Imperfect Cupcakes

Woke up this morning feeling like my back and hips were wrong.

Sometimes it feels like I'm trapped in a nightmare and then I remember that this is real life.

Or like I’m screaming and no one can hear me.

Pain has decreased. Or at least my emotional response to it has.

Listen, peanut butter soufflé will not rid me of a whole disorder.

I noticed that there was a name at the top of quick add on Snapchat.

“Dad from your contacts”

But that bitmoji obviously wasn’t him and neither was that username.

My mom disconnected his number years ago so I knew it had been circulating and used by someone else. This was just the first time I saw proof.

In my mind, I let myself believe he would still pick up or answer if I called. Which is why I haven’t called. Because I don’t want to hear that it’s not you.

Lower back felt out of the place. I laid on the floor where I felt and heard it crunch and crack. Pelvis is extremely stiff. Tree trunk lower body feeling again.

That’s why I can’t get close to anyone anymore. What is the point if it’s all about feeling good and having fun but when shit gets hard, everyone leaves.

That’s why I don’t want to hear any bullshit about not having to do this alone or to reach out if I’m depressed.

Woke up with bad pain at the bottom of my head, neck, upper and lower back, right hip and thigh.

Head

Neck

Shoulders

Upper back

Lower back

Right hip

Right thigh

But any time we have spent together since my dad got sick has felt like there was a giant wall between us. Which I really hated. I didn’t like feeling so far and so different from both of you. Because we used to be so close. Raised in a religion that raised us as sisters and I took that to heart. My siblings didn’t actually start talking to me until I graduated high school. To me, you were my family. As good as blood. And it still feels that way despite shit hitting the fan 9 years ago. Y’all just don’t know. It hurts me when y’all talk about me like a memory. I never wanted to be that. It kills me to think of the life I would have had if my dad never got sick, if he never died, if the church never abandoned us, and if I never lost my faith and was still blissfully in love with God.

There’s so much hurt that I still feel and it feels like I never even got to sit down and be real with y’all about just how hurt I’ve been for almost a decade now. It still stings. I can’t look at your Instagram stories. Because it negates the argument that I gave myself in my head when I tried to reason with myself about trying to be friends again. I told myself that they just don’t show love that way. That’s just not them. But apparently I don’t know y’all at all. Because so many new people feel so loved by you. And I can’t sit here and say that that doesn’t make me question what was wrong with me. Why did y’all not care about me like that. All I ever wanted was to love and be loved by you. I sound fucking crazy, I know how crazy I sound. But I’m not crazy. Because from around age 8 to 20 all I have are pictures of us.

Sometimes I think you guys just moved on easily because you still feel the comfort of a support system that consists of God and the church and I haven’t felt that since UCC forgot to show up to my dads death bed.