I was talking to a friend of mine over the weekend about how past shit gets all wrapped up in current relationships. She’s dealing with her own shit so in an attempt to help, I decided to share with her some of my shit . Whether it did the job or not, I’m not sure.
Throughout my entire childhood my sister and I were basically told and shown that we weren’t important or worth the effort. My mother frequently sent us to school in dirty clothes ( though thankfully I was never the smelly kid in school) or she’d forget to pack our lunches, or both our parents would forget to pick us up from school altogether.
During her manic periods I couldn’t walk by her without her screaming about what a “horrible fucking bitch” I was. And in my father’s rages he’d often back me into a wall and punch leaving a hole a few inches away from my face telling me that I was next if I didn’t blah blah blah…Later on after my mother left, my father would continue to fuck up my sister and I but I don’t think I’ll get into all those details.
When my parents decided to start the divorce process I was about eleven. My mother made it clear that not only was I to blame for the divorce- she told me on multiple occasions that had I not been born she would have never married my father-she also blamed me for her mental illness stating that her bipolar disorder was directly linked to the hormonal changes she went through during her pregnancy. I know now that all of these accusations are completely ludicrous, but when you’re a kid you believe everything your parent’s tell you and these things stuck with me for a very long time.
I honestly can’t remember at any point growing up thinking that I was special or wonderful or full of infinite possibilities. I never believed I could be anything I wanted because all I wanted was to feel that I was loved and I never did. I don’t think there was ever a period where I liked myself. I think this explains why as I got older I had minimal friendships, crappy boyfriends and extreme bouts of depression.
Yet despite all that nonsense, here I am. A completely functional adult ( even though I deal with frequent anxiety and depression) with a good man, good friends and an all around good life. A great and beautiful life. A life that makes me smile and makes my heart swell on the weekends, or whenever I’m home really. And I think it’s kinda funny that when I share my story with some people , the’ll say things like ” Where did you come from?” or “How did you turn out so good?” or my favorite “How are you not so fucked up?” I usually just laugh it off but lately I’m reminded that we don’t have to be defined by what happened to us yesterday. We don’t have to stay in a place of greif and internal suffering. We can choose to say that we are more than the sum of our experiences. We can choose to like ourselves and be more than ok.