I’ve wanted to be part of the blogging world for a number of years. So many times, I’d start a blog, post a few things, then just walk away and forget about it. I never could figure out why I have this failure to commit to something that I really wanted to do.
I think I figured it out.
I don’t feel like my ideas, my feelings, my views are valid.
Growing up, my feelings were constantly invalidated. If what I was feeling wasn’t what my mother wanted to see, I wasn’t allowed to feel it. I couldn’t be upset, I couldn’t be mad. heavens forbid if I had an attitude. Shit really would hit the fan then. So I grew up with the idea that the things I feel never were allowed. I felt that what I felt, unless it pleased those around me, was wrong.
Now, I know I am no longer that little girl living under the tyrannical rule of my bitch of a mother. I’m a grown ass woman. But let me tell you, it is hard to shake those beliefs. The foundation that was laid by my mother’s mental abuse is the only thing I’ve had to build my adult life on. Not because I wanted, but because I just didn’t know any other way.
I can see now how much this is hindering me. It’s forever been a black cloud on my creative horizons. Every time I would want to commit to something, I’d talk myself out of it because I didn’t think it was allowed. Even though I’ve been away from my mother for years, I was still holding myself to her standards. I was crippling myself because that’s what I thought had to be done.
I am done with that shit, guys.
I’m at the cusp of 30. I’m wasting time. I seriously don’t have forever. If I continue to refuse to let myself do things I enjoy or reject the feelings I have because they aren’t appropriate, I’m cheating myself out of time. Night will fall eventually. I will have no one to blame if my last breaths are filled with “I wish I had…”s.
More than me, I have kids to worry about now. I will not put this on them. My struggle will not be theirs. I don’t want them learning these behaviors from me. I will not continue this circle of mental abuse. It all stops here.
So, my bitch of a mother might have laid the foundation for me to have these issues. But darling, I am about to tear up the floor.