Enclosed, you will find a series of short stories that I
have been building for nearly half of my life. Admittedly, there are times where I need to be reminded that we only get this one life. That life is a gift to be cherished.
Writing has always been a refuge for me. Every chapter that I
close, forces me into an introspection that has become my own means of therapy. As I delve into the darkest and brightest days from my past, my goal is to call out the destruction caused
by emotionally absent parenting. And, if I should be so lucky that there is a
take away from my words, I hope that it
can be this; you do have a choice where
your life goes, and you do hold the power to overcome generational trauma.
You can be Better.
My surroundings were ever changing growing up. circustantially, I often feel like ive lived a thousand different lives. Like i've had a thousand different bodies, thousands of "homes".
In most ways though, It’s painfully obvious that I have always remained the same. You will see,to my own detriment, that I adopted a victim mentality early on in my life. I must have found peace enough there, to stay into early adulthood.
Somewhere during my adolescence, I found myself trapped in the hurricane of my mothers manic and depressive episodes. I built my life around the moments I knew would be good and the ones I knew would be bad. And so began my people pleasing tendencies and any hope of developing a personality of my own. Because of my upbringing, I’ve always found a way of blaming my unpopular characteristics on my mother. On the fact that she had been the woman who raised me or on the premise that I was never taught a single life lesson by her. All I learned while under her wing, was to be quiet and avoid addressing conflict. That adaptation was only to make life more comfortable for her.
My mother was always lost in her own thoughts. To disrupt those thoughts, meant dedicating hours of energy to her spiraling paranoia’s and inner conflict. Something I learned I could never hold adequate space for.
I’m grown now, and as I look into my daughters beautiful blue eyes, I cant imagine raising my daughter that way. That’s just it though... I have to wonder, Did my mother really have a choice?
Its hard to address Mental illness, when all you want is for someone to snap the hell out of it. Regardless of whether Bipolar disorder was a welcome guest or not, it was very present, and it is was as defeating as was real. it destroyed nearly everything it touched. I have to acknowledge early on, that I am wide enough now to know, it was not only me, left in its tire tracks.
If we aren’t careful with how we take care of ourselves, it will deeply affect the lives of those most dependant on us. In a lot of cases, for the rest of their lives. As the saying goes” you cant pour from an empty cup”…and I can assure my my mothers cup was almost entirely dry.
My bitterness breathes many different lives as my stories go forward. I have a compassion and love for my mother that I can regretably say, didn’t exist while she was alive. My mother was sick, and she never got better. I was far too young to realize it then, but she really was doing the best she could with what she had. Where she has always held the role of villian in my story, ive replaced a human being.
When I became pregnant I was terrified to be a mother. When we found out we would be having a little girl, the fear started a fire inside of me that I cant explain. The hatred I’ve been harbourng for all these years turned to ash. I realized that I need to do better. I have been the girl with the dead parents and spiraling mother figure for far too long. I know now more than ever it is time to re define myself. I have been both liberated and debilitated by the journey I am on to re discovery many times, but I wont stop because this is going to be the most important thing I ever do. For me, and for my Daughter.
All I know for sure is that with this book I am declaring change. I am putting it down in black and white that the generational trauma ends with me. I am taking care of myself, and I am putting in work, the best I can. The last thing I want to do is bringanother woman into this world without knowing the love that she deserves.
I refuse to do that.
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