40+ Years Old

 

Something I never expected, or would have known I should expect after turning 40, is that people would start to use my age against me. And frequently. “You’re 40 years old, you “should” or “shouldn’t” be doing x, y, z…”, for example. I didn’t know that my time limit on making mistakes, or living life on my own terms had an expiration date prior to my date of death.

It’s understandable that people have set expectations on your behaviors based on your age, but this line has been used towards me for everything from having trouble with getting a key into a stuck lock, to my choice to run a business, to my trauma-responses. All within a matter of a few months. So my question is, does our free-will expire socially? Does people’s compassion for others expire after their subject of scrutiny reaches a certain age? We give leniency to people as they are living and growing and learning who they are, making mistakes, etc., primarily to those in their 20’s. Perhaps it extends beyond that into the 30’s because they are still seen as similar enough to their 20’s and still young. But by the time we are 40, we have crossed this unspoken, invisible threshold into a part of our adulthood that symbolizes wisdom and an expectation that we have certain things by this time, and act certain ways that reflect our life experiences.

Writing this, you would think I’m still living in my parent’s basement, smoking weed every day and drinking and partying on the weekends, based on the comments I received and the manner in which I’m critiquing the expectations of my age. But, I don’t do any of those things. I do live in my parent’s house, but one they own and do not live in. I live here with my daughter, who I’m the primary caretaker for and pay the bills of the house on my own. I run a family business with my brother and am formulating other personal career objectives on the side. Yet, I still have received these comments from those close to me. Which begs one to wonder, how small is the box that we are putting ourselves inside of as we age? As things get harder for us, the world wants us to shrink even further away than we physically already are deteriorating? Shouldn’t we have earned more personal freedom with age? I suppose that is the case if you fit into the box well enough that nobody questions you. But is that freedom at all, or just a very comfortable box for you?

I guess it’s not a comfortable box for me...since others are seeing me struggle within and without it. I have always been a late bloomer in life. Living it at my own speed and coming to terms with things later than most. But it feels like even this trait of mine is no longer allowed. It almost feels like a second-coming of the inadequacies I already processed and overcame that I developed as an adolescent, not measuring up to my peers and their development both personally and academically. Others being disappointed at my trajectory, not living up to my potential, and going in the wrong direction in life in general. I had the excuse of very minimal adult guidance in my life at the time, which people and myself now understand, looking back. But I didn’t know it at the time. I blamed myself and internalized all of my insecurities about myself which lead to further self-hatred and only perpetuated the cycle that initially lead me there.

Now, at my age, I don’t have the excuse of a lack of adult guidance. I’m “supposed” to know everything by now. But honestly, I didn’t even realize this comparison until I just now started writing it out. I am in therapy, I watch videos on self-help and therapy, I read about mental health, I meditate, and I'm a naturally analytical person which does not cease to extend to my own mind and behaviors - not even for a second. Yet, I still don’t have the adult guidance I missed out on in my adolescence. I have myself and I’m expected to have all the answers but the only difference between now and then is...I don’t have an excuse in the eyes of others for my perceived “failings”.

The thing is, I don’t need an excuse. Because I’m an adult, right? I don’t expect an excuse from myself because I don’t need to explain anything to anyone. Yet, they still question me. Why? Why do my choices, my mistakes, my behaviors reflect to them something that needs to be corrected? Does it reflect immaturity? And why do I not talk to others in this way? No matter their circumstances or mistakes, I haven’t told them different expectations due to their age. Because I think...I’m now realizing; that’s judgment. That’s a judgment that they are not behaving in the way that you think they ought to at a certain age. And I’m not saying others have to be like me, but that it is disconcerting to receive these criticisms when I guess I don’t perceive others in a similar fashion. It feels like an attack on my character or just me as a person, and maybe it is. Even if they don’t intend it that way. Because I’m not acting the way I’m supposed to – so there’s something “wrong” about me and/or my behavior.

