(no subject)
It appears that the past few years have been warning signs, showing me all the problematic areas of my life.
This is the year that I acknowledge and begin healing from them.
I carry so much pain with me. Emotional scars, unseen physical torments, and absolute terror. Fear of life, those around me, and my own identity.
My entire life I have always worked to be a bridge-builder. To forge lasting connections between myself, everyone around me, and to foster external connections as well. I have advised, empowered, affirmed, supported, guided and saved so many people. People know to look to me when they need help, because they know that I will always care, and always do everything I can to help. And yes, I've been having issues where I do not take into account my own boundaries and capabilities in that process. For reasons of guilt.
Guilt that who I am, and what I need, will only perpetuate the pain. "If I have the ability to help, why shouldn't I?" That's been my thought process for many years. I'm breaking that cycle the most powerful way I can.
My very identity may be enough to break the connection I have with my mother. That's my fear. That's my terror. That's my burden. I have worked tirelessly my entire life to help her in whatever form I could. She worked so hard for us. A single mother raising two boys, often working between 40-60 hours a week, working every weekend she could so she almost never had a day off. She took so much flak from her father and her brothers, and my brother. The only two outlets she had were her faith and me. And she could never be angry at the Lord. So, I took the blunt of her fury. And what fury she has boiling within her. I learned early on that it didn't matter what I did, or didn't do, whether I did it the right way, the way I was told, or my own way, I would be yelled at. My childhood was yelling. It's hard to believe the amount of fear that I carry with me every single day. It's difficult to answer the phone when she calls because I'm afraid this time she'll be angry again.
I love her. I am eternally grateful. I am terrified.
This is the year that I acknowledge and begin healing from them.
I carry so much pain with me. Emotional scars, unseen physical torments, and absolute terror. Fear of life, those around me, and my own identity.
My entire life I have always worked to be a bridge-builder. To forge lasting connections between myself, everyone around me, and to foster external connections as well. I have advised, empowered, affirmed, supported, guided and saved so many people. People know to look to me when they need help, because they know that I will always care, and always do everything I can to help. And yes, I've been having issues where I do not take into account my own boundaries and capabilities in that process. For reasons of guilt.
Guilt that who I am, and what I need, will only perpetuate the pain. "If I have the ability to help, why shouldn't I?" That's been my thought process for many years. I'm breaking that cycle the most powerful way I can.
My very identity may be enough to break the connection I have with my mother. That's my fear. That's my terror. That's my burden. I have worked tirelessly my entire life to help her in whatever form I could. She worked so hard for us. A single mother raising two boys, often working between 40-60 hours a week, working every weekend she could so she almost never had a day off. She took so much flak from her father and her brothers, and my brother. The only two outlets she had were her faith and me. And she could never be angry at the Lord. So, I took the blunt of her fury. And what fury she has boiling within her. I learned early on that it didn't matter what I did, or didn't do, whether I did it the right way, the way I was told, or my own way, I would be yelled at. My childhood was yelling. It's hard to believe the amount of fear that I carry with me every single day. It's difficult to answer the phone when she calls because I'm afraid this time she'll be angry again.
I love her. I am eternally grateful. I am terrified.