Imagine throughout your entire developmental years, you were told how you felt. You were told that you only hold on to the negative, that you were spoiled rotten, that you were an all-around horrible person. Consciously, you knew these words were hurtful, mean, and untrue, but after hearing it for years, your subconscious latched onto them.
You’re lazy, you’re fat, you’re fucked up. That’s who your parents told you were, and you never said anything because the words were less painful than the physical abuse, at least at the time. Even your siblings were in on it, telling you that you deserved this type of punishment and torture, that you were in fact a horrible person. And your mom feigned ignorance.
Your mom would linger in the background, pretending to sweep the floor while your father hit you across the face and reamed you for hours on end. Afterwards, he’d force you to reiterate the punishment you deserved to family members. Your mom played stupid, like she didn’t know what was going on. She left you alone with your father, the one she later would speak so ill about.
You remember the time your dad forced you to say you were fucked up at 10-years-old. You looked for your mom to say something, and she looked away. So, with tears in your eyes, you said, “I’m fucked up.” You remember when your Grandpa came to visit, you hung around him, hoping that he would protect you from the abuse of your father, but in turn, he said nothing also.
You were crying for help, talking to strangers online, and avoiding others in real life for anyone in real life could plainly see how fucked up your life was. You hid it all because your parents told you to. They got a divorce and dragged you in the middle. They thought just because they gave you food and shelter that that was all it took to parent.
Your parents coerced you, used your identity, and abused your soul. They made you believe that their mistakes were your fault, and you believed it because you thought they had your best interest in mind when in fact, you disassociated from yourself this entire time and all the emotions and events you didn’t process flood back.
Then, you look to your side and find your new family. You find people to care about you and accept you. You deserve to be loved. You deserve to be treated with respect. You’re beautiful, smart, and kind. Just because the ones you grew up with weren’t, doesn’t mean you have to follow in their miserable footsteps. But you feel as though you’re unworthy.
You urge back your self loathing. You say that you don’t hate your biological parents, but it still hurts. It hurts that you’ve hurting for so long and no one helped you, and that you weren’t able to help yourself. A piercing pain shows the truth about your life. You’re embarrassed and ashamed. All you wanted was to be normal and loved, and now that you finally have it you don’t know what to do.
The illness of depression spreads. Despite every silver lining, the storm thickens. You want to find your way out. You want to be happy. You don’t want to suffer anymore. When will it end? You ask whoever’s listening. You take a deep breath through your negative spiraling and let it go because that’s the only option you have left. Let it go. Holding on is only hurting you more.