breathingwithdifficulty

[breathingwithdifficulty]

my childhood was wasted on me. take me back. i want quiet summer nights chasing fireflies. i want my grandma wrapping me in a warm towel after my nightly bath. i want my mom helping me decorate my valentines day mailbox for elementary school. i want my sister helping me well my spelling homework. i want to be able to knock on my parents bedroom door after a nightmare. i want to be running barefoot in the cornfields behind my house looking for lost golfballs. i want to be chasing down the ice cream truck on a warm summer weekend. i want my mom rubbing my back as i get sick in the middle of the night. i want to ask my parents for permission to go to my friend's house. i want a bowl of kraft mac n cheese, the recipe they don't make anymore. i want someone to sprinkle cinnamon on my applesauce for me. i want to play mario kart with my dad on the wii and he lets me be player one. i want to be giggling with my sister at nightly prayer.

take me back.

9:36pm | Friday | 4/11/25

[breathingwithdifficulty]

i (hopefully) graduate in less than 2 months and while i am having a lot of feelings regarding my impending entrance into the “real world”, im also having some complicated feelings about the ceremony itself.

my college allots 4 tickets per graduate for the ceremony. my plan was for each ticket to go to a member of my closest family - the ones that have helped me the most throughout these past 4 years. this includes my grandmother, my dad, my sister, and, controversially, my stepmom.

i am perfectly content with this lineup, personally. if i had 5 tickets, my mom would be invited as well, but i only have 4, and if im thinking in terms of who i WANT to see on my graduation date, she’s not in the top 4.

but my family is telling me i need to change my priorities. my stepmom and dad both told me that they want me to invite my mom instead of my stepmom. i understand the logic - she’s my mom, as she always has been and always will be. but…

i dunno, i just don’t want to have to be worried about her little comments and her reaction and making sure everyone is civil and happy and my family sits separately and just… everything. im already gonna be overwhelmed by the crowd and stage and gowns and everything else, so the idea of having to be a moderator and having the focus shift from me finally getting a degree after working my ass off for 4 years to my mom being dramatic is less than ideal.

granted, everything could go perfectly fine. in fact, everything probably would. i’d say an 85% chance it would be fine with minimal issues, if i were to invite my mom and she actually showed up. even that’s a question. what if she doesn’t want to come? im assuming she would, because yk, she’s my mom and she does actually love me even if she’s got some mental issues, but i also know that the last text conversation i had with her was me tearing her tf up (rightfully so i think) so maybe her feelings have changed.

i dunno, i just don’t see why she needs to be there? we’ve barely spoken the last 4 years, she hasn’t shown any indication of putting in effort to help herself and our relationship, and she’s just not a part of my support system at this point. i just feel like inviting her will taint the vibe, if that makes sense? it’ll be bittersweet regardless but at least, if she’s not there, i can pretend it doesn’t matter to me? i dunno.

just feeling complicated.

3:02pm

3/24/25

[breathingwithdifficulty]

thinking about the fact that, during one of the lowest points of my life, my teenage angst years, i had a private social media account (like this one, but worse. more cringe) where, among other things, i would post about how lost and scared i felt. about how i was sad and miserable and wanted to die. i would post these things and told no one about them in real life. it was my outlet but, also, it was a cry for help when i felt like i couldn’t ask anyone in my real life for help.

anyways. i didn’t know this until YEARS after the fact, after i was in therapy (still years ago though), but my mom KNEW. the whole time. she had found my page and knew it was me (i wasn’t very subtle. again, teen years) and said NOTHING. when she told me this, i was so shocked.

not only did she said nothing to me about it directly, but she kept up with it. she told my EXTENDED FAMILY about it. she asked what she should do. she said she was worried to intervene, worried that i would be scared off, and i can’t even blame her because she was probably right.

but the thing that gets me is not the invasion of privacy. it’s not even her telling my relatives about it. it’s the fact that she knew for YEARS that i was actively suffering from chronic anxiety and depression and not only did nothing to help it, but she actively prevented me from getting therapy and professional help for years past that point. at the time, when i first asked for therapy and was told no, i didn’t know that she knew the extent of my misery. i thought she just thought i was fine and that’s why i didn’t need therapy.

but. fuck. to think that she read my poems about feeling alone and scared and hurting myself and STILL denied me the ONE TIME i begged her for help? i was sobbing, screaming through the house about how miserable i was. AND THEY STILL DID NOTHING.

