the other way around that is scary. I work on loving myself, but that's still rather messed up. IDK....just thinking with my heart...trying to get things straight. I'd rather not carry around misbegotten and skewed emotions. Hmpf, wonder what it's like to be an emotionally healthy being...and how long will it take to get there? I certainly don't like being messed up. Looks like a full plate, again. Wish me luck.
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