I have a very bad relationship with god.
In elementry school, I went to a catholic private school. I didn't think much about religion then. During friday mass, I wouldn't pay attention since my head was thinking about lunch. I was most excited about eating the bread of Christ that they'd hand out during mass—which is very offensive, I think. I was nine, I didn't really understand. In that school, I remember memorizing many prayers and getting and praying the rosary. Other than that, I don't remember much from that time except for a few events that happened—but those events were mostly embarassing kid stories.
I still have the things from my first communion. I feel like I haven't been a 'true' catholic even during the time I was in that school. I left the school after 5th grade to go to a public middle school (which became one of the worst three years of my life—but that's going to be a different entry, I'm sure).
In sixth grade, my older sister started to change. I also started to change. I became a moody, depressed, and hormonal eleven year old. My oldest sister was going through a bad time in her life from what I think, so she began to take her anger out on me. She'd yell and argue at me over me not doing well on my homework, not taking a shower right away, not keeping my room clean, etc. I'd yell back. Sometimes, it would get physical and we would (literally) grab each others hair. It lasted for about a year and a half before she left home. Those years have changed me, and I'm not sure how well I'll ever be able to explain how I felt then.
I figured out how a panic attack felt like because she yelled and hit me over not taking a shower before bed. I understand why she would get angry, but I don't really think yelling was necessary to get eleven-year-old-me to understand that it's healthy to take a shower everyday. I tried my hardest not to let my crying be too noisy when she left my room. I was too shaky to close my door. It was similar to the time where I couldn't move because I was so scared that there was someone in my room (see entry 07).
During that time, I prayed to God, Jesus, saints, to help the situation. I'd beg everyday for them to help me change to become better, for my sister to stop hurting me, for me to stop yelling back, stop being annoying, all sorts of things. Yet, everyday, I'd lose more and more trust in God.
After that time, I found myself in several similar situations in the later years. I found myself looking for attention from older people (I don't think this has anything related to my sister at all). There's been situations where I let myself be groomed because I was desperate for love and attention. I stayed in horrible relationships because I needed to know that I had use—even if that use was to be used for sex. I took pictures of myself in suggestive poses and outfits for the man that I had met online. He told me his fantasies about me—while knowing I was fourteen. I knew by then that God has truly abandoned me. I don't know if it's because I was bad. I don't believe that God exists anymore. If he knew that I was in pain and that I desperately wanted to get out before I got worse, I believe he would have led me into a better place. Yet, I can't help but believe that I deserved the pain. I was so reckless and I neglected my own health so much—so, what does that make me?
I realize that I am not in much of a better place than I thought I was in. I am just less moody than I was in middle school. My emotions are more stable, even if they really are unstable. I'm extremely self-aware, even if I really don't want to be.
I think I just like knowing that there is something wrong with me. I spend so much time thinking and debating with myself if I'm deserving of the pain I've given to myself or what others have given me. I forget that what I feel isn't normal to others, and I feel so shamefully good realizing that. I feel so used to not being understood—while refusing to believe that I can be understood—so that now, any type of acknoledgement of my problems gives me so much shameful joy.
That's all, I will write some other time. I hope you understand, reader.
I have a fieldtrip tomorrow. I hope it goes well.