surprisingly, my biggest insecurity is not the thing i nitpicked about my appearance at age 13 or a personality flaw i discovered in one of my most cathartic breakdowns. i have never been scared of the things within my control. a trait is something i can change over time with habit and discipline, but the circumstances i’ve been born with–that i cannot do anything about.
in a world that places a premium on familial relationships and filial obligations, i am extremely insecure of the dysfunctional relationship i have with my family. i am always thankful people around me seem to think i have a good relationship with my family because if i can’t do anything about them, i at least can do something about how i’m perceived. which is why i always thought i’d be able to bring this secret to the grave because it’s fairly easy to pretend you’re well-rounded and have normal, manageable family problems when you aren’t being prodded at to open up.
but it’s not even that i’m being forced to open up. i’m just growing up and exploring my horizons. and along the way, i am discovering that a lot of the exploration stems from this: a desire for intimacy and deep connections; which then leads to this: stripping oneself naked to the core of what makes one who they are–their motivations, their desires, their fears, their past, and their roots.
to me, this means having to open up about the people behind my upbringing. the maybe misguided methods with which they instilled their values. the punishments i’ve had to endure. the patterns from childhood that i think i’ve somehow never been able to escape. the pipeline in which my primary caregivers’ demeanors go through is cyclical and therefore their treatment merely alternates from abusive-neglectful –> manipulatively affectionate. i have built up such great resentment, and sometimes the hate in my heart is so, so strong that it often dilutes me into a humiliated crying mess instead of this complex young lady that i esteem myself to me.
this is my biggest insecurity: that i have such hate in my heart for the people who have immensely hurt me and will undoubtedly continue hurting me, though i am wildly aware of and burdened by this societal expectation that i’m supposed to love them unyieldingly. and you know how people flex their good families and bring their partners to family functions and delight in the fact that the people that matter to them get along so well?? and get plus points for that? i’m scared that i will never have that. because i only ever want to put my right foot forward but i hold so much hate and shame and fear against my family, that it’s really not a good look on me at this point.
by all accounts from the people in my microsystem, it’s perfectly fine if they don’t know what my mother’s husband is like. they will never need to know me deep enough to delve into the nuances of my personality and what shaped it. but in order to get what i want (the intimacy i crave) i have to let those that i hold close to my heart, see this part of me regardless of how vulnerable a position i know it’s going to put me in. they too will have to know of how strong my negative feelings are towards my father, and they too will also have to know of the negative feelings my father has for me.
and sometimes i fear that when people discover i don’t really know what it feels like to be unconditionally loved, they will realize how easy i am to discard BUT that’s overdramatic, and a story for another day. hopefully a story more lighthearted than this.
SO
there’s that. this did not make sense. but it’s fine because i also never intended for this to make sense. despite how insane i go trying to make sense of everything.
p.s. wondering if anyone with a bad rs w/ their parents feels like this too. maybe we can tear down the shame together and foster empathy instead.
goodnight
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