I've noticed that my entries have a tendency to revolve around a common theme. Perhaps it’s because I don’t feel comfortable expressing myself so openly in other places. I have so many outlets- so many safe and understanding outlets, yet it’s sometimes easier to just…write. Sometimes I think people get sick of hearing me bounce around the same ideas in my head over and over. A lot of the things make perfect sense to everyone around me, but I fail to really understand them.
I’ve been feeling a lot of guilt. A whole lot. Perhaps disproportionately so, but either way I can’t seem to stop these feelings of pure culpability. Sometimes I feel vindicated, free and powerful for the steps I’ve taken in my life towards feeling better about my biological situation. Other days I feel like the most selfish bitch on the face of the earth. How could I have made it all about me? I must be a real witch to hurt other people to save myself, save my feelings. It’s not really that I feel unworthy, or that I feel that I am evil. It’s more that I doubt my true intentions. I know that I felt hurt, rejected. This is definitely true. But… what if I did it for the wrong reasons? What if, because I was experiencing feelings of rejection similar to those surrounding my past, I decided to reject them before they could reject me? What sort of fucking psycho would that make me? I know people who do things like this, and I really would prefer not to be one of them. What if, in my sensitivity, I pushed people away who loved me? I know that I’ve destroyed everything we spent 8 years creating. I know that all of it is ruined now, but I can’t seem to truly regret it. I feel guilty, sure, and I question my motives, but I wouldn’t go back and change it and that scares me. The presence of empathy with an absence of the desire to regress makes me uneasy. I suppose you can’t truly regret something unless you would go back and change it. I don’t regret it. I just feel sorry about it, because it’s a sorry situation. I’m sorry that I couldn’t fix things, and perhaps that’s where this guilt is coming from. I failed to repair what had been inexplicably ruined. I couldn’t make it better, and I couldn’t convince myself that it didn’t matter. I couldn’t handle it. Some people say I should have to handle such bullshit, and I know that’s probably true. But where do you draw the line? When should I deal with something just to save someone else’s feelings? When do my needs outweigh someone else’s?
