Unhealthy Thing

I think I’ve always been inclined to desire unhealthy things. I don’t know why. I certainly didn’t have a difficult childhood, nor would I consider myself a victim of abuse or neglect. I think technically I come from a broken home, but that’s only because of a minorly messy divorce and my own need to feel like an outcast. Other than the occasional wrist grab and the one time my mother spanked me as an infant, I’ve never been in any situation that could be evaluated as threatening. I would describe my life as mild. Nothing special, nothing bad, just mild. Yet, I still feel the hopeless pull to interact, seek, and fall in love with the most unhealthy of situations.

When I say unhealthy, I don’t mean full of carbs and fat. I wouldn’t necessarily say that I have zero desire for things filled with carbs and fat, but in this specific reference, I mean something different. Not unhealthy for me physically, and not unhealthy for me emotionally, just unhealthy. It’s the sort of thing where the people around me may not look at it and think “oh no, this is going to go bad,” or, “wow, that’s unhealthy,” but my subconscious is saying all those things and more. Unhealthy in the sense that instead of feeling sad or hurt, I feel numb. Numb to thinking and feeling. Numb to pain. Just numb. Maybe that doesn’t seem as awful as I was setting it up to be, but trust me, being numb is pretty awful.

So, if it’s so awful, why do I pursue these things? Well that’s the golden answer, right? I don’t have a fucking clue. I don’t know why when he told me I was ruining his life, I just sat there and took it knowing damn well I had done nothing wrong. I don’t know why I didn’t put my foot down when he asked me to never talk to them again because it made him insecure. Do I make people insecure? That’s a weird concept. I don’t know why when I asked for freedom and he pulled the chain even tighter around my neck I didn’t cry, or scream, or feel. I just went numb.

That’s the numb I’m talking about. That’s it. It isn’t even a feeling at all. It’s the absence of all feeling.

But he didn’t make me go numb. No one made me go numb.

My mother always told me that no one can make you feel or do anything. No one made me go numb. Nobody even played a role in my slow descent into this unhealthy void.

Oh, look. There’s that word again. Unhealthy. Am I unhealthy?

So when I said I’m “inclined to desire unhealthy things,” I was wrong. I’m not inclined to desire unhealthy things, I am the unhealthy thing.

Pause for the generic “don’t say that about yourself”s and “no, don’t think that way”s. That shit pisses me off even more than the numbness. I am the unhealthy thing, and anyone that says otherwise is just trying to come off as the compassionate, down-to-Earth fuck who knows damn well they are physically unable to care less.

I am the unhealthy thing because I recognized the signs, and I actively chose to ignore them. I noticed when it began, and I felt it before all feeling was drained. I haven’t cried in a year. Did it take the tears too? I am the unhealthy thing because even when I knew something just wasn’t right and all the red flags started waving over my pathetic (and comically small head), I just closed my eyes and imagined I was dead for just a moment. Just a moment. Just a moment where it’s actually acceptable to be numb. Fuck. Am I dead?

No, I’m not dead. Just numb.

I think I imagined a picturesque existence in which I wasn’t even existing. Not suicide, not literal death, and not some perfect 14-year-old-me-emo-fantasy. I mean a vision of blissful lack of being. I could see it all unfolding from some omniscient point of view with no hands, heart or wings. An out of body experience in which I wasted my only skill of ignorance and denial to just watch myself flounder. A fish not only out of water, but hit numerous times by a five-year-old with an odd fascination for violence and a bat. Somehow I am the fish, the borderline sociopathic child, and the bat.

My omniscient self probably laughed the whole fucking time.

I don’t think this will end on a positive note. I’m not a very positive person, and this is kind of a dark subject. I don’t see a light at the end of this very wordy tunnel. I am still numb, and I am still without reason. I think the only potentially positive aspect of this rambly mess is that at least I’m aware of my own confusion.

I’m not inclined to seek the unhealthy things. I think maybe I desire the things that make me feel OK about not being healthy. It’s not as much about the person, or object, or vice, but rather the safety net that accompanies it. I am the unhealthy thing just waiting to throw some poor, unsuspecting fool under the bus. The unhealthy thing who can’t understand why she’s gone numb. The unhealthy thing who is incapable of recognizing fault but exceptional at placing blame.

I am the numb, unhealthy thing, and if you are the person who is truly inclined to interact, seek, and fall in love with the most unhealthy of situations…

I am so sorry.