When I was a kid, I never had any “real” friends. I changed schools three times and just adapted to making friends randomly. I liked everyone, the nerds, the cool people, the stinky people (I think I was one of them), and the sports fanatics. I never fit into any category completely, besides stinking it up (I’m not even joking.) I adapted to each group I was with. I agreed with everyone, I went along with everyone… I liked what everyone liked, and I hated on whoever was hated on, even if I didn’t agree.
High school was much the same. I changed twice. I made good friends, but I liked everyone. I even managed to avoid getting beaten up but saying to the bully “just fucking do it”. Funny hey.
When I hit year 12 I dropped out of school, my mum had moved to her mums far away from school, and I didn’t see the point to go anymore. A friend of mine dropped out too and it seemed like fun, I followed. It’s funny because parents used to think I was the bad influence because I was loud, but little did they know I just copied what anyone else did.
I never really knew who I was even as an adult. I coasted through life. When I was 19 I had this shuttering feeling that there had been a reason why I wanted to please people so much and be accepted, and had no real identity. I remember sitting on the steps outside my sisters porch feeling this uneasiness and I couldn’t figure out why. Something hit me, it was weird, it was like I unblocked something from my mind.
Much of what I write requires a trigger content warning, so please do not read any further if you are sensitive to sexual abuse. (I’m sorry if even that has disturbed you).
It hit me like a ton of bricks, all in this one moment, that I was sexually abused as a child. I will one day name the person who did it, but today I won’t. This person is long gone and dead, and hopefully in hell. This person abused my trust, my families trust and abused their position in my life. I have found it easy to talk about lately because I can attribute much of my parental angst and anxiety to it. Being sexually abused, amongst other things, has made me extremely anxious and fearful. I’m still angry about it, and that’s okay. I’m allowed to be.
I was called a “good girl” for going along with whatever this monster wanted, and because of that I was young and timid and went along with anyone because I wanted to make others happy.
After this, I became angry. I became opinionated and mainly disagreed with everything anyone said. I became stronger too. I stopped taking shit from everyone and anyone but kept myself guarded. I’ve told a few friends about it, and most were supportive, and those who weren’t were promptly kicked to the curb.
Being who you are, and being honest about it, can be dangerous sometimes. You upset other people because they want you to keep quiet, you upset other people because you don’t go along with what they want. You make people uncomfortable because you pull out the dirt from under the rug, and you embarrass yourself and others because you’ve aired your dirty laundry. I’m tired of living like that.
I saw a quote today “Waking up to who you are requires letting go of who you imagine yourself to be.” ~Alan Watts
When we are kids, we are afraid to tell the truth because it can sometimes lead to punishment, and to lie means you avoid punishment. Even as adults we lie to avoid it, avoid being judged, and to be accepted. We portray a perfect image of ourselves so that others won’t see our scars. You tell people you’re fine when you’re not, because being who you are is a weakness in your mind. Being vulnerable is scary, very very scary. And if you are like me, you’ve learnt when you’re vulnerable, like I was as a child, that you will be taken advantage of.
I was so wound up on being perfect and hiding things. I even apologise for things I shouldn’t be apologising for. I say “sorry, my house is so dirty”… Even when I spent hours cleaning it. Like fuck, do I need to really worry about shit like that?
I don’t need to impress anyone in my life, and I shouldn’t have to. I don’t expect them to impress me, I expect them to be real and honest, so that is what I should give back. I woke up today accepting who I am, flaws and all, beauty and honesty and I know my heart comes from a good place, I don’t need to “be” for anyone else.
I’m good enough. I’m a good enough person, I’m a good enough parent and wife, sister and daughter. I’m a good enough friend. And I’m happy with being me, even if that means not pleasing anyone, because I’m not a kid anymore.
Id like to think of a motivation comment to go at the end to leave this on a positive note, but I don’t have anything, except, be yourself, because thats what counts.
Peeeeeeeas and love lol x