It’s the little things that I missed out on growing up that bite at me and hurt me the most.
Knowing, for certain, that there was someone there who absolutely, without a doubt, was on my side.Not necessarily agreeing with everything that I say or do but caring and looking out for me.
Someone who let me know that I was unconditionally loved. There were people in my life who did, but I was kept away from them. Made to believe that love was based on what I did and how I compared. And to know that no matter what I would always be second best, and never good enough.
Knowing that I would be disbelieved and was unworthy until I could prove otherwise.
I’m a mess at the moment because of it…and yet I am still running away from these memories and hurts. The ones that are in the corner of my mind’s eye.
I am feeling the effects of them at the moment, crying the tears that I suppressed so many years ago…but I cannot recall any detail…and with most of them there is just a shadow of a glimpse of them, one that I sometimes catch out of the corner of my mind’s eye.
It’s terrifying and exhausting…but cathartic too…crying for “no reason”. Tears washing my soul.
But sometimes still I catch myself denying the reality of what I grew up with. And I know that it is a coping mechanism, one that I developed so many years ago, and simultaneously conditioned into me that with absolute certainty I would tell you I was not abused or hurting.
I am letting myself feel the hurt now and taking it from there.