I have gotten to a point, I guess, where I can watch what is going on in my head and see where it goes. Which is great.

So I got triggered tonight. Mainly because I miss C. I am trying to support her. It’s not seeming to accomplish anything, but I keep doing the things I am able to do that might be supportive. She is no longer responding, and the picture she posted on her Facebook shows distrust.

Anyway, meanwhile she responded to someone else—another semi-mentor figure in her life that I don’t like and don’t trust. “Inbox needed.” Now, she has blocked me on Messenger. I think she might not remember doing that, and it’s a terrible thing to lose little bits of time when you did things. She can chat with some other person, but not me.

That’s the background.

But I was feeling really bad, and I thought, “I feel discarded. What is going on inside me is the feeling of being discarded.” I just named what it was.

What I thought next had to do with this being at least in part about the past. What I thought was this feeling is from being discarded by my parents. I have been holding things up, side-by-side in my mind. Things in relationships now. Things from my parents. And I thought, whether or not I am being discarded now, which I may not be, it is okay for a 15-year-old girl with a traumatic past to discard me. It is really okay for nearly anyone to be done with me after using me. It’s not nice, but people do that sometimes. Not great, not what I want, but manageable.

It is not okay for my parents to discard me. It was not okay for them to be done with me after using me. I have this feeling inside of what it is like to be discarded, because I have been discarded by people and at a stage of life when no one should have discarded me.

Not everyone’s going to like me or be nice to me. Sometimes people might take advantage of me. I might not always be respected, and sometimes I trust people who hurt me, but I am an adult and the equal of most people who might not treat me well.

But my parents discarded me. My parents. When I was six—or younger, but six comes to mind.

Advertisements