It has been said that kids who grow up in an unfortunate family situation or a bad upbringing will often have trouble holding steady relationships when they get older with other people, whether it be romantic or platonic. It has also been said that these same kids will more than likely end up in a similar relationship as their parents, and so on.
Growing up, things were unfortunate at times, but they were no worse than anyone else’s situation I’m sure. Hell, they were probably even better than the way some kids lived. Nonetheless, that doesn’t lessen anything I’ve seen or been through. It’s always weird being a kid when chaos is going on around you because all of the adults try their hardest to shield you from it.
What they don’t realize is all they’ve done is created a glass window for you to press your confused little face against, so you can listen to the words they think you don’t understand.
I guess that’s what happened to me. Everyone was always trying to keep me away from things, or prevent me from knowing anything, and so I listened. Eventually, if you listen hard enough to all of those scattered words, you can come to your own conclusion and decide how you feel. Well, that’s what I did. I listened, and I processed. My best and worst quality has always been being too stubborn to listen to anyone else, which came in handy because I refused to let anyone tell me how to feel about something.
This is probably why my reactions were so neutral to some things when professionals would ask the seven year old me that sat in the tiny plastic chair surrounded by therapy toys “how do you feel?” to which I had to muster up some fake emotion so they would be satisfied enough to give me that crinkle-eyed concerned look as they scribbled on their clipboards.
I went against the grain in my head though. On the outside I said I was upset, confused, etc. But on the inside, I went with what I felt. Though confused was actually genuine, I was calm other than that. I was normal for the most part. I dealt with things in my own way that nobody else saw as normal, so some expected me to be stealing from convenience stores and skipping school by thirteen I’m sure, but that’s just how people saw it from their own perspective.
For me, I was just living the way that made me happy.
Your past is your past. There is nothing you can do to change it. The things that happened were not always for a good reason because life is completely screwed up sometimes, let’s just face that. You more than likely didn’t deserve to endure the pain you did, and chances are it has impacted the way you live today in some small or large way.
But please, please, do not let your past be who you are.
Don’t dwell on it, don’t keep ripping open the scab because someone said you were supposed to. If the pictures hurt to see, burn them. If those drawings remind you of the days you didn’t want to go home because of something or someone waiting, throw them away.
I am not the “they says”. I am merely someone who digs her feet into the ground too deep to let a few little bumps take her down so easily. Don’t let anyone tell you how you’re supposed to feel, or what you’re supposed to be doing.
Your upbringing has nothing to do with who you are today.
Let yourself decide how you’re going to react, because that’s the best thing you can do in a world that is set on telling you the person you need to be. You only become what they say you will if you let yourself, and you are much better than that.