I'm coming to terms with some memories from my childhood. There are people who would say the best route to resolution is "forgive and forget", but for now I'm just working on admitting that I've been hurt. I may never come to forgive those who helped create my worst memories, but I'm okay with that.
I remember when I was 11, and I went to live with my aunt for what would come to be 4 years. My mother came to visit shortly after I had moved in, and I was so excited to see her. She arrived, and as an 11 year old who felt incredibly displaced, all I wanted to do was be near her. Even if I wasn't part of the conversation, just to be in the same room, sitting nearby, was a great comfort at the time.
Unfortunately this feeling was short-lived, on account of my cousin's need of a playmate. She must have been about 6 at the time, a great age difference to an 11 year old. Needless to say, the last thing I wanted to do was play "dress-up" or "Barbie" that afternoon. Said cousin was less than pleased with my lack of interest in playing that day, and in being true to form, went to her mother to have the situation straightened out. My aunt insisted that I play with my cousin. I had learned early-on in my transition, that any resistance to my aunt's wishes was reason for an "attitude adjustment" so I reluctantly went to the basement play-room with a very contented cousin.
I didn't see much of my mother that day.
I haven't thought of this day in quite some time, but the other morning I woke up and it was the first thing on my mind. I remembered it so clearly, and the familiar feelings of resignation flooded me. I laid in bed and cried that morning like I haven't in a very long time. It felt so good, but so very draining at the same time. At that moment, it was perfect.
I don't really know why I posted this. I guess it's been on my mind all week, and I needed to get it out. Maybe I just needed to put it out there to say, "I can be hurt and survive." I don't know what the reason, but it feels good.
Rhymin' Wreckers - What if cakes were the last lines in really bad poems? Come, my friends. LET US DREAM TOGETHER. *Work anniversary Head of the class A lousy coffee c...