I’ve finally done it. I stood up to my greatest bully of all. As innocent as she will cry to be, I do not apologize for my actions. I got angry.
I grew up in an emotionally unstable house. Most of us do because before the internet parents just had a “learn as you go” parenting method. I don’t blame my parents, and I have no grudges towards them, but with knowledge comes understanding and freedom.
My life was not perfect. Many people assumed the best of my family because we are genuinely good people. But behind closed doors, our behavior did not match how we treated strangers. There was a gap between how we were perceived to how we treated each other.
I remember explosive screaming behavior my whole childhood. My mother would bottle up the small irritating things my father would do as he would stay silent about whatever was bothering him. Then over what seemed like the smallest incidence, an eruption would occur of anger between them. The house would be divided, and silence would fill the air.
These were the dark secrets I held onto. I am not great at managing my emotions. I am a VERY and I mean VERY emotional person. My least favorite emotion is uncontrolled anger. I would rather let someone walk all over me then confront them if I think talking to them would bring explosive rage. I’m not saying it is the right way to live. I’m just saying I am guilty of doing this.
The difference this time for my volcanic eruption is that I’m not sorry for it. I don’t feel wrong about what I did or even for what I said. I’ve sat quietly in the background and took on other people’s emotions instead of standing up for myself long enough.
I was screaming, but the person refused to listen to me (literally put music on). I was loud because the person stopped seeing me, so I wanted them to hear that I am here. I literally fell to my knees in the fetal position and cried, but they didn’t see me because they wouldn’t open their door. They gave me an empty threat of means things they could say to me, but when I asked them to share they refused to acknowledge me.
I can’t read minds. I am trying to heal and become the master of my own mind. I am giving of myself in ways that feel energizing and truly living my best life, but they don’t know about it. They know nothing about me because even though we live in the same place, they have no time for me. I try to ask about their day, I get short answers with a quick dash to their bedroom. They have no interest in me; I still don’t understand why.
Our parents try to make it better by telling me to wait until things get better for them. Things will change when their circumstances are better. Unfortunately, I don’t accept abusive behaviors from people even if they are my family members or going through rough times. My life doesn’t cater to other people’s needs because it is an inconvenience to them that I clean up and organize our shared living space.
I do my best to live the way I want to be treated. I shut down misogynistic comments, I cry with people who have lost loved ones, and I buy birthday presents for neighbors. I try to spread joy everywhere I go because I am truly filled with so much of it I feel like I could explode. And then I come home to someone ungrateful, disrespectful, self-absorbed, and rude to me.
I am only human. I will not take shit from anyone. If you’re not my dog, I’m not picking up and carrying your shit. That is my standard for how any human treats me.
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