How to Care

Sometimes the demons get to my head and spread to my heart and I believe them.

Luckily, this isn't all of the time.

But it still happens.

I feel like such a failure for being single tonight. I feel like I'm fitting in less and less with the people around me. I feel like my two best friends are closer to each other and are pulling away from me---or maybe I'm pulling away from them. I don't know.

I had a counseling appointment this week where we made goals. One of the goals was taking care of myself---learning to put myself first sometimes.
I had been telling my counselor how I refuse to stand up for myself if I think it'll mean hurting someone else's feelings. I can't do it. Having a "talk" with my friends about how I'm feeling left out seems like a conversation where they will be offended or hurt in the end. After explaining all of this to her, she looked at me and said, "Wendy, then who is going to protect you? Who is going to take care of you?"

And the answer is simple.

No one.

I am not a priority in anyone's life. I don't have a spouse who puts me first. My children rely on me daily. My friends help sometimes. I seem to always be putting myself last on the list so that I can make sure everyone else is pleased and happy.

It's really exhausting.

But I do it because it seems like the right thing to do. I like helping other people. Honestly, a part of me hopes they'll help me in return---sometimes this happens and sometimes it doesn't---but either way, I'm still a rescuer. I don't know how to NOT be a rescuer.

I don't know how to put myself first.

I feel like I've been last on everyone else's lists for so long that there seems to be no hope for ever being a priority to anyone.

I feel so full of doubt and grief tonight. My counselor says grieving what's happened won't ever completely go away. I didn't really like the thought of that. I didn't like thinking about the fact that divorce is now a part of my story and that my trauma affects me often.

I feel like this will never end, like I will always be this Broken Wendy that everyone sees me as. I'll never be whole again. I'll never be strong enough to help others in a healthy way while still making sure I'm helping myself.

Instead, I'll kill myself making sure everyone else is receiving help and love and service. I'll slap a smile on my face and tell my friends nothing is wrong. I'll pretend that I've beat my eating disorder and that I don't give a damn if I never get married.

And on the inside, I'll be screaming and crying and feeling hopeless.