I’m holding my own. It feels like it’s important to say that.
It has been a very, very rough week. The sort of week that only comes once in a while, but I am holding my own. It was a hard choice to hit publish on Sunday. But my family, both sides of it, have made a specialty in keeping secrets.
Years ago, when I wound up under the care of a psychologist for a bit, one of the things that she made me do was talk openly about what happened to me as a child, she made me blow open the doors and talk about it. Stop hiding it. It seems to be a universal truth that when we keep secrets, those secrets can keep haunting us. They keep making us pay for the sins of others. Secrets have a way of re-victimizing us.
Finally, over the last few days, I have gathered up the threads of who I am. Oh, the garment has a hole in it. I thought it was true that my father loved me even if my mother didn’t, and the actual truth is that they were two deeply ill people. I don’t know that they are capable of loving in any real way. It helped when Aunt Debby, who has known me all of my life told me this.
But I thought about who I am. Not where I came from or who I was, but who I am now. I can’t make my parents love me. I can’t make them be proud of me. I can live my life in a way that I am proud of me, that I love me, and that out of those choices, others are proud of me, others love me.
I will always wish that things had been different. I will always wish that things had been other than they are. I will always wish that my parents could without reserve, without qualification say that they loved me, that they were proud of who I was.
But, I know who I am. And I can look at it objectively and say that every reasonable person would look at me and be proud of how I turned out.
Heck. I’m proud of how you have turned out, and I’m not your mama.
Seriously, Mrs. S, you are a good person who has risen above the crap hand you were dealt. Do something to celebrate yourself.
Bravo! Good for you. You are already trying to be the best person you can make yourself. No one has the right to ask more of you than that. I am proud of you and so is everyone who knows the real you.
Aunt Deb? Want to be my auntie too?
I meant to comment on your last post when I was calm. You are an amazing person. You are full of goodness and love. I may be older but in difficult situations I try and think how you would handle it with grace. It was never your responsibly to be the adult in the relationship with your parents. They were the adults, who should have known to love a child unconditionally.
I am proud to call you a friend
And I can look at it objectively and say that every reasonable person would look at me and be proud of how I turned out.
I most certainly am.
I’m glad that you are holding your own. I hope that you felt supported after speaking your truth and that the road is a little easier for you in the coming days.
As well you should be. : )