I can’t force myself to be someone other than who I am, and one thing being this age has taught me is that after all these years; this is part of who I am. Someone who apparently has behaviors that others see as ill-fitting for my age. What is the point where you realize that you need to change, or are you simply still being misunderstood? Do I really need to be someone who acts the age that others think I should be? Or do I now, with age, have the ability to look inwards and take with me the lessons learned from the past and say to myself NOW – what I wish I would have known then – which is that it’s okay. I am okay. In fact, I’m doing great with what I have and can still do even greater things yet on my own terms, at my own pace, and my own way. To give myself the freedom that others won’t. When others won’t advocate for me, I advocate for myself. And not in a defensive posture, but in a confident and loving one – for I do not want to express judgment about myself that others may direct towards me. So, it’s not about not changing or having to change who I am, but having compassion and understanding for myself that I may not receive elsewhere, rather than expecting others to behave a certain way and resenting them or judging them for their lack of it. And THAT is acting my age. <3

- Angel

Isn't It Nice to be Needed?

Imagine being told this after getting home at 9:30 PM after operating your business late on a Sunday night, dropping off a helper friend, stopping to get gas to prepare for the week because you have to take your daughter to school in the morning and it’s better to do it now than wait till after because you remember being told how bad it is for the car you’re driving that you don’t own because you can’t afford it and you’re trying to be better prepared in general, being hungry because you can’t eat much on your extremely limited diet due to chronic stomach issues that you still went off of tonight by eating a small snack because you were so hungry and all you’d eaten prior was 1/4th a cup of Cream of Rice because that’s one of your safe foods that won’t cause you intense, agonizing stomach pain and you can still function off of it, it was also all you had time to make even though you really wanted to cook a whole meal for you and your daughter but stopped mid-potato peeling when you realized you wouldn’t have time and told her you’re sorry while you made yourself your small quick bowl instead, then walking in your home and knowing you have to feed your 3 indoor cats and one outside stray you feed because he deserves at least that even though you wish you could do more, and you tell the person who came to watch your child, in exasperation and slight desperation for compassion and sympathy that you often have to feed everyone else before eating yourself every time you get home and they tell you in response — “Isn’t it nice to be needed?” Become a Medium member This might be an otherwise ambiguous statement from anyone else, if it weren’t one of many similar types of comments I’ve received in this same manner, in the same context. Statements I usually simply respond to in annoyance or do my best to ignore. But it’s always when I attempt to communicate or express my own difficulties or struggles with a situation or my feelings, it is often met with a similar dinstinctive cutting comment. Cutting how? Well, it’s not an outright insult, is it? You’re not explicitely telling the person, “Oh, stop complaining, you have so much to be grateful for.” But it certianly implies it. Now, I am an extremely grateful person. I am not religious, but I do frequently give thanks in prayer at the end of the night, to whoever or whatever may be listening BECAUSE I’m grateful. I am acutely aware of everything in my life I’m grateful for due to having been very close to losing it all during periods of illness in my life. In fact, I’ve experienced such extreme pain in my body due to illnesses and reactions to medications that every moment I’m not in pain is a gift to me. However, does this mean that I don’t experience other emotions? That I don’t experience exhaustion? Stress? Conflicts? Confusion? Complete and utter fatigue or even anger and resentment at times? I experience all of the above even while remaining ever-grateful for the ability to continue experiencing even the negative emotions life often brings us all. But this comment wasn’t made with the genuine notion that I don’t. It was made with the intention of implying that perhaps I don’t deserve to feel those ways at all. That underneath my efforts in life, is a lack of determination, consistency, and hard work, in the opinion of the person telling me this comment. That I don’t deserve to feel any of those negative feelings I described above because I haven’t earned the right to. So, when expressing them, they feel the need to cut and shut it down immediately by subtly implying I’m somehow wrong for feeling these negative feelings and need to be reminded of the positive aspects of my life. I don’t deserve to feel tired. I don’t deserve to feel overwhelmed. I don’t deserve to wish that I could come home and rest. Only the hardest workers deserve that. In fact, this person was a very hard worker in their past. They sacrificed much of their personal time in exchange for working many jobs that they forced themselves to go to daily. That’s not something I’ve been able to do myself. Try as I might, and as many times as I’ve might, nothing ever stuck. Nothing except creating my own path and carving my own place in the tree of life that is only my own. This makes me appear weak and incapable to this person and because I failed, in their opinion, to show my work ethic the way they have — I am not good enough to complain. I don’t deserve compassion. I don’t deserve sympathy. I deserve to have my negative emotions, my fatigue, my exhaustion, my desire for a soft place to hand where I’m NOT needed when I’m already overwhelmed shut down and instead have a mirror shoved up to my face to show me just how lucky I am to be needed instead. The problem is I AM the mirror. You aren’t showing me anything I didn’t already know. I already know how lucky I am. I’ve always known. That’s exactly why I’m exhausted the way that I am. That’s exactly why I wish I could just get home and eat because I do it all for those who need me. I don’t push myself to feed them all because I feel I have to. But because it’s what drives me towards it. My love for those who depend on me allows me to be there for them when they need me, and allows for me to complain about it sometimes when it gets so hard that I can barely keep up with it all! It is my gratitude that allows me to complain because without knowing exactly how good it is to be needed — I wouldn’t be needed at all. I’d have given up and I wouldn’t be so tired, so overwhelmed, so in need of basic compassion and understanding from those around me. If I weren’t grateful, I wouldn’t be feeding everyone else first. I’d be feeding myself first and balking at anyone who walks in thier house tired and hungry, expressing the need for connection — instead telling them, “Isn’t it nice to be needed?”

