Home and Crying

So, I'm in Tallahassee. Just for a week, then I'll be back in Orlando.

I'll admit that being home is really hard for me. Especially when I am treated like the family therapist and my Mom or a sibling comes to me and just complains to me. It would be okay if we talked about other things, too, but all I hear are negative comments about one person or circumstance. I try to change the focus of the conversation, so we can feel better and not dwell on things of the past that can no longer be changed. I always end up just getting hurt, feeling like people can feel like they can just talk to me as if I were a wall. As if I didn't want to say anything, as if I didn't want to hear any good news. My feelings become ignored.

Coming to Tallahassee this weekend was a bigger sacrifice for me than some might think. I like Orlando, and I'm not really ready to face the reality of having to move back to Tally in July. I don't feel welcome here, but I know my family needs me here.

Another small problem is that I don't really feel at home in Orlando anymore. I'm so bad at making and keeping new friends. I'm satisfied with a small group and before I know it, they've either moved away or moved on to (apparently) better friends. People overwhelm me. New people even more so. A lot of new people and I fidget so much and just end up making a fool of myself.

Someone once told me that she's never seen me cry. That's because she's never seen me alone. I pretend to be strong when surrounded by people, but when I'm with only one person, tentatively talking about the hurts and struggles that I'm facing; that's when I cry. And let me tell you, when I cry, I bawl. Right now? As I'm writing this post? Bawling. Like a little child. It's pathetic. I've lived my whole life dealing with the same situations, the same problems and I still get hurt. Shouldn't I be used to it by now?