Diary Entry 7 February 2021
It started when I had to choose the subjects I wanted to do for my Leaving Certificate. The subjects I actually wanted to do, of course weren’t a choice (for example, astronomy). It was that English and Maths were mandatory. Then you had to at least pick four more subjects. With every second, my mood sank, because there wasn’t a single subject I wanted to do. Mom claimed I simply have to choose some, because there isn’t any other way.
Great, I have to continue going to school, even though I hate it already and all it does is hurt me. I have to keep facing teachers and students that are just shit, every day. And now I can’t even do the subjects I want. Now I can’t even enjoy that.
I stormed upstairs and locked myself into my room. I wasn’t quite sure yet why the tears were flowing out of my eyes. I listened to music loudly, louder than usual, to fade out my thoughts. But it didn’t work so well. Because every song suited my situation and reminded me of my pain.
After a while I had to open the door for mom. She wasn’t feeling well with the fact that I’m distancing myself from all of them more and more, and I’m not letting them get close to me anymore. I stood as far away from her in my room as possible, and I had my back turned to her the entire time. She gave out to me without a pause. I didn’t answer her questions. After a while I had had enough of her screaming at me. Does she think it helps me if someone gives out to me and doesn’t show any understanding at all? “You are giving out to me the whole time! You aren’t giving me a chance to talk! You are always back-answering! You aren’t listening to me at all and aren’t helping me one bit!” I screamed. I mean, I have never screamed at her this loud before. It had to be, and every word was true. “Wow. Who are you?” she let out. As if I had hurt her with my words. “Do you see! You don’t even give me a chance to say anything!” “Ok, then I will shut my mouth now and you’ll talk.”
Finally! I had no idea where I should start and nothing I could say would be enough. Before I started, I sat down on my bed but turned my head away from her and looked down. “I don’t know where I should start. There is so much.” She said nothing. I paused a lot when I talked, my thoughts swirled in my head, and I told her about a few scenarios in my life and of my experiences that just hurt me and made me sad. “I don’t want to go to a psychologist, because they might as well change my viewpoint, but the facts won’t change. It might be more bearable for me to be alone, but the fact that I am alone, doesn’t change.” I had so much more to say but I couldn’t find the right words to formulate it. “I am and have nothing. I know I have ye, but ye aren’t the right one’s in this situation.”
“I don’t want you to say anything because I haven’t said enough for you to be able to understand me or say anything back to me.” I didn’t want her to say anything, because it would probably hurt me even more if I were to find out that she understood it wrongly or differently again. “You are right and if I were to tell you what you are, you wouldn’t believe me. So it’s best if I stay quiet. I’ll leave now but thank you for talking with me.” She went away. She just left. She left. She left me alone. She just left. She left my room. She left me behind. She left me sitting in my pain. She turned around and left. Just like that. She left.
The continuous growing pain was less and less bearable. How could she leave me alone now? How could she just leave? I opened myself up as much as I could for the first time in a long time and she… she… she just left. She left me alone again. Again, I was alone in my room. Again it was just me, my pain and no other person. What did she mean with ‘if I were to tell you what you are, you wouldn’t believe me’? I am nothing special. I am a nothing. I have no special abilities. I am nothing special. I am nothing special.
I squeezed my eyes closed, just for more moisture to stain my cheek. My whole body hurt and I could’ve broken down any moment. I turned the music up so high that it was the only thing I heard. As my music-box bounced the sounds off of the walls, I kneeled down, with my forehead against the carpeted floor. I held onto my stomach as if it could burst through screams of pain at any moment. No-one came to help me. No-one cared how I was doing. Even with all the pain I felt and screamed out, no-one was there for me. I turned up the music, but obviously not loud enough for someone to ask themselves what I was currently going through. No-one was with me. I was totally alone. Totally alone. Totally lonely.
All songs I turned on were in relation to loneliness. All lyrics suited me and therefore I could continue crying. I distracted myself through the voices of the singers, just for the words to remind me of my own pain again. No-one came to me. No-one cared how I was doing. And even the songs I listened to were written by singers that weren’t here. I had no-one. Only myself.
