On the Road...

I have written about being our true self, for better or worse. It is only today I realize how vital that statement is. From the moment I started living on my own, I progressively have had to deal with me.

I've had to hear my thoughts, face my jugements toward myself, toward the ugly side of my soul. For a while I couldn’t stay silent with no other sound than my inner voice pointing out everything that’s wrong with me.

I could not understand why I was always so sad, so disappointed in me. For the first time in my life I had failed school. It literally was the end of the world. At the time I thought it was because I had never failed once in my life. But then later on I realized it had nothing to do with failing my classes. It was about me thinking I was failing my mum, my dad and my whole family. It was me thinking I was not enough, I was not worthy, I was a waste of love. A waste of time, energy and care.

Somehow I had convinced myself that as long as I did well at school, I would be okay. Because then I somehow deserved my loved ones. Only then did I have an excuse for being taken care of.

I couldn’t tell you why I felt this way. Something, an event, a situation, a conversation might have been the source. I don’t know.

It’s only when I started dealing with my feelings and not running away from them with people, friends, parties, that I truly started the process of healing. Of not seeing my mum’s love as conditional. God forbid, the woman has infinitely showed me just how insanely she loves me. In my head though, it never made sense that I deserved that kind of love if I was not the daughter she expected, or maybe the daughter I thought she deserved.

My first romantic relationship truly helped me grow. I always thought my first relationship should be my last. I already felt weird to have been single for so long. All my friends had had multiple relationships. I was 20, and only had intentionally kissed a guy once. Boy was it awful. I thought I had to be in a relationship to be okay. To be socially correct and in line with the universe. So when that first relationship happened, I thought if I was irreproachable, it would have to work. It had to, that’s how it worked in movies and what society implied. I mean, haven’t you notice that when a girl gets cheated on, someone, at some point will ask “what is wrong with her ?” Or even have the audacity to ask to her face “what did you do wrong” ?

I thought I had done it all right, I really believed it was going to be until death do us part. I believed it as a strongly as I believe wine is all you’re allowed to drink in heaven. So when my relationship ended because I had been cheated on and dumped, something inside me yelled you deserve it, you brought this to yourself. Crazy right ?

I didn’t cry. I couldn’t. The pain was too deep, too far away from my tears and too close to my heart. I experienced the same agony when Michael Jackson died, I couldn’t cry.

Only when I started being compassionate to myself, only when I showed empathy to my feelings, did I cry. I cried once, for two minutes and it was enough. The pain had moved closer to my eyes and further from my heart. Because I was being kind to myself.

I started questioning everything I ever did during the relationship. I was debating with what I did right and did wrong. Yet none of my actions could have possibly changed the course of events. I progressively started quieting that voice that was screaming you deserve it. Slowly it went from it’s okay to you deserve better. Not in the way of saying he was a low life douche who deserved trash. But more like you deserve to be happy, you did what you could, it was amazing at times, now it hurts, but it will be okay. You will love and be loved again. And it will hurt again, but you will be happy.

With that came a series of questioning myself about who I had been in the relationship. Had I truly be me ? Or was I who I thought he would love ? Wasn’t I what society qualifies as a “good girlfriend” ? Truth is I wasn’t truly me. I couldn’t have been, I didn’t know myself enough. Multiple times I wouldn’t speak my mind because it contradicted his views. Multiple times I would say something because it would probably be the right thing to say now. The process of questioning my happy relationship slowly made me grateful things had gone sideways. I pictured myself 10 years later with him and all I could see was resentment. Toward him and toward myself.

I was never going to be happy in any kind of relationship If I wasn’t ready to speak my soul. Meaning, if I was going to wear a mask the whole time, eventually I would be exhausted, I would forget myself and I would become faceless.

I decided to meet myself. I decided to spend some time with me. Alone, no noise, no distractions. Just me. Who was I ? What did I like ? Why did I like or dislike things ? It was long and tedious. Shutting down these voices yelling I was a crappy human being who did not deserve her family’s love was tough. I’m not completely there yet, but I’m in the process of completely shutting them down. I understood that what had happened with that boy was not in my control, and it is okay.

To be continued.

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