I wasn't Allowed to play with boys

I wasn't allowed to play with the boys. My brother and cousin got to share a room and stay up playing while I had to be isolated from the fun all because I was a girl. I got dresses and purses, he got sling shots and BB guns. I wasn't allowed to play with the boys.

I was treated as if I was porcelain. I would break if I played with boys. I cheered for the boys, watching them play. All I wanted was to feel included. I didn't want to be fragile anymore. When I told my brother, he taught me to shoot birds, bottles and cans. He included me, he helped me play basketball.

He helped me to drive, but that's where the flaw is. He was more self taught, four wheelers, mini street bikes, he thought he was a pro. Until he wasn't. I finally started cracking, like a spiderweb.

I was alone again. Praying for anyone to include me. I needed someone but nobody ever stayed. I kept quiet, I kept to myself. I kept my emotions down with alcohol. When the alcohol wasn't enough, the pills started to help. Daily struggles swept under the rug of addiction.

Then, one day, someone offered to include me. The exception was I had to be sober. He helped me stop the pills. He weaned me off the alcohol. I was so afraid of the cracks spreading, I tried to keep my distance but I failed. He repaired some of the cracks. We found a home to call our own, we had a baby, it was amazing. Until it wasn't. Our home was sold, we had nowhere else.

We had to share a home with his parents and siblings. I was an outcast, I was so different, never quite good enough. I was raised to defend myself but I was wrong. Silence was key. Just follow the rules and keep your head down. Don't ask for anything. No one owes me anything.

I wasn't included anymore. I tried to help and prove my worth. I was wrong. We're having another baby! It's not good news. I was just his baby's mother. We're going to get married, it's not approved of. We elope, with seven people joining us. He promises to love me forever.

His dad got really sick, so I worked harder to help. I did anything I could. It wasn't good enough. Then a gun got involved. I woke him up, grabbed my child and ran. I knew what a dead bird looked like, and that was good enough for me. I didn't see him for days.

Finally, We found a new home. I was so excited. We didn't have help moving, so we hired someone. He was always at work, so I got a job. I worked as much as possible so I wasn't so alone. It just made things worse. I got sick and had to have surgery. I lost my job. We struggled and it was all my fault. I was too fragile. It was just me and our kids alone. They only saw me cry.

Yay, I'm pregnant again, until I wasn't. I hate myself. I hate my body for killing my baby. I don't want more kids. I'm already too fragile. Oh no, I'm pregnant again. I'm so afraid. I have daily panic attacks. I ask him if we can give it to his aunt and uncle, he says yes. Yay, everyone's happy!

The baby arrives and everyone is excited. I finally did something right, but why does it hurt? I realize I'm alone again. He's at work, the kids are at the sitters. No one cares about me again. I'm alone and isolated. I start drinking again. Wishing for the end.

I talk to my doctor, she understands. She gives me medicine. I stop drinking. I start getting better, but it's not good enough. I clean the house. I get laundry caught up. But I'm lazy. I take the kids out to play and have fun. I'm a bad mom. My vehicle breaks down. I can't ask for help. I'm not allowed to need or want.

I snap. He tells me to speak my truth, but could I handle it? I tried. I started to feel good not having to pretend anymore.

I don't want to pretend anymore. 

Written August 12, 2023