For all that I love home, it’s also a place I hate the most.
I hate the feeling of lying in my bedroom, frustrated for getting yelled at to do something I had already done, and hearing my mother talk about how disappointed she is in my “behavior.”
I hate that I can’t force myself into a better mood… I can’t force myself to “get over it” when I become irritated.
I miss feeling my feelings with you.
I feel guilty for frustration; I feel guilty for being tired. I feel guilty for being irritable, and I feel guilty for wanting space or wanting quiet. I feel guilty for not cheerfully completing every task asked of me or suggested to me. I feel guilty when I don’t do things right away, like wash the dishes, or help unload the groceries. It’s almost harder to complete any “tasks” or “chores” because I know if I don’t get to it fast enough or do it grudgingly or don’t do enough I’ll just feel guilty all over again.
I hate this, babe. I hate
I know I’m overly emotional at the moment because I’m running on very little sleep, a very high stress time, and I’m on my period. But it’s really, really hard for me right now and I miss you a lot. You’re not disappointed in me at every turn. I don’t fail to meet your expectations.
I wish home was a different place than it is, and even though in the last six years I’ve gotten better at not expecting perfection, every time I’m here these feelings of not being good enough and disappointing her wash over me. I’m afraid to do anything for fear of doing it wrong. I think I probably isolate a lot here because I don’t want to deal with the pressure of possibly disappointing her or making her mad. Every interaction is dangerous.
Among all the other things I love about you, I love the way you make me feel. I get waves of inadequacy and guilt and “not good enough” feelings, because of course, but when I’m with you they pass. I don’t isolate. I don’t fear interaction. And frankly, this is the first time I’ve really felt that way, and the discrepancy between my life with you and being at home is really quite astonishing.
Lots to talk to my therapist about, haha. I’m sorry, this is a mopey Christmas eve email. I probably won’t send it till after Christmas eve anyway. 🙂 Happy Boxing Day!
I love you.