i couldn’t imagine looking at my child like that and saying no. i can’t imagine letting my child suffer alone.

there’s no point to this post. im just thinking about it

10:53pm

3/8/25

[breathingwithdifficulty]

very happy to see your post and know you're alive, it's been a while. sorry you have to go no contact with your mom, love. it sucks, but i hope you'll get some peace of mind

thank you, i hope you're doing well and are finding peace too

[breathingwithdifficulty]

i think my mom and i's relationship is officially over. after a particularly passive-aggressive string of texts and the implication that i'm not putting in any effort to contact her, i sent a long ass text that basically just laid everything out in plain english for her. not that i haven't done that before, but this was less diplomatic. more real.

it got no response. of course it didn't. a couple days later, i sent her a happy birthday text as a way to let her know i still care. i still love her. she's my mom, and we have good memories and interactions that i miss. but she didn't respond to that either. it's been days since then.

maybe this is what i wanted. now i don't have to worry about her texting me, right? now i don't need to overthinking visiting my mamaw because my mom might get pissed about it. that's good, right? really, no-contact is the best for both of us, considering her lack of willingness to seek help and my need for distance.

but fuck, man. sometimes, like now, i just want my mom. my mommy. my mom who put my hair in a ponytail every morning before school. my mom who always wanted to see my report card so she could check up on my schoolwork. my mom who loves christmas and mickey mouse and grey's anatomy. my mom who's favorite flowers are sunflowers and whose favorite color is yellow because it's the happiest. my mom who wasn't happy but tried to make sure i was. my mom who wanted me to be nothing like her and was devastated when that didn't happen.

i want my mom but she hasn't existed for a long time. i've held on hope that she's in there somewhere, and some delusional part of me has always thought that, maybe, if i keep trying and pushing and being kind and patient then maybe she'd come back. but i don't think that's happening. i lost her to mental illness, addiction, and narcissism.

i hope parents whose children have gone no-contact know that is is never easy. i love my mom. i was a mommy's girl from birth, and all i ever wanted was to be around her. you think i wanted to cut her out of my life? you think i wanted to hear a slew of abusive language and emotional manipulation from the woman who raised me? of course i didn't. i've cried and screamed and cried some more over the idea that my mom's love for me is conditional, in a way that a parent's love never should be.

it doesn't matter though. my trying made no difference. i can't make my mom return, i can't change her fate without sacrificing my own life and, even then, it still might not matter. my mom's life is in her own hands, i just wish she would be more careful with it.

anyways. that's my dump of mommy issues. for those of you out there who are struggling with complex or toxic relationships with their parents - i see you. i feel you. i am you. and im sorry.

thanks for reading.

1/9/25 | 2:50AM |

[breathingwithdifficulty]

sometimes i worry im so mean and cruel and unforgiving because i resent certain past friends or situations or people.

but then i remember that i forgave my sister despite everything and i still talk to my mom despite her words and my father despite our interactions.

and then i remember being called "people pleaser" and "push over" and "doormat" and think, yeah, maybe they've got a point.

im still trying to find that balance between cruel and obliging. i want to have my boundaries respected, and when they're not, i need to be firm, but not explosive. understanding, but not kind. its the push and pull of my endlessly expansive life

11:47pm

11/19/23

[breathingwithdifficulty]

going thru old posts right now and thinking thinking thinking because im high right now and at my dad's house and we were talking about my mom but like.

when i think of my mom these days, and past things she's done to me, i think of her main problem as "neglect" or "alcoholism" not outright cruelty. and yeah you can blame this scenario on alcoholism, and i know alcoholism extends outside of just being drunk, but i remember this. vaguely, but i do.

this was the middle of the day on a sunday (had to look that one up). she wasn't drunk, i don't think, just crabby and probably tipsy. i don't remember why i was upset, and maybe if i did i would try and justify this like "oh well she probs tried to help and i wouldn't let her" or "i was being difficult" but then i think of that and realize that i can't imagine saying that to someone i really care about like, ever. especially my kid. my baby faced teen. and not apologizing after wards (that i can remember). shit man.

and this was pre-divorce. there worse shit after this. and maybe this seems so small because she didn't even curse, scream, hit, etc, this was just mean. when i try to comfort myself while crying, if i pictured saying this to that little girl i would ache. and she just did it for nothing.

my chest hurts.

