Many Faces…masked memories.

Who really hides behind a mask, you wonder??? I often smile and not feel good enough, not pretty enough, just not enough. I have been put down by people my whole life, My Aunt calling me 666 and the devil. My Dad calling me baggage and using whatever word he felt good enough to use for the moment.

With mental health issues you wear what seems like tons of masks, the first thing to go wrong when something bad happens, lets blame those with mental illness. With my mental health issues, I never felt the need to destroy anyone but myself. When Mom and Dad would fight in high school, I Would sneak down behind the house and scrape my arms out with rocks, because using blades  would make me sick, because blood sent me into seizures. So the rocks scraped blood under the skin and the pain from the yelling seemed to just melt away, but eventually the rocks didn’t work anymore and would resort to wire hangers. Anything to melt the pain away from the yelling.

Another mask that was mine was that I was Daddy’s girl growing up. But that is what it looked like from the outside. Alone my Dad would scold me and put me down. Like coming home from my boyfriends during the snow, my Dad pulled over and I had no idea what was about to come. Because by the time I was a teen I was no longer his little girl and not perfect enough. I was not an honor student, I barely graduated high school. I seemed to be a crutch with boys and men, because my Dad never wanted me, so maybe one of them would.

I let so many men just use and take advantage of me, because for the most part they had wanted me. I to this day at 37 years old do not know what good wanting me feels like, I accept twisted. I settle for second or last because it is what I am used to.

Now I wear this fear mask, afraid to mess up because I will end up in jail again. Funny the only crimes I ever committed against my father is that to try to hard. The night I got into trouble was just out of surgery and he had wanted me out. As usual, that was the story of my life for yrs, I used to sleep outside on porches, I even stayed one night on the tracks, as long as my presence was not known was the best place for me. Or so I thought. So because he made up this story I am now on probation for 23 months with 1 year left to go. I know that I can do this but it is still very hard. I feel like a bug constantly being burned by the sun under a magnifying glass.

I want to take these masks off and all I want is to be happy. Good enough, good enough for me and maybe someone in my future. I have watched God move through my life, he has given me these amazing gifts. The gift of words and the power that they use. I just want these masks gone, just so you can see ME. April 2018 130

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