Our Big Trip!

 I took way too long to write this, but I really wanted to write it. Making another FB post with vague captions and pictures didn't do the trip justice for me. I'll tell you why.

Snow was looking forward to this trip so much. We planned something a little crazy and we did it with the best of intentions. It started when I talked to my brother, and he told me of his plans to take my 3 nephews to Legoland in California. I'd been feeling like taking a similar kind of road trip for a while as I wanted to visit CA and Vegas since I hadn't been for a few years. And some deeper part of me really desired to get out and explore a little again.

I was hesitant to commit myself to the trip since I often prepared for the worst or to have health issues that would limit my ability to go. I didn't want to put a damper on Snow's excitement though, so I tried to allow her to enjoy the thought of going while also letting her know I'd do my best to make it happen. I had no idea how much that statement would be put to the test, lol.

The date of the trip really caught me off-guard as it seemed to sneak up on us when I thought we still had a couple of weeks left. The days before the trip, I wanted to get my van looked at by our mobile mechanic to make sure it was in good condition for such a long trek. Oh, did I mention the trek itself yet? We planned to have our first night's stay in Las Cruces, NM. Then on to Tombstone, followed by 3 nights in San Diego, 1 night in Hollywood, then on to the Grand Canyon, and finally finish in Las Vegas for another 3 nights. It was a lot. I'd planned to take my minivan since I purchased it for the sole purpose of road trips and camping. Therefore, I asked my mechanic to fix the AC issue and recharge it (it seemed to blow less cold on my side and was inconsistent) and check it out for anything else it needed. He agreed but I didn't hear back from him the day he was supposed to work on it. Annoyed with his unreliability (he'd done this before), I took the car to the dealership because I knew they would at least check out everything and let me know if there were any issues so I could then let a more affordable mechanic know. I couldn't have prepared for their findings, however. They found over $5,000 in repairs that were recommended. I'd paid $4,800 for the van! Which had thus far, run smoothly with minimal issues.

I freaked out and was immediately stressed by all of the leaks and issues they found. I messaged the mechanic who'd not only told me the van should be fine, but supposedly repaired one of the leaks they found. He found it laughable they had such a high estimate and assured me that from what he saw, the van would be fine. I felt somewhat assured, but still worried as we decided to still load up the van and get ready to go. As I was picking up my mom, I noticed the oil change sticker's date had recently passed and an oil change was also due. Due to the issues they found with the leaks, I thought it best not to risk it and get an oil change at a quick-change place before we left. The attendants at the oil change place were nice but also let us know of one of the leaks they found, which worried me further. At this point, my mom offered that maybe we should get a rental if I was so concerned about everything (it must have shown on my face), but I never wanted to spend more than we needed to. Since the van had recent problems, I no longer had the extra money for the trip I was counting on and didn't want to ask for more for a rental, which I figured would be an unnecessary expense, so I said no, it's fine. And we were all packed up and ready to go finally. I wouldn't realize how much of a mistake it was to not take her offer until much later.