‘Bruises’, ‘Before You Go’ and ‘Someone You Loved’ by Lewis Capaldi. ‘Lonely’ by Justin Bieber. ‘Falling’ and ‘Sign of the times’ by Harry Styles. ‘So Long’ and ‘Dear Patience’ by Niall Horan, is what I listened to on repeat. And to that, I cried repeatedly. No, I cried continuously.
After a long, long time I could stand up again. My family was on a walk without me. They continued on normally even though my body was tensing up with sad music, alone in my room. I didn’t matter to them. I could’ve been dead and they would’ve gone on a trip. I didn’t know if I even wanted them to come in, but they gave me nothing. I didn’t know why I felt such an immense pain when I was alone in my room and they didn’t check up on me. Anything could’ve happened to me and they wouldn’t have noticed, because they didn’t even notice what was going on in my room when they were standing in front of the door. They didn’t have to say or do anything. They didn’t have to come inside. But they didn’t give me any attention.
I continuously listened to music. The same songs over and over again. The tears came in floods. I wanted to go for a shower before my family returned, to wash off the disgusting energy. Apart from that I wanted to let the pen marks: ‘Alone’, ‘Lonely’, ‘Not here’, ‘Got it all – Nobody to call – No-one’s listening’, from on my upper arm, get washed down the drain.
Afterwards I went into my room again – without having eaten anything, except cereal – and watched a little YouTube. After a while (I don’t know how long) I heard a scream coming from mom and dad’s bedroom. First I thought… I don’t know. I couldn’t finish thinking because then I heard loud crying from mom. I heard dad’s voice which tried to calm her down. For a short time I thought she was crying because of me, but that thought disappeared quickly. She most probably cried due to her heavy stomach pain. Because for weeks, and especially this day, she had very strong stomach pain.
My door wasn’t locked, so dad came in and insisted I eat something. How dumb. As if I would eat something when I felt like this. I answered saying I would come downstairs in a while. As if. He should know that wouldn’t happen unless someone physically pulled me or annoyed me long enough until I gave in.
Both my sisters came into my room at some point and asked what I wanted to eat. I wanted nothing.
They (my entire family) continued on as normal. As if I were happy to eat something now. As if I would be normal and ready again to have a happy family dinner now. I tried to be nice, but I couldn’t bring a smile to my face and my words came out emotionless. They both left once they noticed I really didn’t want to eat anything. Mom and dad didn’t even dare to come to me. I wouldn’t have let them in willingly anyway.
The next time dad came in, I had to go downstairs. I didn’t eat much though, and nothing healthy. Just a small slice of chocolate cake. Mom laid on the couch, with her back facing the kitchen and she meditated. Dad claimed he would only allow me to eat this little today. He claimed he knows what I’m going through is hard, but that I still have to eat something. Bla, bla, bla.
I knew mom could hear me. She never listens to things loudly with her headphones. But I was obviously so unimportant, she didn’t even turn around to somehow talk to me. Or look at me. I stayed standing at the kitchen door and looked at her. When she didn’t move, I slammed the door shut. But with that I didn’t get the satisfaction I needed. Wanted. I slammed my slippers against the wall as hard as I could before I stamped upstairs and locked the bedroom door. She didn’t come after me. No-one came after me. I didn’t matter to them. They didn’t notice how I was doing. Or they noticed it but didn’t give me any attention. I turned on the music again and I laid on my bed. I didn’t know what I should do. After I had listened through a few songs, small and light tears came. I didn’t even know if it was still possible to cry, due to all the tears that had given me bloodshot eyes already.
Mom texted me on WhatsApp saying the movie ‘Jungle Book’ was currently playing on TV, and asked if I wanted to come downstairs. Is she pretending like everything is ok again? I replied and told her it was too late now because dad was meditating and therefore, I couldn’t walk through the hall. (Maybe I’ll write another diary entry about why dad is meditating in the hall, but we are not allowed to talk about it at the moment.) I somehow found it upsetting that I needed so long to decide what I wanted to do, and that therefore it was too late to go downstairs. But I knew I would’ve ended up in my room alone again and probably including tears, so it didn’t matter anyway.
