Living for others

A couple of thoughts for me to consider. 1) "If you make a choice that doesn't please your mate, friends or WHOEVER, the world will not fall apart." Also 2) "Failure is just a way for our lives to show us we're moving in the wrong direction, that we should try something different." I have been living for others for as long as I can remember with a single exception that took place during a period which was marred with bad decisions, so I continued to work a system that I understood. This system is failing me, and I am failing it right back. My life, my beliefs, my understanding and perceptions all dictate to me that doing for others is noble, honorable, acceptable, and even favorable. I thought if I gave enough or did enough, I would be loved. I would be worth loving. I could earn it. I don't even so much want to be loved, just not treated like an enemy. I just don't understand what I could have ever done to anyone that they'd feel so negatively toward me. It goes against everything I was ever taught about life. If you are a good person who does good things, you should be okay, right? People should see that. I know that I have to live for myself. I know that. I don't know how to do that the right way. When I did try that I fucked it all up royally, and I feel like I haven't gained alot of ground since. Not that I had much to begin with. I know that no matter what, regardless of what I do, my actions will be frowned upon. When Mike makes a decision, I get blamed. He doesn't want to open the store now, tells his dad about it who's response was "Is it because of her?" I could try pretending that it doesn't bother me, but it does. It's so painful. Will I ever be loved or accepted by anyone? Ever? If I stay here and try to see this project through, I'll be blamed if it fails, if it succeeds, Mike will be praised for having done it all in spite of me. If I go anywhere, I'll be the monster that ruined Mike's life and took his kids away, even if I only live across the fucking street. I'm already in the wrong for bailing on the relationship and upsetting darling Michael. What about me? Does anyone give a shit even for a moment that I am a person here, too. Does none of the effort that I've put in count for anything? I do want to die. I do. It's got to be the only relief from this feeling. Nothing I've ever done has mattered to anyone, and the same is true here and now. If I cry, I'm crazy. If I remain silent, I'm distant...being a bitch. It does not matter. It simply does not matter how many Christmas presents I put together for people, how many birthdays I remember, how nice I try to be. It does not matter that I've overcome all that I have to press on and survive another day, that I'm ostracized and looked upon as a villain in my own home. No one cares and everyone believes that I deserve it. My biggest reason for not gutting myself like a fucking fish is the fear that I'll survive it somehow or another, and then they'll REALLY talk. I'll be seriously ill then, right? Mike will be praised for having worked hard and taken care of the kids and put his store together all on his own even with that crazy bitch dragging him down every step of the way and throwing a wrench in the program right when things were about to come together for him. I always gave these people more credit than anyone I'd ever known. I thought of them as the kindest, most respectful people I'd known. People with big hearts and good intentions, that do great things for others expecting no returns. The really fucked up thing is, even though I'm being treated like some kind of disease, they've still been nicer to me than anyone else. I have to have done something to deserve this, this kind of shit doesn't just continue for a full stretch of twenty three years because I was born on the wrong day. I hurt so very badly and there is no escape.