So, we were on the road!! At last. As we left San Antonio, I prayed and hoped everything would be okay, though for some reason I still felt very unsettled about the whole thing. I'd just started to calm down when all the sudden a light came on the dashboard that I'd never seen before. It was shaped like a battery. I quickly tried to look it up on my phone and it said it was either the battery or the alternator. This concerned me and I decided to pull over at the next exit, which luckily had a McDonald's and a few gas stations. As we pulled off and slowed down at the light, the car began to jerk which startled all of us. I guided the car into the parking lot and we were able to at least make it into the parking lot where I called my brother immediately. He recommended we try to find a mobile mechanic in the area, which we did. Luckily, one stated he would be there in about an hour so we rested at the McDonald's while I nervously waited to see what the issue was. 

After he got there, he said it was as I stated, either the battery or the alternator but his scanner wouldn't hook up without power to the battery. So, he jumped it and asked us to follow him to his house so he could try to charge it longer and then scan it. Seeing as we had few options, we did and hoped it was an easy fix. When we got there, we asked my brother if he could pick up a battery for us because there weren't any option auto shops in the little town we were in. I felt badly about because he was driving a truck hauling a big camper and 4 kids! My Mom told me to tell him to get the alternator too, in case it was that, but I was so overwhelmed with the situation, I must have forgotten to mention it. I didn't want to bother my poor brother with our problems and this mechanic was meanwhile, charging up my car with his dogs running around a random country road while Snow was trying to remain calm (she was never a fan of dogs). Finally, the mechanic said he had a friend who could get into a shop to get us a battery and he thought that was probably it, so we followed him to the shop. I let my brother know we wouldn't need it after all and felt even worse. *Forehead slap emoji*. Lol. 

We go to the shop, and about $300 and 3 hours later, we were finally back on the road again. He tested it and said the alternator tested good, so we were relieved it just seemed to be the battery. We were all kind of nervous getting back on the road, especially Snow and I, but also relieved to just keep going. Relieved for about another half hour until the exact same battery light came on the dash again. We were all so surprised and upset, but as the driver I needed to choose whether to turn around or keep going in an effort to get further along on the trip. Considering all of my uncertainty with the van being able to make it further along the trip, I decided to turn around to try to get closer back to home if we needed to go back. While that would show to be the right decision, the car began jerking just as it did before about 8 minutes until we got back to the same town we originally got stuck in; Junction, TX. It was about 9:30 PM by this time, dark and on a road with no streetlights as we had to pull over for fear of damaging the car any further. We pulled over and called the insurance for the roadside assistance. They stated they would send a Lyft driver, a tow truck, and a police officer for safety purposes. Two hours later, nobody'd arrived. Finally, a good Samaritan pulled over and offered us a ride into town. We were cautious but limited in options by this point and the town was very close by. It was also very dangerous being on the side of the highway with my mother and daughter in the dark with lots of cars driving by, so I had to weigh my options and decided to take a chance. Luckily, we arrived at a gas station where we waited another 2 hours for a good friend to come pick us up to just get us back home to San Antonio. As we waited for my friend to arrive, I called the insurance and was told they'd cancelled the Lyft driver since there were none around. I was upset and frustrated. I was also told they couldn't get a tow truck till the morning. I asked if they could tow it to the gas station and we'd planned to try to tow the van home ourselves and get a rental and tow bar in the morning since Uhaul online didn't allow me to reserve their towing appliances for my vehicle. We got home around 3 AM and did our best to sleep before getting up early to deal with everything that was awaiting us the next day.

The next day, my mom was able to find a really great deal on a rental and we procured the tow bar and things were looking up finally. Snow was not relenting on wanting to go on this trip still, so I continued to try to keep going despite the obvious stressful setbacks. The rental was nice and felt safe so we were hopeful on our drive to getting the van towed up to our friend's truck. Unfortunately, that was another story in and of itself. 