I heard when dad was finished and how Amy and Alana went downstairs. I thought they were going to watch a movie with mom now, so I thought it was a good opportunity to also go downstairs. This wasn’t the case though. Amy and Alana went upstairs after a few seconds because they preferred to play something. I sat down behind the couch on the armchair. I didn’t want to be here either – alone with mom. So when she asked: “What do you want to watch?” it was suitable to go upstairs again. “I don’t want to watch anything.” She just continued as if nothing had happened. She asked me in her usual way, what I wanted to watch. As if my world wasn’t a huge mess and a huge catastrophe. As if my world hadn’t totally fallen apart. The same procedure was undertaken with my slippers as before. But again nothing happened. Again, I was locked in my room alone and no-one cared.
I was so sad and frustrated, but this time the tears didn’t come. I believed I couldn’t cry anymore right now. Maybe again the next day.
I texted mom a part of the lyrics to Justin Bieber’s song ‘Lonely’:
“What if you had it all
But nobody to call
Maybe then you´d know me.
I´ve got everything
But no-one´s listening
I´m so fucking lonely”
Whereto she replied: “Why don’t you come downstairs and I’ll take you into my arms. And I won’t say anything.”
“But that doesn’t help”
“It doesn’t matter”
“Yes it does. It hurts like hell”
“Come”
“But it doesn’t change anything” and then I just went downstairs. She wouldn’t have stopped texting me anyway. I think.
As I went downstairs, I didn’t know why I decided to do so. She hugged me and my hands were on my lap. She suggested for me to rest my head on her so we are together a little. I felt a little uncomfortable with that, and it somehow wasn’t right. When I shook my head for the third time, she gave up and leaned back against the sofa-cushion. I drilled my eyes into the ground and hoped… I don’t know… That she gives me attention? Anything, apart from her pretending like everything is so normal again. Anything, apart from her continuing to watch TV while I was running to my room with eyes full of tears.
It wasn’t bearable anymore. The pain. It came again. Or it was never gone, but strengthened. I couldn’t handle it anymore. My thoughts. The pain. The music was turned up louder than ever before. Again I was lying rolled up on my bedroom floor. Again I was alone. The pain, sorrows, everything caught up to me again. I tried to blend it out with the lyrics. I turned it up more and more. I blared it so much I knew everyone in the house could hear it. I knew the people on the footpath in front of our house could hear it. I wanted to cover up my pain. But the higher I turned it, the louder my screams of pain became. The harder I cried. I knew mom, beneath me in the living room, could hear me. I knew she could definitely hear the music and me bawling. But she didn’t do anything. She didn’t come upstairs. She didn’t care. She didn’t move. She did nothing. Absolutely nothing. That was horrible. It hurt so, so much. It was really, really horrible. She just did nothing. She showed no signs of her caring in any way. She did nothing. It was so painful. So painful.
Dad was the one who came upstairs. I was supposed to turn down the music and unlock the door. I did both after I protested once, because I had no strength to fight. But he didn’t come in. I didn’t allow him to and he respected it. Progress. But he still told me what I should do, instead of asking me how I’m doing. I stood at my window and continued crying loudly due to pain, while he talked. He claimed that the angels are always there. I can only reach them when I am still. I didn’t believe they were there anymore. No-one was there. He said I am not alone. But I am!!! When I screamed at him, I didn’t recognize my own voice anymore, it was so hoarse, raw and dried up. But he kept a steady voice. He continued talking but I could only understand half of it through my bawling. He wanted me to promise him not to listen to music so loudly anymore. But I didn’t do that. Then he wanted me to promise not to break anything, not to throw anything around and not to write on walls but I didn’t answer him, because I was busy with something else. He continued talking and tried to help but I only listened to half of it. I concentrated more on the text I was sending mom. I just couldn’t bear her leaving me paining like this without doing anything.
“I am always wrong.
Why didn’t you come upstairs?
Why weren’t you there?
Does it not matter to you when I cry like this?
Should I die?
I wanted to hug you, I just didn’t know it!
Why weren’t you there?
Why?
I am so alone!
I don’t matter to you.
Should I die of pain?
Why weren’t you there?
Why didn’t you come upstairs?”