11:41pm

11/19/23

me: *full on sobbing and talking about how overwhelmed i am and on the verge of a panic attack*

mom: stop crying

me: why?

mom: because i don’t wanna hear it

01/13/19 1:47 PM

[breathingwithdifficulty]

going to my dads house is difficult for multiple reasons, but one i don't often talk about is just how the environment is so uncomfortable compared to how it was when i lived there.

obviously almost all of my stuff is gone, and my dad's now-wife (i still can't call her my stepmom, its just a mental block for me) has moved in all her stuff, but it's just smaller things that get to me.

he changed the lightbulbs in my old room. it used to just be one orange bulb, because it was less harsh on my eyes, and now its two bright white ones. there's no little lamps or anything to turn on so i either have to sent in darkness or complete brightness, and its bothersome. its too much either way.

he likes to turn the a/c fan off now. it used to always be on, but now he says he likes the silence, so he keeps it off most of the time. i have to turn it on because, to me, the silence is stifling. it almost feels like that noise-cancelling pressure you get with nice headphones. not painful, but just heavy.

i don't know why i came back here for a whole week. i just wanted to see my friend a bit earlier, but i wish i had stayed home an extra day or two. i feel insane because i don't particularly mind staying here, but i just would rather be home, even if i'd be alone and maybe lonely there. im still lonely here, but that's just sadder.

ive only been home a day and my dad has (all jokingly, mind you, always joking) called my friend a slut because she was wearing a crop top, called my roommates mom a pedophile because she offered me a place to live after college if i needed it (which was incredibly kind because she knows my difficulties with my parents and hasn't even met me in person), made a joke about women belonging in the kitchen, and had an uncomfortable conversation when i opened up enough to tell him i was romantically talking to someone. not to mention the dozens of times so far he has outright ignored me or walked away while i was talking (even if i was answer a question that he asked in the first place).

this is all difficult to communicate with people because none of it is outright painful or mean, it's just uncomfortable. when im here, it feels like im having to parent my own dad like "is that a nice thing to say?" or "let's rephrase that" and having to be mature and put together because he's not. and his wife is nice, she asks how i am and what im doing but i don't think she really wants to know. she asks to be nice and because she likes me, but sometimes its just like talking to a wall who's smiling at me constantly.

the holidays are hard. im glad i have my own place now, and i wish i would've stayed there just a little longer. my sister isn't even coming to stay too, so i have no one to endure this with. sometimes its really exhausting just being home, where no one really listens and my bedsheets aren't my own and i have to dig thru the closet for musty blankets because i didn't bring any.

i brought my weighted dinosaur, which made me feel a bit silly carrying it out from the car, but he helps. even if it rubs me wrong when my dad throws him or punches his stomach or when my friend lets her dogs sniff and lick at him. it's sooo silly, i know this, but it's like it makes every inch of me be all spikey, child-like, saying "no, that's mine, don't hurt it, it's mine" over a dino.

damn.

10:50pm

11/19/23

[breathingwithdifficulty]

[breathingwithdifficulty]

i don't feel good. i feel little. words are hard to find and i want to talk to someone but its late and no one is awake and i dont really have anything to say.

i feel bad for myself. like, not really the myself of the now, she doesn't need my pity, but like my small self. and maybe that is the myself of the now. at least, that's what it feels like.

this year its gotten progressively harder to remind myself that my parents love me. i know they do. they do, right? but like my dad never visits and my mom doesn't text anymore and no one knows my interests or my hobbies or what im doing in school and it just feels so lonely sometimes.

most of the time i feel normal. grown. i have my own apartment and my own money and my own life. but sometimes my car breaks down or an assignment makes me cry or i look at my bank account and i just want an adult that i can call and say "i feel sad, please help" and actually get help.

i don't feel good. i feel sick-sad, where my stomach is all twisty and my hands feel like they're buzzing and i keep rubbing my cheek on my stuffed animal just to feel its softness. i feel scared. i feel alone.

it makes me feel insane sometimes, this distance between my parents and i. it makes me feel desperate, crazy for seeking out this parental relationship with any adult that comes into my life.

my friend's mom sent me a starbucks giftcard. i cried. a different friend's mom bought me a crockpot because my friend told her ive been struggling cooking meals for myself. a different friends mom offered to buy me groceries because i was worried i wouldn't be able to afford them. each of them have had more one-on-one, genuine conversations with me than i've had with my parents in the last few years. i feel sick. i went to my professor's house and he watched me accidentally burn 2 marshmallows in a row and said "do you want me to make you one?" and i literally could've cried then and there. i went on a date with a girl who talked about how she loves her mom so much and knows she's her number one supporter. she asked me about my relationship with my parents and i didn't even wanna say it. i feel insane.

