But for who? I don’t feel like this house is a home any more.
I don’t feel like I want to be here any more.
But it doesn’t matter. Because apparently I don’t matter. How I feel doesn’t matter. Because apparently I am not the one in crisis. Apparently I always make everything about me, when it’s my step daughter who is in crisis. She is in charge. With her illness. Her actions. Her lies and deceptions. She calls the shots.
And my home doesn’t feel like home any more.
Doesn’t feel safe any more.
It’s the place where I am too scared to ask her little sisters to wake her up, just in case she took an overdose and is lying dead in her bed. Or they find her in a pool of blood from self harming too much.
But none of this matters. Because it’s all about my step daughter. It’s all about anorexia.
“Maybe you should use this opportunity to sit down and go over the ground rules again.” they say. Problem is: She KNOWS the ground rules, she just breaks them anyway. Goes through my stuff. Tries to break into the safe to get access to painkillers. When confronted she says “Oh but I can’t help it when I feel like that.” – And so I need to live with it. Every day. Living back in a house with someone I can’t trust.
And I hate it.
I used to love this place. This was my safe space. The first time I felt at home. Even when I was diagnosed with cancer four months after we moved here – it was always my safe space. All through treatment. Through chemo. Through feeling as sick as a dog, through losing my hair, through losing the skin under my feet, through my finger and toe nails falling off. This space always felt like my safe space. And it doesn’t any more.
And there is nothing I can do about it.
Because I, apparently and clearly, don’t matter.
How I feel doesn’t matter…
There you are – made this all about me again. Now I feel bad, because I think I somehow need to be bigger than this. But I am hurting. A lot. Want to drink until I don’t care any more. But can’t drink until I don’t care any more, because I am responsible for other children. Their safety. Especially my narcoleptic son with his powerful and dangerous medication.
I’m out of words….