After a short while dad asked if he or mom could come inside. No. They weren’t allowed to. Now it was too late. There I heard mom scream in her room and stamp her foot. “Please? Can you please let mom in?” I didn’t answer but continued crying loudly. The pain was still as strong as a few minutes ago. It didn’t decrease. There I felt a hand on my shoulder. Mom turned me around and hugged me. She said nothing. For many minutes we stood there like that. I simply let my tears come and the noises out of my mouth from my chest also. In the past mom always said I shouldn’t cry so loud. She threatened to leave when I wouldn’t cry more silently. How could you expect that from a seven year old child? A child full of pain and sadness because their mother or their father had hurt them. The child who therefore felt even more pain, and with this, wasn’t able to cry any quieter. The mother, who left when the child couldn’t suppress its pain. As a seven year old child I cried even more then, because my mother wanted to leave me alone again. I had to stop, or else she would leave, but I couldn’t. Sometimes she really did leave me. She left me in my pain and she abandoned me, just because my screams of pain hurt her ears. My poor, small seven-year-old Me. So abandoned. So alone. So full of pain and sadness.
As she held me now, I didn’t care. I let the screams of pain come and she probably realized the mistake she made back then, because she didn’t say anything now. After many, many minutes it became less and less. Until only sobs appeared in between.
“I think you’re feeling this way because when you were younger – I think seven or eight – we always put you into your room when you were cheeky. We locked your room and no-one comforted you when you felt so much pain. The doctors said I am doing the right thing, but whenever I did this, I cried in my room. I knew it wasn’t right but dad always assured me the doctors said this was the right way. I am so sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”
I still know exactly what that was like for me. I always thought I didn’t matter to them and they didn’t love me. At some point, jealousy was also a part of it. I became jealous of Amy because she was never given out to and locked into her room the way I was. One day, I even packed a suitcase during the time I was locked in my room, and when they unlocked the door again, I walked to the front door and made my way to my grandparents. One might think the child is crazy for doing this, or for some it might be funny. But it wasn’t at all. I meant it to 100 percent. I was ready to leave my family behind and continue living with my grandparents. Sadly, I was stopped by my father. He wasn’t even the one who locked me into my room that time – it was usually mom – but she didn’t come to stop me. I felt abandoned and unimportant. Often, I felt a really strong energy coursing through my body when I was bawling so loudly and no-one opened the door for me, so I took something sharp which I found in my room and hammered it against the door. I hit it against the door and it left marks behind. It was a horrible and abnormally terrible time. I must’ve been a very strong child to be capable of loving my parents so much afterwards. Maybe I loved them like this, because they also did many great things and were wonderful parents. But it can’t be ignored that they made a huge mistake (locking me into my room and taking cherished belongings from me (example my ‘cuddly cat’) when I was ‘bold’).
Dad brought up tea and cappuccino. Mom and I sat on the ground. I looked down the whole time. It wasn’t good for my neck and back, of course, but I had to do it so I could think clearly. Well, as clearly as possible. We remained silent for a very long time until mom broke the silence and told me something even dad doesn’t know about her. She also went through a phase when she was younger, where she was totally alone. Where no-one understood her, and she became completely emotionless after a while. Nothing mattered to her. She thought she had no future and would simply die. She had given up and wasn’t as strong as me, she said. She did even worse things than just writing on the walls. Even though she had a best friend, parents and an older sister, she was still alone. No-one could do anything to make her feel better. It stunned me how she had talked to no-one about it, except me. She cried due to the memory of feeling alone. But she never thought it was important to tell dad, because “he had it worse anyway” and she never felt it was the right time to talk about it. Apart from that, it might have been too painful to remember it. She said dad had no-one, but I reminded her of how she also had no-one. Yes, dad’s past was different and harder (I don’t like saying that it was ‘harder’, because you can’t compare two different situations and two different people like this), but still, both were alone. I didn’t even want to know the ‘worse things’ she did. I didn’t say anything, just listened.
The only thing that got her out of the darkness was meditation. The only thing that helped her step out of the dark hole, was to meditate for 20 minutes for two weeks straight. Afterwards she felt much, much better, even though terrible memories of that time appeared in between. When she was older, she received a mantra which made those thoughts disappear fully. Her belief in God and the Angels was the only thing that saved her. The more mantras she did and the more she occupied herself with them, – the closer she got to God and the better she got through life. She told me her story because she wanted to show me that even she made it out,- even though she was also trapped for many years.
I am supposed to choose something to do every day from now on. To read a book – from Eckhart Tolle or Byron Katie. Or listen to a CD from people that can help me. Something. And mom will make an appointment with the psychologist. But I don’t want that, as they can’t help me the way I want them to.
