Time to Heal

“The key to happiness is good health and a bad memory.” -Ingrid Bergman 

I have lost six pounds in the past two weeks.  I am proud of myself for maintaining good eating habits and daily exercise, and I need this success more than ever before.  Everything else in my life seems to be crumbling to the ground. So, by God, I need to at least be able to say I got skinny from it all, right?  

The truth is, I am heartbroken.  I am confused.  I don’t know what is happening around me, or how to stop it.  I’m baffled and bewildered and feeling so very, very alone.  It’s depression.  It’s other things.  It’s a losing battle all the way around.  And yet, I am still fighting.  

I am having a hard time accepting what has recently been brought to light.  After several months of being disowned by my father’s family, I finally found out why. They all believe I did something that, in reality, I did not do.  But they believe I did it, and it’s something awful, and apparently some other people outside of the family believe it as well.  I can’t even begin to try to prove that it isn’t true, not yet anyway, because then they would know who told me. Besides, the only “proof” I have is my word, and I doubt anyone would listen at this point. It’s complicated, and I can’t be any more specific about the situation on here. This whole situation has stressed me to no end.  I know I shouldn’t care what people think of me.  I know the truth and that should be enough.  But my dad was the world to me, and now his family hates me.  It just stirs up the grief of losing him even more.  And it makes me wonder, have I lived my life in such a way that even family would believe I am capable of doing that?  Do I come across as that heartless and greedy? And why didn’t anyone come to me about this and talk to me?  Chew me out about it if that’s what you think I’ve done.  But to just walk out of my life and lock the door behind you?  Where is the sense in that??  

I wish I could forget this place.  I wish I could move so far away, where I could start over.  Where no one knew me, so I could begin again.  But, of course, I can’t do that.  Even if money was not an issue, I will not move away from my daughters.  So, I am stuck here.  Indefinitely.  And my paranoia is running rampant.  Every person who seems to be avoiding me, I wonder if it’s because “the rumor” has reached them.  It’s embarrassing.  It’s appalling.  For anyone, it would be troubling.  For someone with social phobia, it’s earth-shattering.  Like I didn’t worry enough already how I come across to people.  Ugh!  

Fiance says I should just forget it.  It doesn’t matter what people believe.  If they are shallow enough to shut me out because of it then it’s proof that they must not have cared that much for me to start with.  And I know that, but it’s the truth of that statement that hurts so much.  To know I didn’t matter.  Maybe it’s because I was adopted; maybe they never viewed me as “true” family.  But that’s not the way I felt about Daddy.  He was my father, regardless of blood.  He loved me.  He’s the only parent I never doubted when it came to love and security.  I would never do anything to disrespect his memory. So, why does everyone else seem to believe otherwise? I have such good memories from my childhood of time spent with these relatives, and now all of those people are against me.  I am hurt and I am angry, and I wish I knew how to let this go and not care.  

I guess it’s times like this when I really miss having a therapist the most.  I need someone to just listen without telling me what I already know.  I know I should just drop it.  I know I should move on and not give it a second thought.  But I need to grieve.  I need to be able to cry without being told how senseless it is to be this upset. I need time to heal from this in my own way.  I need patience from others during the process.  

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