We are all a little bit of a rollercoaster during our life.
We all have baggage.
But I’ll show you mine if you show me yours
Many things I do is to spite my families ways; And one of their many common ways, is the poker face. A classis narcissist trait.
My family may not have physical beat me, but they may as well have.
To this day they think they have done nothing wrong, and the narcissist gene runs so deep that every single one of them still doesn’t own up to a single hurtful thing they do or have done. The closest thing to an apology I have ever heard was ‘sorry not sorry’
When I was in grade 9, I wasn’t aloud to watch Passion Of The Christ because it was thought to damage me mentally.
I wasn’t aloud to watch Juno, because it was thought that it would make me want to go get pregnant
I was told to make sure I told strangers, like doctors for example, that I had a boyfriend so that they knew I was straight and I would receive optimum care.
I was told that so-and-so doesn’t look like very good company, they do not shower enough. That there mom looks gross. That there was a rumor about their sister.
I was told that I am woman or soon to be one, and that I should be able to handle wounds and blood. That I was weak and dramatic. I had sliced my finger down the middle and through my nail using a mandolin and nearly fainted seeing all the blood, so I was humiliated by my parents.
I was told that maybe I should buy some grapefruit to fill out my bra a little better.
That I was just waiting in line with the other growing girls waiting to become pretty.
That I needed to exercise more because I was too pudgy.
I wasn’t a loud to go walk it off when there was a fight and I need to cool down on my own wanted to sit at the park. The one time I did anyway, the police were contacted.
When there was ever a discussion about self harm I was told it was just dramatics looking for attention by someone who thinks they are a ‘done-wrong princess’
When I wanted hug I was told ‘what, I’m not gonna stand here all day’
I had a hard time having friends, because whenever I did have a friend my parents found some obscure reason not to like them, or they would act so obtuse when my friend was around that they didn’t want to come over any more.
There’s so, so many more, worse ones to recall, but why should I, I’m here now, in a much better place.
Turns out looking back on it, my parents where just always trying to keep the spotlight off themselves.
Anyone else out there with an adventurous childhood like mine?