A Few Demons

Some days I don't want to go on. I wish it all would end. Eternal sleep sounds so wonderful sometimes, but I'm a coward. And just when I think it can't get worse, it always does. I was fine until 2008 began, then things slowly started to fall apart. With 2009 beginning, I tried to be optimistic with thoughts that a new year will make things better. Optimism doesn't come as easily as it once did for me. I used to be the person I am in public all the time. But now it's my facade. When I'm alone I can't make my demons go away. The hurt is there. The depression, the lonliness, the holes and gaps. I used to be happy. My aunt Rosie once told me that even bright and early in the morning I woke up with a smile that lights my eyes...My smiles are saved for when I'm around people now, so they can't see what I have become. I don't know me anymore. When I look in the mirror I don't like the person staring back at me. Her eyes are no longer twinkling with smiles. Her mouth is forever frowning. There is a cloud over her, a darkness she can't shake. Tears live on the surface of her irisis....
I've always kept people at a distance, pretend I'm blending in when I'm really not. I guard my heart with every ounce of my being, so sure that everyone is out to break it if I let them in. But, with lots of prying from a friend, I allowed him to penetrate my walls, knock a few holes in them, get too close. And, just as I suspected, I got hurt. Not really badly, but enough to try to rebuild my walls. It is my fault I fell in love with this person, my fault he hurt me. I knew better, but he had pretty words that I fell for. He stopped calling. Stopped caring. My fault my depression escalated to a point I can barely contain. This time when I rebuild the walls around my heart, I'm installing a dragon as well. A large, ferocious beast that no one will ever get past.
Why do I feel I need to guard my heart? How many times has it been betrayed? First, there was mom. I'm not going into details. She just didn't protect me like a mom is supposed to. Didn't protect any of us. Sure she's flawed, everyone is, I still love her. But I guard myself from her as well. Second, dad. I was daddy's girl when I was a kid, he was my hero. Then my image of him was shattered when a few things about him were revealed. Another broken piece of my heart. Third, the man I grew up calling grandpa. Same boat as dad. Fourth, my oldest sister. I put her up on a pedestal, but she really is just a b****. Sorry, but she is. I guess my brother can be fourth with my sister as well. And my other sister. Fifth, and the thing that has haunted me for thirteen years of my life, my stepbrother. He never had my heart, but I should have been able to trust him. It's because of him I am who I am today. Him, and mom's lack of protection. I blame myself, too. Though, according to what "they" say, it's not my fault. But I feel some of the blame should be on me. I never spoke up. Well, once, a couple years ago...
My youngest sister, the only one who I've ever given my heart to without regret, was having a huge fight with mom. Up until that year I always took every ounce of blame for our childhood, never placing any on my mother, who could do no wrong in my eyes. But my beautiful baby sister opened my eyes and made me realize mom should shoulder some of my blame. Diana, my baby sister, was more than willing to place fault where it belonged: on mom. She said what should have been said many years ago, let it all out and told mom exactly how she felt about it. I had never been that brave, and I was proud of Diana. Then mom, playing martyr, turned to me, not understanding Diana's pain and hurt. I yelled at mom too, for the first time in my entire life, I yelled at her. And I told her what my stepbrother had done. Shock was on her face, and I felt a weight leave me, I started to cry. "Really? He did that?" she asked, like she couldn't believe it. Yeah, he did. More than once. I had only told three people before that day: Diana, my friend Maria, and my cousin Nancy. I told mom, yelled it at mom, then got in my car and drove away. I stopped a few miles down the road at a McDonalds and cried there in my car in the parking lot for almost an hour. Until I had no more tears left in me. Then I went to my brother's apartment where I was living at the time, pretended I was fine, and went to bed. Mom, never once since that night, ever mentioned what I told her about my stepbrother. Never brought it up. That kind of hurts me, like she doesn't care what he did to me. Like I matter so little to her. I refused to talk to her for about three months after that fight. My sister who I live with now would tell me after talking to mom on the phone, "Mom says she loves you." I'd shrugged, chosing not to say anything in return. But I knew mom was hurting because I stopped talking to her. I knew my silence was killing her. She stressed about it, cried all the time, left me messages on my phone because I wouldn't answer. I heard the tears in her voice. It killed me that I was causing my mother pain. Then she got a heart murmur. Scared me to death, I broke my silence, slowly let her back in my life. Even though she has caused me much pain for many reasons, I couldn't bear knowing that I was causing her pain. So I took most of the blame I had put on her shoulders, and I put it back in place on mine. I carry it with me everywhere, it hurts. But I don't know what else to do...