The Price I Pay to be Me

Sometimes in trying to find my own way, my thoughts go down unusual roads. These ramblings are not a faulting of anyone or anything. My intent is always to be the best person I can be, but I also have to BE me.

 There are many kinds of people in the world. We can’t all be the same. This is just the journey I follow in learning to understand and accept who I am while trying to resolve issues and heal emotional wounds so I can live more wholeheartedly.

The holiday season rolls around and once more I am teary. If I get what I want for the holidays – to be alone, to not stress over what to buy or what to bring, to not have to go anywhere or be anything other than what I am in the moment – why do I still cry during the holiday season?

I thought I was beyond this. I was fine right up to yesterday, Thanksgiving Day. Am I pretty much living the life I want? So, why do I get over emotional and sad?

Times have changed. Situations changed. I’ve changed. There’s no going back, nor would I want to. So, what’s the matter with me?

I felt I had a big hole in me from which my life energy drained. I had to stop the leakage. Unfortunately, plugging the hole also blocked out family. I know, it sounds like a terrible thing to say. After all, family IS everything, and I truly, truly, truly LOVE my family. So, why do I feel this way?

I first recognized it with my mum. My mum was everything to me, my rock, my anchor, yet, I always felt I had to set up kind of barrier around me to protect myself. Not from her physically, but there was something energy-wise I felt she pulled from me. It wasn’t intentional. She wanted the best for me. It’s just there was some tie between us which grew more pronounced as she aged and struggled to hold on to life … like she was trying to live through me (as long as what I was doing met with her approval, and often she didn’t approve, which I felt.) But I loved her so much!

Then I look back further in my life, to my childhood and the feeling others always wanted something from me, something I found it hard to give, that I couldn’t give. It was like I had to give up being me to be the one they all wanted me to be: parents, sibling, relatives, teachers, peers, lovers. I had to give up me to be liked …

And I never felt I was really liked in spite of that. I was always left feeling inadequate. I was never enough. I felt I was never allowed to be the real me! Maybe I just didn’t know how, always feeling others knew better than I.

Do I suffer guilt? Hell, yes, that’s probably a good part of it! I never feel I am good enough through other people’s eyes. But I’m much better than I was! I am striving to make sure I am good enough in my eyes … until the holidays roll around or I’m missing talking to family. Then I start feeling inadequate again to their eyes.

And, what about my sons and grandchildren? I can’t even find words. I love them dearly, but to be with them, while I enjoy it immensely, something flattens me, empties me. I feel like a muddy puddle drying up around the edges. Again, I don’t feel I can be me; something holds me back.

Sometimes I don’t feel they really care about ME. But I know that’s not true! I know they love me … but I don’t know if they truly know me, or if they are disappointed in me and see me as someone who should be a better mother and grandmother. Again, my fears and inadequacies kick in.

It’s not about them. It’s about me and my issues, my fears. Sometimes, when it comes to love, I’m all messed up. Maybe I don’t really know how to love. Maybe I’ve been hurt so many times by love, I’ve given up on love … but that’s another subject.