I want to hate you. I want to hate you so badly that it hurts.
I want you to feel the disappointment that paralyzed my heart when you judged me for expressing my emotions, as if they were a foreign concept.
I want you to feel the emptiness that filled my soul. It made my body and mind feel like a disposable camera– meant to capture a few photographs and ultimately thrown in a drawer, left to be forgotten.
I want you to feel the deep insecurity that poisoned my mind when you made me feel like I was less than beautiful.
And most importantly, I want you to feel the abandonment that filled me with grief when you left without saying goodbye. You acted as if our memories and feelings ceased to exist, like we awoke from a forgotten dream.
These thoughts soothe my soul for the short-term, but the reality is: I don’t wish what I felt on anyone.
And spoiler alert: I don’t really hate you. I just don’t want to admit the truth, which is: sometimes, I miss you.
I should know better by now. Hell, I’ve been through this a hundred times before. Why is this time any different? I’m an intelligent woman, contrary to how others may have described me in the past. But like most people, I’ve perfected the very essence of the quintessential, millennial façade. On the outer surface, I easily appear relaxed and free. This is all while my inner voice has struggled to be set free – suffocated by my anxiety, people pleasing and constant need for perfection.
You see — I misplaced my voice somewhere along the way like a penny at the bottom of my purse. It’s difficult to pinpoint exactly where that loss actually occurred. Maybe I didn’t want to remember where the incident took place because I feared it might re-open some old scars that were too painful to re-endure. Was I actually strong enough to revisit all the things that took me so long to put in the past? Or maybe it’s difficult to remember because it happened so gradually that I blinked and missed it with my own naked eye. Nevertheless, it’s clear that each heartbreak and disappointment took a little part of me, piece by piece, only to be left empty.
This is not meant to be a pity rant. This is a long overdue apology I owe to myself. I’m taking strides at making peace. I’m done apologizing to others for who I am, what I stand for and what I have done. I deserve something more sacred — which, to me, is simply having my voice be heard.
Some of you unknowingly aided in my voice shrinking so much so that I eventually failed to recognize it on my own. I needed a push-off the ledge to dive head first back into my heart and soul to rediscover it. However, all things considered, I must admit, it would be entirely childish for me to place the blame on anyone else when I am just as guilty of a perpetrator. The only next steps I can take are to continue the journey and keep my voice strong – and never let it be silenced against my will again.
The main purpose of this rant is to finally unleash years of silenced emotions. It’s for my heart and soul to finally speak for themselves in their own voice — finally untainted by others’ opinions.
I can now accept that I choose what makes me happy, not anyone else, not even you. I can’t promise that I’m able to look you square in the eye and honestly say that I am happy most of the time, but I’m sure as hell not sad either. I feel content knowing that I am the most comfortable with myself than I’ve ever felt before. After some extensive heartbreak paralyzed by deafening silence, I’ve finally made peace with who I really am. I am no longer hiding in fear masked behind the perfectly crafted response.
My take away to you is that I thank you. If you hadn’t walked away when I thought I needed you the most, I would have never discovered the strength I needed within myself to guide me to where I should be.
That is, to reconnect, love and accept myself wholeheartedly for who I am – imperfections, quirks and all. It may be a long adventure, but I know I’m back on the right path, where I belong.
I hope one day we can meet again and you’ll better understand my journey. And in that moment, I’d like to know yours, too.