i feel pitiful, but i just wanna be taken care of for a bit. just wanna lay down on the couch with my head in someones lap and not have to worry about taking care of myself for a minute. it doesn't seem so much to ask but im wondering if it really is. if im too much.

when i get like this, sometimes i get a thought like "i miss my dad" or "i miss my mom" but then i see them and it doesn't make the ache go away. i don't miss them, i miss something i don't think ive had in a long time (maybe ever) and its devastating because i don't know if i'll ever get it. i passed the age where i can sit in my mom's lap and cry because i got a hole in my favorite socks, or where i can call my dad and ask him what i should have for dinner because i can't make a decision right now. i feel so old and so young and so sad.

thanksgiving is coming up and im looking forward to it for the food and the company but like. i can't even be myself around my family half the time, not because they would disapprove (some of them would) but because they don't care. it's always "how are your grades? still in your major? where do you live now?" and not like "so what've you been up to? done anything fun? how are you? what do you like to do?" because in their mind, they don't need to ask those questions, they think they already know. they think im still the quiet, book-nerd, shy girl in the back of the class. which, part of me still is, but i like other things now. im another person now.

every year i get asked what i want for christmas and every year im happy with what i get. im not hard to shop for, i don't think, but especially these past years ive realized that like... no one knows what i want because they don't know what i like. part of that is because im intensely insecure about my interests and part of it because i have a reason to be - id get made fun of and there's certain things i just really don't wanna hear shit about.

so this year i sucked it up and made a christmas list. an actual one, with stuff i like on there, even if my family doesn't understand it or know the tv show references or why i want so many stickers. i made a big list of everything ive secretly been wanting, ranging from like $1 stickers to like $40 sweaters. it was oddly scary for me. it still is. i don't know if anyone will get me anything off that list, but if they do, im scared for the reaction, just a bit. i don't wanna open something on christmas and get "yeah, so what is that? i don't get it" or "that sounds gay" when i explain it, or "okay..." when they're disinterested.

i know its a little silly but i don't really care. im sad. my head hurts. its late but im not tired and i just want a hug. i wanna rock back and forth and hold my weighted dinosaur and chew on his horns. im so done with this

12:16am

11/14/23

[breathingwithdifficulty]

happy early halloween!! 🎃

well, i saw this after halloween, but thank you!! happy belated halloween to you

[breathingwithdifficulty]

this is gonna sound so strange but i think im only just now realizing that making other people mad doesn't make me a bad person. like. other people can be upset with me, or annoyed, or inconvenienced, and that doesn't inherently make me a bad person, especially since i didn't do it on purpose.

like ive always had this idea that if i make someone mad, i need to apologize so that we can be friends again, and if i don't apologize, then im in the wrong and things will never be the same and they will always harbor some sort of resentment towards me. maybe it seems ridiculous, but like this is how i genuinely thought, at my core, about my relationships with other people.

and then i was talking a couple weeks ago with a friend, and i made her mad accidentally over something stupid, and my first instinct was panic. i was like "how can i fix this? can i apologize? im so sorry. please forgive me. don't be mad at me." and she came back to me like "dude. sometimes i just get mad. and then i get over it. and we're cool again now." and it just kinda. stuck with me, i guess.

at first this was annoying to hear. what do you mean i can't fix it? what do you mean i can't avoid it? then she referred to me as a people pleaser in another interaction and it kinda came together. ive always heard the phrase "you can't make everyone happy" and i was like well yeah. of course you can't, people are always gonna be upset. but i thought this was more referring to like people that are angry at life or really negative or just don't agree with my general existence, not my friends. my family. but it is. its talking about everyone and that kinda blew my mind.

i try so hard to keep the peace, but sometimes someone being mad at you has nothing to do with you and has everything to do with them. maybe you say something you thought was nice, something you would want to hear in their shoes, and you make someone annoyed. this doesn't mean you said the wrong thing, you said what you thought was right, and, yeah, moving forward, maybe don't say that again, but it's not your fault, you couldn't have known. its all just learning and loving and sometimes to do both you have to piss your loved ones off.

i dunno. just a crazy concept ive been considering.

