Lately I've been trying to figure out what is my purpose.
My true, honest to God lifetime purpose. Is there even such a thing? Something
to make me stop wanting more for myself.
Growing up I always wrote in journals
to deal with emotions. I would release it all on a piece of paper. Trying to
get rid of that energy tearing my insides apart. I had too. It was the only way
I could hide the fucked up mental hell I was experiencing.
As a young girl I
didn't think anyone would understand and would think I was nuts. That's what
people did back then, hide things. I felt lost. I felt alone. I felt worthless.
I couldn't understand why I was so unhappy all the time. Especially during
times when nothing traumatic was even happening. I remember talking to myself
in the mirror pulling out my hair, telling myself no one loves me and just
hating myself for even being born. I think I was 7 years old!
Because of that I
tell my babies I love them every chance I get. I want to make sure they know
and always feel loved. Just in case there is a hint of doubt in their little
growing minds they feel nothing but love from their mother. God has given me
two babies to show me I can still have good in my life and I can still have happiness. Even on my
darkest of of days.
Yes there are times I'll have a strong sense of shame. I
guess you can call that years of learned behavior.
What occurred to me is I probably don't have
one purpose. My purpose is to bring awareness. My purpose is to be a mother. My
purpose is to teach ME selfless love does exist in this fucked up world. My
purpose is to show the next young lady everything she's feeling is normal after
being violated. There is absolutely nothing wrong with feeling anger, confusion
or even being silenced by the same people who should have protected me. My purpose is to tell my story.
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