I was never a loud crier, I didn't ever make much drama or threw tantrums. I was always way too shy for that.
I would just go to my room and cry in silence, hold the tears until it was time to go to bed or lock myself in the bathroom, but not for long because my mother would go and ask if I was ok. There was no privacy in my house, all doors had to be always open, and she was always listening through the corners, standing in silence, waiting to open your door and find you doing something, anything that would make her upset or angry at you.
A closed-door meant something bad was happening, the only times she closed hers, was when we got into such a fight that she "couldn't take it anymore" and then I would have to go and apologize because well, she was always right.
I still remember being so scared of confronting her that I would write letters, which she would read back to me aloud pointing out all the orthographical mistakes I had made, all the wrong "s,c or z", all the lack of accentuation marks, the lack of "h" or the extra ones, the commas and periods I didn't put. She made me feel extremely embarrassed of myself, and I could never stop her, I still can't.
And of course, no emotions were addressed. No talk followed up my letters but a display of shame.
I got better at confronting her afterward, especially during the teenage years, little did I know that she can never be wrong and if she gets close to that, "I am the monster now" she would say looking to the side and not talking to you for a week. Only the necessary, which she would say my father did that to her all the time... As I see it now, I am sure it was her.
Though my father is no saint either if anything, he only contributed to my pains, my lack of self-worth, of identity, of courage.
But that is another story, and I am having trouble focusing again.
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Sometimes I see people who have known and followed their dreams and I feel like a failure because I don't even know what my dreams are. But then, I see their pictures with their parents, how they seem flawed but loving, and I ask the air why.
I have nothing to wish anymore, not even if my mother was healed things could be better, what is done is done, my pains, my traumas, are all in me and unless I was born again, total reset, I will have to continue to deal with them.
Sure, probably with a healed mother, it would be easier, but I need to take the matters into my hands, and that is what I have been doing for a long time.
This is a messy process, this is me drowning, this is me lost, this is me wanting to give up and trying to find something to give me joy.
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"I feel miserable, he rejected me again". Water clouded my eyes as I formulated the next sentence, "I am just repeating my relationship with my mother, though with my partner. It is as toxic, I am avoiding everything by playing the game of being sufficient and ok with things when I am not. But this time I don't have the teenage rage to confront them. I know they are not my mother, they are different, they are working on their issues, but it has been a long time and he is still constantly rejecting me".
Jana frowned in empathy. "I am still struggling to know if I should break up with them or not if it would be better to start over on my own. I searched for options and things are possible, but I am lonely, and I know you are already aware of all of this. I am scared"
And then she said, "maybe, you could make a list of how much you invest and receive in your relationship, that may help you be more clear on what your relationship really looks like".
That woman is a saint... though, it is her job after all.