Useless Rage

Sometimes there is just a need to write it all it, put into words what has been forming in my head for weeks. The problem in that is that it then becomes real, it is no longer just me and my crazy thoughts or imagination, it is actually real. And that is scarier than it should be. I hate all of the doctors who tell me that it isn’t good to bottle everything up inside. Sure, it might be alright for them and their perfect families and their rich pay checks to tell everyone their ‘problems’ but I mean, what problems can they really have. Compared to some people, their problems are just small bumps in the road, speed bumps to make sure they aren’t forgetting to slow down and smell the roses. I feel like there is so much going on that I am unable to breathe. And I can’t breathe. I can’t sleep. I can’t do anything because I have too much inside and nowhere to let it all out to. And it is hard. I feel like I just need to cry and release it all, or shout at the world and just be.

But what does that solve? Crying doesn’t solve anything and the last thing I want is sympathy. I don’t think I could handle getting sympathy from anyone at the moment. And rage? What good is useless rage? All I need is a shoulder to lean on, a friend to believe in, someone to share the load. And all I get is more problems, more pressures, more things to bottle up inside.

So instead, I will write it all down and then at least it is out of my head and I don’t have to deal with it anymore. I hate how many people take me for granted. I hate a lot of things about the way my life has gone. It feels like I am forever becoming too happy, to content and something has to happen to ruin everything. I love coming home to visit, I love seeing my family and visiting friends and working on the farm, outside but I can’t keep visiting if this is what is going to happen. And I can’t tell my parents, I can’t tell my friends, I can’t tell my brothers and sisters. How would that be fair to them? I am the strong sibling, the strong daughter, the dependable friend. Everyone knows that they can come to me if there is a problem with anything. They know I will be there to listen to them and help them with whatever it is that needs help. But I just have one question. Who is there to help me? Who is there to listen to me when I am finding it all too much to handle. No-one. I am alone in my troubles, simply here to help everyone else. So what else is new?!

Every day I am strong. Every day I clean up other peoples messes. Every day I make sure that everyone else is happy. And every night, I am alone. And just this once, I would like there to be someone who I can lean on, who I can talk to freely, who will listen and help me, instead of it being the other way around.
But apparently I am not worthy. I lie here, alone in my sadness, waiting to face another day of pleasing and organising. What a perfect life.