Several years ago, I invited my father to spend time with me twice, but he declined. A few months later, I logged onto Facebook to discover that he had posted a picture with all of his other children, along with a status conveying how much they meant to him. Two of my siblings could not wait to antagonize my social existence with it subtly. For months, I cried. No one understood the pain, and in the end, I concealed my emotions.
I watched him celebrate with his other girls. He made sure that I witnessed each milestone his girls achieved, whether it be graduations, birthdays, or any other milestone. Once again, I swallowed the hurt because my response to being broken was always misinterpreted as something else. Consequently, I have lived a life where I had to assume the villain role. They would degrade my very existence and expect silence to their abuse. One of my sisters used this to her advantage a great deal. As a skilled manipulator, she knew how to create a narrative emphasizing my responses and not the constant taunting. Grace was never extended to me.
My dad fell sick, and I showed up. As I stood over him in the hospital, my mind rehearsed one of the phrases I’ll never forget; my father saying he hated me.
His child…
The urge to walk away from his hospital bed was strong, but I resisted because I had no idea whether it would be the last time I’d see him alive. My inner child was furious with me… However, I fought against the trauma response. My position remained unchanged… I wiped my tears and continued to silently pray. I did not run.
I sobbed for days, huddled in my closet, in the shower. However, in front of others, I was chin up. This has always been the expectation, and I have always been expected to accept things that I was not particularly comfortable with.
As he became more aware of his environment, I stopped visiting him because I could see in his eyes that it was not me he wanted to see but rather his other children (who did not visit as often as I did). After much consideration, I decided that I would no longer put myself through such mental and emotional hardship.
I chose me.
The same is true for my mother. She can be anywhere, but whenever I have asked her to spend time with me (I offered to pay… obviously), she has always had an excuse. When I lived in Columbia, she could not drive on the highway to see me, but this same highway was drivable when it was party time. To persuade her to spend time, I offered her gas, food etc, but it is always a reason, an excuse for her absence. The most we talk is on social media.
I’ve accepted that their absence is a void that only God can fill.
As a result of being in spaces where I felt less than unwanted, I shower those in my life with love because I want to leave here knowing that I have given love, even if it is more than I will ever receive.
To ensure that my children never feel like they do not matter, I go to such lengths for them. My goal is to prevent them from searching for love in all the wrong places, as I did. They’re loved, seen, and heard. I pursue healing for them. They deserve that.
My daily toil is discovering strength and overcoming experiences that could keep me stuck; if permitted. As I sit here today, I am exhausted, but I refuse to surrender.
My time in the ring will come to an end one day.
The day I hear my Father in heaven say well done will make up for all the pain I have experienced here on earth.
Until then,
I AM ENOUGH ♥️
I AM WORTHY 🌻
I AM DEEPLY LOVED. ✝️
Isaiah 40:31 ~ But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.
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