Being the Buffer Between People

I have always taken it upon myself to be a mediator when it came to anything dealing with my family. I tried to show the olive branch time and time again in order to have some semblance of normalcy. Of course, this is hard to do when you have to grow up way too fast and have to take care of your sister, be a high school student, and make sure you have some time to yourself. That is probably why I am such a recluse and I hate being around people most days. I can carry on full conversations with people, be sociable, and have a personality, but honestly, those are just surface solutions to my problem.

If you have not inferred from past posts (read my poem here and my veteran story here), I suffer from depression, anxiety, PTSD, and many more things. These are not only connected to my time in the military though, I know I have been carrying those crosses for several years. As I am writing this I am crying mostly out of frustration because I let myself be manipulated into another situation where I had to play mediator to my mom and sister. I love both of them I really do, but they are emotional monsters and my weakness because I want to help them both.

I try over and over again to bear the blows (physically and emotionally) from both of sides, but I cannot bear it any longer. No; this is not some sort of morbid suicidal blog post to gain attention; this is a proclamation I need to say out loud:

I AM NOT YOUR FUCKING PUPPET ANY LONGER.

I don’t care what you do with your life, but you will not block my progress any longer. I need to make sure I am emotional, financially, and spiritually secure in my life before I take on these kinds of relationships again. I know most of you will say, “Michele that is your family. You should be there for them.” To that I say: I have in every way. When I have had to clean my mom up from a night of partying or have had to have my sister move in with me because she and my mom don’t get along, plus the many other things that I did as a teenager for both of them. Then there is really nothing else to give.

Sorry for ranting, but it was better here than crying and drinking myself to sleep.

Michele

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Blood Orange Cider and Gin Cocktail