Control and Shooting Emotional Blanks

Okay, darn YouTube this blog is mostly therapeutic for me so I am really trying to express and absorb the crazy stuff I have found out about my life and why I am the way I am. Ugh it's so hard to get some head space sometimes and then I open my phone to blog and boom I get lost in some lovely meditative painting videos and I am trying to remember the epiphany I just had.

Oh right, I was complaining about the overactive overprotective control to make up for the fact there was no control in my family growing up in a family of ex addicts and how all that fight for control literally stifled any personality that I had in my little INFJ brain and by my 20s had my boyfriend convincing me that I literally had NO PERSONALITY at all, like as if I was the color beige, devoid of color, nothing interesting to offer to even break up the mind numbing panicked silence because I was clearly born defective and have less than a full brain. Oh wow ouch... I woke up to a nightmare of my ex and my best friend pointing at my crouch discussing it and saying "she will never be able to come home."

Anyways that was really rude and I was just tripping and there is nothing wrong or extraordinary about my crotch or my personality or my face for that matter and eventually someone should of given me a hug and a coffee and told me that..but... in lieu of that, lets dig deeper into the fuckery my family caused.... So, drugs are

awesome, right, they make you feel great and feel free expressing that, at least if the drugs are good and the environment is decent, at least until the go bad, then you have to get sober, and then when you get sober the game is strictly to avoid feeling, anything out of the ordinary, not too much, not too happy, too sad, or too extra. So we are all hanging around holding our breath, trying to feel nothing, like an NA meeting where they told you if you laugh you're going to jail or something dramatic, anyways, a total nightmare for little, lets imagine I was cute, empathic, very sensitive mini me. The years of course when I was developing this *makes toot noise with mouth* of a personality, but my looks are pretty average, and my tits are flat, so this is really all I got to offer yay me.

I figure most of those feelings were all covered up by the constant crazy yelling and fighting which I find amusing and is very home for me, making it super easy for me to scare everyone off when I am just playing or being passionate because IDK, drugs. Plus since no one ever went back to those drugs of course , not, it was always super dark making my every emotional

outburst feel like a funeral level of sad, again something no one ever explained to me until my 30s. So I assumed there was obviously something wrong with my emotional intelligence. I just always seemed to love more, love harder, and hold on longer, and ultimately get hurt a lot more. Now I know this is classic signs of the emotional abuse of my family, the repeated huge production my mom would put on throwing out my dad over and over with the half night long good byes and souveniers just to end up losing the apartment, getting the lights shut off, and ending up right in the same position for 16 years, when he finally left us for a new family, a new girl, and my mom kindly discontinued his child support payments while his B*&#h argued with a 16 year old in the court room. ugh still disgusted but oh well. Oh fork,.. I don;t even remember what my point was.. oh yeah drugs, icky emotions and the over reactionary meanness of ex druggies giving children emotional symptoms of ex

druggies (NOT OUR FAULT). It just sucks, feeling like your personality is a blank page of trying to hold everything in, or find the next man who can or will except the wholeness of the you for however long or at least allows you to buy the lottery ticket over and over again that it could be real and it could last. I am sure I am not the only one who can't breathe until the sex is over....

I went way too far for way too long, trying to be perfect, trying to walk in the shoes of my elders without owing any dope money to anyone, to work for my literal freedom from control to stop all this life, this horrible sadness from affecting my future babies. All this went down the drain with one phone call. So now I am back to trying to figure out how to never feel and find a place to put it which is really horrible when you have felt true freedom. Thanks for the vent. If I am not the only one it would make me feel alot better to hear it, there is no where left to put "it".