Say that you love me.

When I was a child, I was told that I am not worth the breathing air that keeps filling my lungs. When I was a teenager, I was told that I am a waste of skin. When I was an adult, I was told that I was selfish.

Why? Because I am my father’s child, a father who left his sick wife to fight for a better life for himself. Because I defended myself, and because I wanted to build a life for myself without having to care for anyone else.

The hostility I experienced as a child and young adult still weigh heavily on me. I was neglected and abandoned; at the same time, I was emotionally blackmailed into doing things I didn’t want to do for a sliver of affection. Everything I ever did was negatively criticized and belittled.

It turned me into a starving adult—a doubting person. And I don’t trust. I don’t trust that love is free, that people like me just for me. I wasn’t taught that I don’t need to bend backwards to be liked. And I also wasn’t taught that it is okay not to be liked.

The better part of my adult life, I was a people pleaser. I said yes when I wanted to say no. I did things I didn’t want to do, and I never had the guts to stand up for myself.

It took a lot of work, and I am still not there every day of the week, but I am learning to say no and accept that some people will not like it. I am learning to like myself (my needs, and wants, and wishes) first – even if that means that others need to wait. And I am learning that I have to stand up for myself because no one else ever will…

Am I loveable? Yes I am.

Am I beautiful? I have my moments – even being chubby and overweight.

I am unique – everyone is. I am me.

The older I get (and I am only thirty-seven), the easier it is to say ‘fuck them all’ I am living my own life, the way I want to live it. But… It is hard for someone who is riddled with self-doubt and low self-esteem.

Last night, I was looking at the fading self-harm scars on my arm. I am not sure if they are apparent and visible for people or if I see them because I know they are there. Feeling them with the fingertips of my right hand, I remembered reasons, moods, and triggers. And I wanted to hug the young woman who never learned how to deal with emotional pain. I want to tell her to be free and disregard others. I want to tell her to live her life, without fear of not being loved. Everything will be okay.

But… No matter how much I change and how much I open up I will always stay a guarded and abused child. I was spoiled for anyone trying to love me…

Author: Catherine

37. Unquiet mind. Writer with a deeply rooted love for music. Likes reading in the bathtub. Heartbreaker. Perfectly imperfect mother of 3. Published poet.

4 thoughts on “Say that you love me.”

    1. I am not sure if I resent the people who raised me; I think I resent what they did to me. Most days, I am completely okay. But some days, something triggers a memory and I see myself doing things not child should have to do. Today, kids are taken out of families for the same stuff, but having grown up in a small village, it was easier to turn a blind eye. Appearances were all that mattered.

      Like

share a thought

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.