the thing with feathers

I never thought I would be this old and feel so misunderstood by those who have known me my whole life.

No one is here and what a wonderful thing that is to know. I miss who and what I was when this was my sanctuary. I find myself again here now because of how much I wish I could go back to the person that made this. I miss my dad, I miss people believing me when I say I am sick and I will always be sick, I miss feeling like my social presence was for fun instead of the only means I could be heard. So much has changed and yet it's all the same but worse.

Love is so different than what we were taught, but that doesn't surprise me when I wasn't even taught the basics of my own body or what a friendship should look like much less a promising career. I fell like some regency era flower who no one wanted to wilt and yet wilting is inevitable and I am left panicking, picking up the fallen bits. I still can't spell aftwr a bachelor's and a masters but I've had a prestigious career of giving over of myself. I still can't speak but I've made more than one important speech to hundreds. But now I am fatter and sadder and less myself than I've ever been and I have to hang my hat on what I have left and what i have done. Which my strongest supporters would tell you wasn't worth mentioning. Hoping it's enough to be loved? To be hired? To be anything? I'd really really really rather not but I can't fathom that abstaining looks like so I don't have a choices. I don't know what to do anymore. I've met the goals of being a successful adult and it was pointless.

My dad died. And it's the worst thing that's ever happened to me. I lost the one person who was usually on my side even if he didn't speak up. I lost the kindest man I knew in the world. I lost the parent that was still trying to parent me even if he wasn't sure how. I lost the person I thought would be here for me at least another 20 years. And now I'm stuck with a narcasisstic mother, grandparents who screamed at me for being ungrateful at my father's death, an aunt who has said more about my weight and eating habits than she has said in comfort of my dad dying and a grandmother who doesn't understand why I won't just swoop in and save my mother rather than just dwelling on my own needs. And all i want to do is cry. I cry every day, many, many times a day. I can't go to the store and look at oatmeal without crying cause my dad ate oatmeal and that's enough to wreck me. And there is something to make me cry in every store, every venue, every day. I want to grieve so badly but the only outlet I have found is crying. When I try to talk about my grief, no one wants to hear or it just doesn't compare with their own grief or they think I'm crazy for crying over "oatmeal". I just want a situation where my grief can be loud and messy and unrestrained but I haven't found that place yet outside of holding my dog close and soaking her fur or sobbing into the carpet until my partner realizes I've gone beyond helping. I want to punch every doctor that put us here, I want to throttle every family member that did us so so wrong, I want to slap my grandparents across the face for writing and publishing an obituary before me and my brother could. I was robbed of my dad by the world and robbed of the basic decencies of death by his family and I was robbed of my little time with him by the shit medical system of this country and now I am robbed of grieving by those who think they are hurting more than me. I just want my dad back. I'm so mad and so sad I just end up screaming and I wish someone would hear my screams and understand.