aaaaaaaa

i guess i need to express myself or something idk

[down-the-upstairs]

My first post here is a deeply personal and rather intense post about my relationship with my estranged parent.

I thought about going back and deleting it a few times since. Shame is my number one shackle and I do get it randomly.

I realized I was ashamed of talking about what happened there.

After further dissection of this feeling, I understood that logically, I have nothing to be ashamed of. All of the things that happened were things that happened *to me*, while I was still a child. But the feeling sat in my stomach like a knot still. Then I realized that I felt that those things happened to me because I am me.

I felt that, feeling worthless all this time, I associated that feeling with the deepest parts of me. The parts that go beyond being someone's child, sister, friend, etc.

But sadly, any child who was born into this family would experience the same thing. The issue was not my personality as a 2 year old. The issue was with the adult in the room.

Truly getting over things require deep, brutal honesty. I won't medidate on this for hours. I won't read books about it. I won't research or talk to other people. I'm just gonna look within, and hard. And yes, you can do that. Any single thing that says the relationship with the self must be complicated, long and draining is lying to you so you'll get into their scheme, trying for a lifetime in elaborate settings, special destinations,with bells and whistles. Seriously, whoever was that first guy or gal who made us believe something so fundamental and accessible was out of reach was a marketing genius.

The only thing that stands in the way of you and you is ego.

So I am looking hard, within, and making observations about it,talking about those observations, and living with them.

I am looking at the mistakes of people before me and I am making choices that I think will yield positive results.

I am choosing, actively. To be safer within my mind, to be more connected with myself, and to erase the dirtiest player the game has ever seen: shame.

I am choosing to let go of the past that is out of control and reach, and I am choosing to take responsibility in every area I possibly can.

[catchymemes]

[down-the-upstairs]

I'm good.

I just told my absent father to fuck off from my life completely. After him reaching out a while ago.

I thought I was okay with it. I assumed I would be happy.

But I spent the whole week with a trembling heart, remembering every single time I was left to my means as a child. I knew, always, that I would never be a part of his world. My dad chose not to be around me. I lived with that truth like a ball and chain that I had to drag everywhere.

He wasn't there when I got married. He wasn't there on my surgery day. He wasn't there when I was happy, angry, sad. While all the daughters around me were endlessly pampered, I existed with the knowledge that I wasn't worth fighting for.

And now, no apology. No mention of his comfortable inexistence. No mention of trying to manipulate me as a teen. No mention of his physical or emotional violence.

He asks me how the weather is. Tells me about the weather. I am on autopilot. I just answer. At some point, I find myself talking about a random plant fact. It's like I'm watching myself speak.

He speaks about his life a bit, without going into detail. That's what he does. He tends to use every bit of information to hurt someone, so he tends to think everybody does that. Always vague. Always asking questions to fill up the space. Purposefully beating around the bush.

He then tells me he would like to call sometimes and hangs up.

Why? I don't ask.

I don't ask for 3 days. For 3 days, I wake up, experience a tornado of all kinds of emotions. I'm torn, I'm angry at his nonchalance. I'm angry at his nerve. I can't understand his indirect ways, I can't stop remembering the past. I don't even remember what I ate, I see some photos in my phone that obviously I took during these days, but don't remember taking.

I dissociate hard. Floating.

When my husband steps in, seeing the stress I'm in, I sort of snap. I have a family. One that does not include him.

One that is full with people with my best interest in their mind. People who spent time with me. People who are in my most precious memories. This family is not full of fear, lack, manipulation, self doubt, violence. This is the one I made for myself. I would do anything for their well being, and I know I would meet the same attitude. This is real love. I really did find it.

Nothing else matters.

What he does every 5-10 years out of spite, regret or boredom has affected me for the last time. He reaches out then burns the bridges. I simply realized that the energy I put into being afraid of him, being anxious of him - is not necessary at all.

So today, I gathered my big girl words and told him to shove his lackey attitude up his ass and never call me again. That I am good just the way I am. Don't need to give a past abuser another chance only to be let down again.

In nicer words, though, I'm a lady. But that was the gist.

And I'm fucking PROUD of myself for it

All my life I listened to that overly critical voice in my head and repeated after it that I was worthless. I've earned this, so I'm saying it.

I'm proud of the backbone I showed in the face of an abuser. I'm proud of handling that without burning and crashing. I'm sooooooo proud of myself for being able to see what actually matters to me, in MY life.

That's all

[catchymemes]