9:51PM

9/26/23

[breathingwithdifficulty]

this past weekend, my sister looked at me, watery-eyed, and asked "when did you get so pretty?"

i blushed, laughed it off, and took that little compliment with me for the rest of the evening. it wasn't the time nor the place for a deep conversation, but maybe it is now, just between me and myself.

maybe it was when i stopped caring. maybe it was when i started. maybe it's now - the kinda in-between stage. for a long time, i didn't care about my appearance. like, i did, because i was self-conscious as fuck, but i had kinda committed to the mindset of "im ugly and there's nothing i can do about it. its just me" and, that, + enough depression to make getting out of bed difficult + sensory issues + difficulty making decisions meant that for a large portion of my childhood, i was stagnantly ugly.

i wore the same outfit every day - a sweatshirt, leggings, long socks that wouldn't ride down when i walked, and a high ponytail. it was comfortable, it made me feel hidden, safe, but i never thought it was fashionable. in fact, i had multiple people in my life beg for me to wear something else, saying it was too ugly, but i didn't listen. i didn't care if it was ugly or not, i always felt ugly regardless of what i wore, so might as well be comfortable.

i still have days like that - where i say "fuck it" and where sweatpants and a ratty tshirt for 3 days in a row. where i brush my hair just enough to pull it back out of my face. so don't get me wrong, at my core, i am still that little girl, and if i could wear the same 5 outfits every week, i probably would.

but i care a little bit too. i care about what other people think of me, yes, and i always have, but i care how i feel about myself now too. i like looking in the mirror most of the time. i like seeing myself and smiling and walking around like im hot shit even though im not. its hard sometimes, god is it hard, but like. theres a certain reward in allowing yourself to be seen. allowing yourself to be pretty.

so i dunno when. i dunno what. anxiety meds? self-confidence (that i only have half the time)? better fashion taste? puberty? who knows. but im pretty now. and i think maybe that little girl was pretty too, and just didn't let herself see it.

9:36PM

9/26/23

[breathingwithdifficulty]

hello hello! i hope you're doing alright these days, and if you're not, i hope that changes very soon.

hey there friend, im pretty sure this anon message is from literal months ago but i just now saw it - oops! thanks so much for reaching out though, i am doing well and feeling good at the moment. i hope the same for you and many best wishes <3

[breathingwithdifficulty]

it's late, ive been online a lot today, and i just wanna document where i feel like im at right now in my own semi-private way.

school started back up a few days ago - hard to believe im an upperclassman in college now. like, wowie. part of me never thought id get this far, so that's cool.

im feeling good about life right now - ive had more energy this week than expected, ive been making lunch and dinner for myself (most days), going to bed at a decent time (again, most days), and trying really hard to pay attention in my classes. im not falling asleep in lecture or taking naps in the library, at least not yet. i feel happier, more refreshed. i still feel grumpy when i wake up in the morning and i don't eat the best and im on my phone too much but im learning to like how i look more and im being kinder to myself when things are harder and im realizing that maybe... ive got this.

i always hesitate to take in these wins, these periods of highs, because i worry that voicing them will somehow take them away. i also know that im supposed to be on my period next week, so i might look back at this post in a few days and wonder "wow, who was she?" but right now im okay. my anxiety hasn't been overwhelming me, i can get over awkward social situations way easier, i don't dwell on little things as much. i still worry, i still get anxious when my sister hangs up abruptly or my roommate is oddly quiet, but its more manageable. ive been keeping my room pretty picked up, cleaning my dishes near-daily, and i even cleaned out the fridge on a whim yesterday just to help out my roommate while she was not feeling well.

im trying to work more on moving with my energy flows rather than against it - when im tired, i rest, and when i have some extra energy, i use it to help my future self out. well, kinda. im trying to, at least. that's the goal i have in mind and, well, the goal is half the battle, right?

its getting better. and im tired now, with it being so late on a friday. so i think im gonna rest and just let myself enjoy this

2:03AM

8/26/23

[breathingwithdifficulty]

what they dont tell you about growing up as a very lonely little girl is that you grow up and still a part of you remains that very lonely little girl

[breathingwithdifficulty]

it may seem especially cruel to be angry at your mother when knowing that she too is a victim. but you also have to know that being a victim is not a qualification to not treat others like human beings. looking away from the fact you’re her own child that she failed to protect and love, she also failed to treat you with basic human respect. the way she treats you is unfair and her being traumatized does not make what she does to you okay. it doesn’t give her “special treatment” from fulfilling her responsibilities as a parent. the system is really fucked up for doing generations of women like that, but sadly it’s a part of our mothers’ responsibility to break that cycle