Describing yourself was always something that I personally never liked to be put on the spot to do, because really who am I? I am the youngest of three girls, I am a plus sized beautiful woman, I am strong, often seen as resilient, I am smart, artistic, and kind. I am a protector, I am both and introverted and extroverted, I am empathic, I am nurturing or motherly and often times selfless. All of these things make up parts of who I am, the better parts of myself. But who I am is deeper than just the good things, who I am is made up of characteristics and faults that no one ever really likes to admit about their self. I am overweight, at times lacking confidence. I find myself feeling weak or broken on a regular basis. I have a misdemeanor charge on my record, I suffer from depression and just being off balanced in my own head. I am at times selfish, spiteful, and ruthless. I am angry, I am bitter and I have control issues. Although, most of the time the good qualities outweigh the bad, the bad qualities still at times break through.
So let’s get a little more in depth with why I am the way I am. I grew up in a small town, one in which I currently came back to almost ten years ago due to certain family circumstances which I may or may not go into depth fully. I am the youngest of my mother’s three daughters. We did not grow up in a luxurious lifestyle, my parents, mostly my mother worked hard to just make it, to make sure we had the necessities of life and instilled into us the quality that if you want something you work and you work hard and sometimes even that may not be enough but you never quit. There were times that my mom worked three jobs, that woman is my hero, she is the reason that my good outshines my bad if it was not for her I would be hopeless and would have succumbed to the demons to suppress all the bad. She is the kindest, most hardworking biggest hearted person I have truly ever met in my life.
My father on the other hand was the definition of a despicable human being, and while yes he is my father and there are few memories to where he was not pure evil most memories of my life around him are not fond. The man who is supposed to be a little girls hero and protector was none other than the thing that created mine and my sisters nightmares. My father was abusive in multiple ways and although my sisters endured most of it, the mental and verbal has left me scared and broken. What child should live in fear everyday of their life to have to walk on eggshells to try to avoid the mental and verbal abuse? What child should feel that they have to barracaid their self in their room at night so “if” the door was opened they would wake up soon enough to react so the “monster” wouldn’t be able to abuse you in the manner you know that they were capable of doing? And before anyone judges my mother, my father was good at hiding his true colors, he was good at making threats that small children couldn’t tell whether it would happen or not against none other than our mother so not a word was spoken of it, he was also mentally and verbally abusive towards my mother, controlled and dictated and belittled her everyday, my Mother did what she believed was the right thing, she was clueless of most of what was endured at the hands of this man and tried to be the peace or the doormat for all the other shit so we wouldn’t have to, she was a victim of the living hell just like the rest of us. Like I said I was the lucky child, I feel it was because I avoided being home as much as possible, that I was super social and had an escape. I feel my father despised me because I was so rebellious, because even as scared as I was, I was the mean child, I was blunt and outspoken and was the one that made him feel that if he pushed too far I would reveal him for the monster that he was. Little did he know that as adults, his dirty little secrets would come to light and he would be sent away to pay for his wrong doings in a prison cell for 22 years, but not before the irreversible damage was already placed upon the children he helped to create. Until the day that the nightmare ended, I was angry, bitter, spiteful, holding so much resent and hate for everything that ever happened that we could never speak of.
As an adult, my love life tends to be shit. I tend to give all of myself to get minimal in return until I break and do something drastic losing all that I work for and on for multiple years because in actuality my relationships are usually pretty significant, lasting for half a decade or more. The fact still remains though that for some reason I am never enough, and in the end when they no longer need me they leave me, or I stand beside them, together in their times of need to just be left or insignificant anytime I emotionally need them to just show that they care, that I matter, that I can count on them in the same way they without a doubt was able to count on me. My compassion is a great weakness, leaving me lost and broken more times than I ever thought would be possible.
I try so hard to be everything I know I can be. I try so hard to not allow my past define me to make me less than I am, to hold me back. It just seems like Everytime I start to thrive and be prosperous my feet are knocked out from under me and I am stuck back down in that hole digging my way back out. So I guess that is who I am. I am a fighter. Knowing that giving up will never be am option. Knowing that I have a purpose, even if it means giving all of myself to make sure I don’t bury another person that means something to me. I’m a lover, if I love you I will always love and care about you. So, I suppose I am complex, made up of a bunch of different things and a bunch of raw emotions making me eccentric, unlike anyone you will ever meet in your life. For those of you who walk out of my life, I can promise you one thing, you will never forget me, if I was in your life I have impacted it in ways you never thought possible.
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