My version of vulnerability on an unspoken subject.

Growing up I think I had numbed myself of any form of emotion. Feeling it, showing it or allowing myself to receive it.

I was lucky enough to never of been a victim to any sort of trauma, like many people in this world have endured.

My own version of acceptance of myself has a lot to do with what I was exposed to growing up. Now I do classify myself as lucky, because I still grew up in a household full of love from my mum and people around me as a support network.

My ongoing issues and the ability to accept myself, is sparked by my relationship with my father.

I don’t know a lot about my fathers upbringing, snippets of information from my mum has allowed me to have somewhat of a backstory. I also haven’t met anyone from his side of the family (properly).

He grew up in a severely religious household (exclusive brethren) and lost his father at an early age, with not a lot of acceptance from his immediate family.

There is a lot I don’t know about my father, even though he has been in and out of my life over 33 years. I also believe there is a lot he doesn’t know about himself or he chooses not to discover.

He may of loved my mum once? I don’t know. He may of liked the idea of love, or wanted to love me. But to be honest I don’t really know if he knew how or what it really means to love someone unconditionally.

I’ll spare you all the broken pieces of the puzzle in between and allow you to gain a little bit more understanding about this subject, from my perspective.

When you are an impressionable child, a little girl full of dreams, hopes and looking at your parents as your very own version of superheroes. You can be somewhat naive in placing them on a god like pedestal, no matter what their behavior. As you believe next time may be different.

It’s funny because I don’t have many positive memories of our relationship, wether I’ve chosen to shut them out or they never actually occurred, I couldn’t tell you.

I do however truly believe I was born to be his child. Full of curiosity, questioning and a level of fearlessness that only grew stronger as our relationship did not.

I remember never thinking I was good enough because of him. Wether it was the haircut I wanted and he commented on how ugly it was, the birthdays that came and went that he forgot, the ongoing waiting for him to rescue me or just show up or that he chose to raise a child not biologically his own, instead of his own flesh and blood.

I’ve felt with a lot of mixed emotions on this subject the last 10 years and I will continue to do so as he pops in and out of my life.

My anger for him has subsided, the pain he created has dissipated and frustration and feeling sorry for him continues to rise.

I one day hope he finds peace in his life and that he comes to the realization of what love means. Wether it’s love of himself or others.

I love that he left me behind in the pursuit of his own happiness, because without him I can proudly say I am the person I am today because of it. 






K X 

3 thoughts on “My version of vulnerability on an unspoken subject.

  1. Sidharth says:

    The honesty of the post really made my heart swell with emotions I’m sorry for what you & your family have been through, that’s what life is I guess. But keep your head up for every dark night is bound to be replaced by a bright day. I understand that the past was emotionally challenging but stay strong fellow blogger, thanks for sharing such an honest post that was decorated with blissful emotions. According to your convenience please do read some of my writings would love to know what you think about them 😊

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s