Loopy, Lonely and Lost


Posted on: January 20, 2013

The soundtrack to my time spent at home is, once again, the sound of my mother crying. She wails and weeps, for hours at a time. She sniffles and sobs and shouts at everyone. She says such horrible things, accusing anyone she sees of plotting against her, causing her pain and misery, wanting her dead.

My brother starts teasing, being sarcastic, making jokes out of everything.

My dad gets frustrated and impatient.

And I…I shrink. My mind shrivels up. I lose confidence and strength and determination. I don’t want to turn into her, the way she always blames her feelings on other people really winds me up. But there is never any silence. All I hear, day and night, is her crying.

I know I’m a disappointment. She wants me to love her, and I’m not sure that I do. Or if I do, it’s not enough, or not demonstrative enough. She wanted a pretty doll of a daughter, a little girl she could dress up and model in her image, who’d grow up to be a best friend, someone always on her side. Instead she got me – difficult and argumentative and secretive. No wonder she’s so upset.

I’d like to get away. I fantasise about living alone. I dream about a home that’s peaceful and quiet. But something’s stopping me. It’s not money, I have enough of that (and that’s another thing that makes me feel guilty, that I go to work and get paid and do nothing with my wages. I feel like a miser, but the truth is that there’s so rarely anything I want). It’s fear. I’m unhappy hear but scared that things would be worse somewhere else. I’m scared that the quiet I long for would drive me mad.

I’m scared I’d lose my routine. Stop sleeping, stop eating properly, lose track of the days, stop going to work, fuck everything up. I don’t really believe I have the strength to keep my life together, on my own.

I’m scared my parents would hate me and see it as an act of betrayal, for me to say I want to live elsewhere, alone.

Everyone I know, everyone I used to know, their lives are moving on. And I’m stuck. I look to the future and I can’t see anything ever changing. I imagine running away. Just walking out of the house one day, getting on the first train to depart the local station, and moving until I find somewhere I feel comfortable.

But I’m never brave enough to do the things I imagine. I stay still. I sit, I breathe, I continue to be, and I try to pretend I can’t hear the crying from downstairs.


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My name is Laura. I was once told that I have cyclothymia. This blog is mostly where I write about living as a person with extremes and instability of mood, and the history of a life that led to the development of those symptoms.

I complain a lot, I'm very repetitive, unreliable, and I tend to contradict myself.

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January 2013
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