I started crying again when I realized I am nothing special and what I’m going through is normal. Of course, not everyone is lonely in their life and not everyone experiences loneliness like I do, but there are still others that go through it. But I really want to be unique. I want to be different, because that’s how I feel and I hope for it so much. I have no gift and am a normal person. But I don’t want that. Mom assured me it isn’t normal what I’m going through. She claimed I am experiencing it to an extreme. But I always question it, because mom also experienced this and she did even worse things than me, so it has to mean it was harder for her. But she said no, she just wasn’t as strong as me. But I still think it’s unfair that I’m going through something this hard, and my wishes for the future might not even come true at all, because I am simply a normal person without a gift. Whereto mom told me; usually the people who go through something similar to me – which isn’t many people – also accomplish something bigger in their life and change something in the world.
“But most of them have a gift and I don’t.” “Yes, Leona, you have a gift.” How can she be so sure of that? Did someone tell her? Does she just think that? I don’t want to become hopeful when it isn’t actually true. It can’t be true, no-one ever said that to me. Matthias didn’t. Sasha didn’t. I can’t do anything. Does she mean I am just good at writing? But I can’t even do that well enough for it to be described as a ‘gift’. Or? Does she mean something bigger? Oh no, I can’t become hopeful.
Mom was telling me that many people have told me already. But that’s not true. Or? She claimed I still need to find out what my gift is. She claimed I will be happy with it. But how can she be so sure? Matthias. He said I will help people later on in life. He said I shouldn’t worry about my future because everything will unfold. Does that mean, when I find out what my gift is, I will know right away what my job will be? I will know what I will be doing in the future, and everything will be clear in front of my eyes? How does mom know that? She is so sure.
She said I have to work towards finding my gift. Which means I have to go through my life, day by day until my gift is clear to me. She claimed I won’t have a gift like Matthias or Sasha. I also won’t have a gift like seeing the future or reading thoughts. I will have a humanly gift. I will be able to communicate with people in my own way and I will change something in the world. I will be my own boss and will have employees. And if it’s my dream to become famous and therefore help people, I will accomplish this. I should work towards it.
I still don’t know why or how she is so sure of it. But I am happy she didn’t tell me what my gift is, because then I would hold onto it too much and get disappointed if it isn’t actually real. I asked her – because I was afraid of this – if I am ruining my future with Linus due to my hope, imagination, belief and me holding onto it. I asked the same thing about my gift, if I believe in it now and imagine it or hope for it and hold onto it, if it gets ruined and therefore doesn’t happen. Her answer was: “No, usually not. Because everything is planned already. The big pillars (defining moments) in your life are all planned.” She just suggested I shouldn’t feel like it MUST happen in my life this way. Thereto I asked if it is bad to feel as though it HAS to come that way though. “No, usually it isn’t.” There I was – I think – a little calmed down. I still know I can get disappointed by my hopes and dreams. Because it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s going to happen this way. Or Linus might not be the way I imagine him to be at all. That’s why I sometimes imagine the worst that could happen. For example; I don’t have an extraordinary gift, won’t become famous, don’t help anyone with my experiences or Linus becomes a soldier or he cheats on me or breaks up with me… But I don’t think about the disappointment as much as the hope, because Matthias said I will have one long-term partner who will truly love me. Apart from that he assured me I shouldn’t worry about the future because it will all unfold. At the end of our zoom-call he even said: “I am excited to see what you will be doing one day” Doesn’t that say enough? I hope. I hope so, – so much.
How nice would it be to change the world, to become famous, to help people, to have a loving partner, to be happy and healthy, to have kids and have a lovely life, filled with my wishes that came true, which I had during my difficult time as a teenager.
It turned out mom did cry due to me that evening, because she felt so helpless. To be a mom that can’t help her child is the worst thing for her. Mom also told me, she had psychic readings in the past where she found out about her kids. She doesn’t remember much of it, except that in one reading she was told her first daughter will have a hard life. It’s fascinating, but hopefully it’s only in relation to what I am going through now.
All this happened yesterday (Saturday) and today I wrote what you just read, the entire day. Actually, I wanted to paint my wall again because you can still read everything through the first layer, but this was and is more important. I wish you lots and lots of happiness. I love ye. Thank you so much for reading. Yours, Leona.
