Wednesday, January 11, 2017

The People You Love The Most Hurts You The Most

January 11th, 2017

After a long time of dealing with certain things and keeping all your emotions about it tucked inside and hidden away, it takes its toll on you and you just can't handle it anymore. There are many things like that; insecurity, anxiety, bullying, addictions, abusive relationships, etc. There are just those things that everyone had, has, or will have in their life, and it's more than likely that there will be multiple of those things in the different stages of your life. The biggest one for me right now is the words that my parents say to me.

I love my parents, I really do. They have sacrificed so much time and money and everything for me. They have shown me so much love and affection over the course of my life. They are incredible people whom I love, and I know that they love me, too. But humans tend to hurt the people they love the most. Sometimes it's because they're close to those people so things slip easier, and sometimes it's for other, more personal reasons. Either way, the people you're closest to are the ones you are more likely to hurt. I find this to be true as I face the pain and difficulties of being verbally abused by my parents.

They don't mean to do it. If they knew just how much the words affected me (affect? Effect? It doesn't matter how many articles I read, it's still troubling), they would try to stop. They would encourage me to finish the things they told me to do rather than constantly calling me lazy. They would ask me not to do something again rather than calling me retarded. They would not go on and on about how they should just try again (it's a half-joking, half-serious thing). They would try to understand the things I try to tell them rather than calling me rebellious. They would not compare my accomplishments (or lack thereof) to my sister's. They would be careful. If they truly understood how much it hurts me. If they knew.

I've talked to my older sister about this. I've told her about how I feel about it and what it does to my mind, and she understands because she feels it, too. She's been subject to the hurtful words our parents utter. She knows of the pain and insecurity that comes with being judged and insulted over things that are so silly and insignificant. She knows how I feel, because she feels it, too.

Every time someone says the word "Lazy" I instinctively put on a neutral expression and try my best to not let it hurt me. They don't even have to be directing it at me, it's just one of those words I hear too often that are pointed in my direction. My dance teacher once said that she does not tolerate laziness because she works hard. I felt a little pang in my chest because I heard the word. It's almost as if I have been called lazy so much that I am beginning to believe that I am. It's like I have allowed the insulting words my parents say define me, define who I am. I am not lazy. Sure, I procrastinate, and yeah, I could do better, but that's everyone. Everyone procrastinates on something and everyone can do better. But the word has been drilled into my mind to the point of believing that not only am I lazy, but I will never not be. I have resigned myself to laziness. I have resigned myself to the words my parents say when they are disappointed in me.

It's not just that though. That was just one example. I have allowed myself to be believe that I am so many things simply because I suck at consistently washing the dishes. I am not. I  know I am not. I am capable and I am hard working when I am motivated, but it's hard to believe that I am when I hear so often that I am not.

It's just frustration and irritation that causes them to say such things. It's just the annoyance that they tell me to do something and I don't always do it. It's just them trying to get me to do things. It's just them expressing. But it hurts. It's hurts horribly so. I know they love me, but I feel like they acknowledge the things I don't do more than the things I do. I feel like they acknowledge how much I disappoint them more than how much they love me.

It's taken its toll on me. I'm tired of hurting and getting scared every time I hear my dad's truck when I haven't finished everything I'm suppose to do. I'm tired of trying not to cry every time one of them goes off. I'm tired of simply sitting back and letting myself get insulted constantly everyday.

Constantly, constantly, constantly.

But how do you tell your parents that they're hurting you?

That's exactly what I asked my youth pastor earlier today at church. Which is funny, because she actually preached on not letting the world define you. I think that was a God thing. Anyway, I asked her how I should go about talking to them. I asked her how I can get them to understand. I've been thinking about approaching them and talking to them about, but that's freaking scary. How on Earth are you suppose to tell your parents that without them telling me things like, "Well, you should do a better job." or "Then don't give us a reason to." How are you suppose to make them understand that they are doing something wrong?

I've always had a close relationship with my dad, but I can feel myself distancing myself from him as the insults continue. I can feel myself growing bitter. I can the contempt I am beginning to have for him. He doesn't know he's hurting me. It baffles me how someone can say such things and think that everything is okay. Because it's not. You can't say those things and expect everything to be fine. It's never fine. It hurts and influences. Even more so I've grown hatred for myself, because I have caught on to those hurtful words. I catch myself insulting my younger sister all the time. I call her brainless and dumb and stupid and idiotic, and I hate myself for it because I should know how much it hurts. Then that only fuels my bitterness towards my parents.

I don't want to feel that way. I love them. I love them so much, but I just don't know how to deal with this anymore. I've gotten to the point where I'm lashing out and crying in the shower because it I can't handle it. I've bottled it up for too long. It's violently coming out. It became clear to me that I need to talk to my parents when my older sister and I were talking about it. Something needs to be done. They need to know. So I asked my youth pastor and told her about it.

She said that I really do need to talk to them. A rift is forming in my relationship with my parents, and it's only going to get worse if I don't do something about it. She said that I need to pray, first and foremost. Pray a lot. Pray that God will give me the strength and courage to approach them and that He will give my parents an understanding of what I need to tell them. When I talk to them (she told me this part while using a conversation she had a have with her family at one point as an example, I have to tell them to listen to me without interruption, to not already have an answer thought of and really consider what I'm saying. I need to ask them to really listen and let me get it all out before answering, that way I will be able to have a serious, mature discussion with them. It is going to be hard and I'm going to waver, but God will give me strength. This is something I have to do.

I love my parents, and they love me. Not only do they need to know that they are hurting me, but they will want to know. It's pretty freaking scary, but I know God will give me the right words to say and my parents will at least try to understand.

P.S I'll blog about the talk afterwards

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