The Root of My Hurt

It all started when I was about 4 years old. This man came into my life. Meant to complete that picture of a traditional family. Be the figure to love me and guide me into building my personal foundation. Lovingly teach me about men and masculinity. Supposedly be the father I never really had…

Instead he chose to show his love and fulfill the fatherly role differently. From a dark place inside himself whether nature or nurture, he made a decision to feed his angry needs. Feeding on a little girl that was me. Depriving me of the positive, loving and constructive fuel that I needed for my base. The base that would be the core from where I could build on and fall back on whenever I faced hardships.

He chose to use my body, mind and soul for nearly a decade. He had his own way of tucking me in at night. As a bedtime story he would tell me how much he loved me, appreciated me and needed me. He would ask if I loved him too… Young as I was I thought this just had to be the way it works. Cause he was “daddy”, the loving father. Deep down I felt there was something wrong. Whenever he needed to nourish his angry needs, he would make it come across as a special moment we shared, a secret just for the two of us.

At the age of 13 I no longer wanted to be part of that secret that  was hurting me and leaving me empty of all the hopes&dreams, love and strength, guidance and protection.

Although I realize it only now while writing…this was the first time I outspokenly chose ME.


I am Free

This might be the hardest thing I ever had to face. Finding the right words to describe what I feel without getting too emotional or mentioning unnecessary details. Not long ago I hinted at the life changing decision I made…well, here it is. With tears in my eyes, a heavy heart, a sense of fear but also relief I am sharing this with you.

While dealing with what happened in the past, I harbored a lot of anger and sometimes even pure rage. A lot of that anger was easy to explain. Many therapy sessions, breakdowns and a lot of self reflection helped me lose a huge part of that anger. But still some remained. Telling myself that I did not know where it came from only made it worse. I was so afraid, wanting to shield myself from another form of betrayal. One potentially bigger than my so called father put on me. It hurt so much, opening up my eyes to the pain I felt and acknowledging that it was you who still had such a hold on me.

You used to tell me you wanted a child. But at that age, in whatever situation you might have been and with all that was to come, were you ready to be my mother…?

I have made peace with the role you play in my life. I let go of all expectations. I have forgiven your disloyalty. No longer am I trying to understand the choices you made. I decide not to be affected by the people you select to have relations with, I distance myself emotionally so your words and actions won’t hurt me no more. I am my own woman now. I am beautiful from the inside and out. I have great potential and the means to exploit them. I am free.

Once again, I choose ME

 

 


The Root of my Hurt

It all started when I was about 4 years old. This man came into my life. Meant to complete that picture of a traditional family. Be the figure to love me and guide me into building my personal foundation. Lovingly teach me about men and masculinity. Supposedly be the father I never really had…

Instead he chose to show his love and fulfill the fatherly role differently. From a dark place inside himself whether nature or nurture, he made a decision to feed his angry needs. Feeding on a little girl that was me. Depriving me of the positive, loving and constructive fuel that I needed for my base. The base that would be the core from where I could build on and fall back on whenever I faced hardships.

He chose to use my body, mind and soul for nearly a decade. He had his own way of tucking me in at night. As a bedtime story he would tell me how much he loved me, appreciated me and needed me. He would ask if I loved him too… Young as I was I thought this just had to be the way it works. Cause he was “daddy”, the loving father. Deep down I felt there was something wrong. Whenever he needed to nourish his angry needs, he would make it come across as a special moment we shared, a secret just for the two of us.

At the age of 13 I no longer wanted to be part of that secret that  was hurting me and leaving me empty of all the hopes&dreams, love and strength, guidance and protection.

Although I realize it only now while writing…this was the first time I outspokenly chose ME.