To be straight, we can’t help how we feel. When we feel something albeit it physical or mental – we are feeling it.
Growing up both my parents didn’t respect that, if I felt something it was almost like a competition, what I felt wasn’t as bad as it could be or It wasn’t as bad as how they felt.
I cried a lot as a kid and I was ashamed of it. I saw it as a negative thing brought on by my parents. Don’t be a “wuss”, “don’t start the waterworks”. Stuff like that.
It made me feel like what I felt wasn’t important, I didn’t have a reason to be upset, what I felt wasn’t justified, I could go on.
I felt so shit for so long, I guess I tried to back myself down when I felt bad because I felt like I shouldn’t feel bad, not because I didn’t have a reason because I did but because I felt I just shouldn’t feel bad, I should be a “man” like my dad – emotionless, cold and angry.
I didn’t have a voice as a child and I was never able to voice my thoughts or feelings. That has an effect which lasts to today. a fucking horrible effect, “should I say something”, “will I be a bad person if I said this”, “I don’t know how to bring this up/confront this” thoughts like this because I never had a voice.
My thoughts were invalid, and I wasn’t allowed my voice.
Not having a voice. My dad was never close to his parents and his reasoning is that they just didn’t. My mum had a lot of love from my grandparents and I can see that, however being the middle child she has mentioned that she felt a little left out. I can see that in her.
She never had a voice as a kid, nor did my dad. Now, they use their voice to express their power (normal much, I have no fucking clue) but they use it to compete with one another.
A calm childhood of mine? No, absolutely fucking not. Plates thrown and smashed out of anger, cuss words sworn all the time, arguments galore. Any care for me? No.
I do remember one time, they were arguing a lot, and it was scary, very scary one evening. I tried to get myself involved to calm them down because they needed to, I lived there too and it was fucking horrid, yet I didn’t know any better. I cannot express how fucking hard, and horrible it was yet internal I couldn’t use my voice (voice see..) to tell anyone.
Because they were so loud, there wasn’t enough frequency for a small voice. They never left room for me.
My voice didn’t matter and it doesn’t know.
They get to choose what fucking happens. “Just talk to Emma”, “it isn’t fair on her, her life will be fucking ruined”
FUCK OFF, I am going through hell and you are allowing the fault.