We arrived back at Junction and the van was at the gas station, as requested. In order to try to attach the tow bar to the bumper, we had to remove the bumper entirely, but the fasteners were not budging. On top of that, there wasn't a place to attach the tow bar on my bumper. We thought maybe we could drill into it and there was a plug next to the van, so I went and bought a drill at the nearby hardware store. As we plugged into the power, we realized there was no power. The corded drill I just purchased was completely useless. It was about 100 degrees outside, and a couple of hours had passed by now. Frustrated doesn't begin to describe how I was starting to feel about everything. And I felt horrible for my friend trying to help us in the Texas heat as well, stuck in a gas station parking lot in Junction. I decided to go return the drill and while I did that, I went next door to another hardware store to see if I could borrow a rechargeable one. The place happened to be next to the shop we were at yesterday, so I told Snow I should go and see if I could borrow one. I went and explained our situation and they were nice enough to lend us their drill with an extra battery pack just in case. I quipped to Snow that this was really starting to seem like a D&D campaign. 

We got back with the drill and my friend got back to work on removing the bumper with the drill as he drilled through the fasteners since they wouldn't move. As he began to try to drill into my bumper though, we quickly realized it was an act in futility. I was exasperated by this point. But still trying to find a solution. I asked my mom to return the drill and asked my friend if he thought we could use the straps to tie the tow bar to the bumper instead. He agreed that theoretically, it made sense if it would be sturdy and tight enough. The gas station we were at had very heavy-duty tow straps so we purchased a couple, and my friend attempted the best he could to secure the tow bar both with straps and the safety chain to the bumper and his truck. Finally, it seemed that at least something was somewhat working. When he moved, the van moved: success! Or so we thought. We just wanted to get the van home safely. And maybe that desire affected our logical thought processes because as we drove behind him to follow him a bit for safety, we noticed my car smoking from the engine. We pulled over and saw that the weight of the truck when he stopped pushed the tow bar into the engine and busted the radiator which was leaking through the AC condenser. I was nearly distraught by this point. My mom still wanted to find a way to keep going but this was the only vehicle I have to my name, and I was watching it being destroyed, basically. I was exasperated and exhausted and hot and sweaty and tired and sad. I had one more idea, which I'd had before but we were cautious about doing because we weren't sure if it was legal, which was to use the tow hitch on the back of the van for the tow bar. We attempted this and it actually appeared to be very sturdy as were able to use the bolts and attachments for the bar this time, but after a test drive, saw that the bar was bending. My friend offered to try to drive the car as far as he could, but as much as I wanted the van home, I didn't want to risk his safety. We bit the bullet and called a tow truck to tow it into Kerrville to a shop since it was at least closer to home and out of Junction. We all just wanted to get out of that damn town. 

It was $875 to tow to SA to so I thought it might be more affordable to tow to Kerville and it was. It was $300, still not exactly cheap. But again, we just wanted to get it done with by that point. We didn't know how much the repair would be, but at least it would be out of *here*. We waited another hour and finally, I watched my poor, beat-up van being loaded up onto the tow truck. All of that effort was a complete waste of time, energy, and money. I was ready to give up and just go home but Snow still, somehow, was so disappointed at the thought of not going on the trip that I couldn't give up on it for her. So somehow, we readied up after another 5 hours of disappointment in the sun and got back on the road. 

After leaving Junction, it felt like a rush of freedom and 

My Mind is a Horrible Place

 I wanted to talk about something not a lot of people know about me, not even my closest friends. It has to do with how anxiety started for me and some of my deepest, darkest thoughts that still affect me today. Something I'm going through has brought a lot of this up for me and I'd like to share some of it.

