I used to think that I was above wanting to prove something to my parents. I thought that I could care less about their approval. Maybe for somethings I don’t, but in my head, it was absolutely nothing. I wonder what it is that programs us, what is that pushes us to want to make our parents happy; albeit the bad things they may have done to us.
I ask myself ask that question all the time. And a part of me has always believed that my parents could be better people. Yet and still I hold on to the people they used to be. It makes no sense. It’s like on one side, I wanted better, but when they became somewhat better, I didn’t accept it. Everyday I wake up and expect them to still be the people that they used to be. It’s pathetic. Why pray for better and then not accept it or be open to it?
On the other side, you fight to be different. You fight to be a better person than they are/were. You fight to see all of their errors so that you don’t make the same ones. But what does that really do? For me it just hardens my heart towards them. I am isolated in my home and I’m not the only one. Each of us seem to have our own separate lives that we keep the other people in this house out of. I learned something about my brother that made me angry and sad, but where was I? He’s grown up now, and I didn’t help at all. I was too bitter that he was/is their favorite child. I was hateful towards him, spiteful even, for all of the beatings he never got that I did. For the lies he told that induced more beatings. For the love he seemed to get that I never got. For him KNOWING he was the favorite, and reminding me at the most inopportune moments that pushed me away from him. By the time he realized what he was doing, we already had a huge space between us. By the time I realized that mattered, I was away at college, wondering if he felt like I abandoned him.By then, it’s too late. We’re better now, but we let so much space get between us that we miss a lot.
I love my siblings, but I’ve noticed that my grasp of family, of sacrificing for my family is different. My other siblings, from my biological father, have a strong sense of family. Regardless of feeling sick or tired, they’ll still make time to go spend time with each other during gatherings. They’re there for each other, and they’re super supportive. They have this idea that no matter what, family comes first. It’s not like that for me, but I’m changing that. I see better, and I’m determined to open myself up to being more loving in my family. At some point, I have to stop allowing things from my past to hinder my growth. I have a lot to say, a lot I want to get off my chest. I know that’s what’s stopped me from moving on. I’ve always been that way. If I can’t say what I need I harbor whatever is bothering me so close that it becomes a part of who I am. I want to learn to let things go.
Even while I write this I’m thinking about so many things…all the times someone told me to suck it up and stop crying, “what happens at home stays at home”, “don’t tell anyone”, and all the other bs. Sometimes I don’t feel like I’ve really made any freaking process. That the last couple years have just been an act. That I’m a phony, and all the things that I thought I was better at, were just things I were play doing. Maybe I’m just being hard on myself. Or just moving through all this nonsense…who knows