I was in elementary school when these uncomfortable feelings started, being nauseous at the smells and sounds of the cafeteria. I never ate until middle school when I couldn't not eat anymore. Fries, at most. The worst experience that I remember was earlier on though. I was home, at about 7 or 8 years old. I accidentally overheard one of the shows in the living room. The murderer was being questioned and his response was, "The devil made me do it". Immediately, my brain latched onto this idea and wouldn't let it go. I became tormented with the concept that an outside entity could completely overtake and overpower your entire being. My earliest memory of the extent of the mental torment was being in my room, rocking back and forth and crying to my Mom that I wish I were normal. I couldn't escape the thoughts of the devil taking over me. Leaving the house didn't help, talking didn't help. People didn't know anything about anxiety at the time. I was taken to the church and given advice on how to ward off the devil. So, the battle continued. Over and over, I attempted to resist the thoughts of giving my soul to the devil and allowing him to overtake me with trying to remain good. These thoughts would give me a feeling that didn't allow me comfort or peace anywhere I went, not in the safety of my room or with my family. It was mental agony with no relief. I only ever learned to mentally block myself from it and avoid the thoughts whenever possible. I read Archie comics, I watched mindless TV, I listened to music, I wrote. I desperately hung onto these things for the closest thing to relief I had; distraction.

    Finally, in my early teenage years I discovered paganism/Wicca. I became enamored with the idea that the bible wasn't real, nor was the God or the Devil. Not in the way we were taught. Finally, I had some amount of mental peace for the first time in years. And I connected with the concept of being connected to the Earth, which I'd always felt. Throughout my life I would struggle with different anxiety triggers, but this would remain my deepest, most terrifying one that continued to resurface at times. I tried to surround myself with peaceful, positive sentiments because anything beyond that had the ability to retrigger me, so I largely avoided anything horror-related, knowing my ability to spiral mentally. When I was confronted with it, I separated myself from it and compartmentalized it mentally as something fake or stupid.

    After learning about anxiety and OCD, I learned a lot of what I experienced were OCD related intrusive thoughts, a symptom of anxiety. I still experience anxiety and have awful, disgusting, grotesque, intrusive thoughts which I am admittedly still frightened of and generally try to avoid just for my own well-being. However, this new horror project I'm on doesn't allow me to hide. If I want to contribute to this experience and help create a literal nightmare, I have to allow myself to unravel this ball of yarn I've hidden from for so long. Although I've largely avoided this part of me, I'm pushing myself to take from my own mind and of the horror I've seen in this world. It hasn't been easy but I'm glad that I have an amazing team behind me to balance me out when I feel I'm careening off the edges at times. I'm not sure how I come off to others, but I wonder if this part of me is perceived at all with how much I've strived to overcome it. I go to therapy, I drink herbal tea, I try to exercise routinely, I care for the Earth, I give thanks, I recognize beauty in the little things, I try to help others where I can, and I pray nightly. And I watch cartoons. Lol. But here, in the depths and darkness, the stillness of my mind is that which still holds power of me; my own horrible nightmare. It's not fake. It's not stupid. And I'm starting to understand it now more than ever. I hope you do too.

Unrequited Grace

 Imagine texting your dad, who rarely ever talks to you, a cool, old picture of him and he just never responds. Because that's the kind of behavior and energy I get from the other person who made me. Idk why I still try sometimes. I guess I should be one of those who can just cut everyone off like they don't matter and usually I can, if they're harmful for me. I had to learn that; how to let go. But it doesn't sit right with me with you. I guess it's a good thing that I'm not like you in that way. You and my beautiful brother who was my father figure in your absence and who also stopped talking to us 12 years ago. Both of you made hurtful choices. But I learned to love from a distance from you two and I always will be here for you. You may never see this but maybe the sentiment will echo in your spirit someday. I love you anyway. Always 💕

Y'all

 The enormity of it all is almost too much to take. Just know I always wanted to be here with you. Let me relive those times again and again to distract myself from the end of them. Thank you for being here with me. I'm glad I could always count on you, even if I was always bad with numbers.

I Remembered

I no longer wish to only write in my journal. For my own eyes to see. Something happened today that made me realize again how it felt for me for so many years. 

Something that helped me to remember why it has been such a long struggle for me to get to where I am today, and to sometimes continue to struggle with my own self-worth and value. 

I do not blame you for my feelings, but I do hold you accountable for your treatment towards me. I had forgotten how cruel you could be to me. How heartless one would have to be to negate the feelings of their child so easily, in favor of their own. But I am no longer a child. Why did this still hurt me as if I were one? How did it bring me back to those times so quickly?  The condescension in your voice and words, the gestures of contempt towards me when I expressed myself, the coldness and silence in my presence after I disappointed you so. I suppose, if anyone treated me this way, I would still be hurt but I wouldn't allow it. I would fire back and leave upon my own volition. But as you are such a big part of me, I cannot leave so easily. 

It reminds me of those movies I watch when I wonder how realistic is this that this person would put up with being treated that way and not say something equally harsh and cruel in response to their defense? Why keep this person in their lives? Such a farce, I'd think to myself. 

In the past, I would fight. I would run. I would yell and scream and cry and hate myself for being so inadequate. I even thought I deserved it for a long time. I treated myself poorly because of it. Recently, I'd started thinking that maybe I was being dramatic. Maybe it wasn't really that bad and I'd convinced myself somehow over the years that it was worse than it actually was, merely because our interactions had vastly improved over time. After I received years of counseling, you retired and seemed less stressed, and I'd learn to accept you as you were instead of fighting to be heard or understood. I accepted the good in our relationship and was grateful for it. You also seemed to soften a bit in your later years, which I was even more grateful for.

But today I was reminded of the pain I used to feel all too often growing up. To be treated as if my words and feelings were a burden when they dared to cross your path in a way you did not approve. I was reminded why the years of counseling were a necessary part of my healing and self-improvement. You asked me, "Why do you always feel the need to talk about EVERYTHING?!", in an exasperated tone as I tried to explain how sorry I was that I felt too overwhelmed at the moment for the short trip we planned, and how I understood that we had different motivations since your husband was there waiting and I did not have that motivation. I was attempting to be heard because it was never my intention to disappoint or upset anybody, I was simply struggling with my responsibilities at my home and the stress of going on an 8-hour long drive each way for a single-day trip. 

I remembered how often I had to fight to be heard, to be understood. And why I still struggle with this very thing to this day. How defensive I can be, especially if I'm feeling I'm being dismissed by somebody. How quickly I respond in anger when I feel disrespected in the slightest. How much of that rage from being treated so insignificantly and bothersome was internalized within me and released on those who truly, likely, did not deserve it to that degree. And how I accepted similar mistreatment from others in my relationships because I either did not believe I deserved any better, or because I was acclimated to it and thought it normal. When you told your husband we would not be going, you told him, "thank you for understanding". Something so simple but so difficult for me to have gotten from you for the same exact disappointment.

I didn't scream or fight or run away. I attempted to express how I truly felt, and it was met with coldness and sarcasm. I was surprised that it still hurt just as much as it used to, except I did not react in the same way that I used to. I cried on my own, on my way back home as I decided to write this. As I decided that if you would not hear me, I would still speak; despite what others may think. Because I do deserve to be heard and felt. I refuse to continue to feel that I must silence myself for the same reasons I used to fight to be heard; because of the unfair and unjust judgment I might receive. 

Because to be treated so coldly by someone who is supposed to protect and have compassion for you on one side, and to have another not value you enough to be present at all, is a lot to bear for any one person and apparently can still affect you many years later. Or at least, is clearly the case with me. At an early age I learned to write about how I felt to help me express the pain I dealt since it would not be heard otherwise. I also learned to look for acceptance in online exchanges since I did not feel I received it elsewhere, with those whose opinions I truly valued. As I no longer seek acceptance as I used to, I also no longer seek to feign perfection to gain said acceptance. 

So, this is me. This is one of the days I've cried over feeling hurt, of many. A lot of people may scoff at pain, judge it and label it as weakness. In fact, that was your overarching perspective towards my sensitivities, but I disagree wholeheartedly. To be able to still feel in our world and in this universe and at this age somehow, is a marvel and wonder even to me. I cherish and value my heart more now than I ever have before because it somehow still works! 

I will take this absence of compassion for me and instill it into my own daughter so that she may never experience the pain, frustration, and anger of being shut out by a loved one. I would never claim perfection, but I at least know that I will do everything in my power to make her feel that she can cry in front of me and doesn't have to turn to her pen for comfort instead of to me.  <3