You never listen to people’s words - you listen to their actions. Promises mean nothing to you, neither do intentions. You learned at a very young age that it’s not the thought that counts. The “I Iove yous” and “I miss yous” and the “for better or for worse” don’t mean a thing unless they’re executed through actions: The being there. The showing up for someone. You don’t care about the, “but baby deep down you know that I love you..” No. People actually have to show you they care to win your heart.
You don’t flinch when people ask about your parents. You have memorized the script back and forth. You have dealt with trust issues for as long as you can remember. Yeah, you don’t want the cliché labels: The one with abandonment issues. The one who keeps you at a distance. The one looking to fill a void. You don’t need anyone’s sympathy. You don’t want anyone’s pity - so you will always try to keep this part of you hidden, it’s just a part of you, but a part that’s still alive and well, comfortable in its home in your bones, a tiny inkling that you need to fight every time someone tries to get close to you nevertheless.
At the same time, love scares you. When you finally start to feel safe with someone, you question it. How can you not? You’ve seen firsthand how even true love can break into a million pieces, bringing out the worst in people. How fireworks eventually combust, how commitment breaks like glass, how people promise to be there until "death do them part," for "better or for worse," but promises don’t mean a thing.
So you put up a shield you spent years crafting - it’s a strong shield, preparing you for the worst. Abandonment is your worst nightmare, because you’ve seen how no matter how much someone may love you, they can leave. And that is the most terrifying thing you have ever learned. If the one relationship you needed to work more than anything fell apart, it’s fair game for any other relationship to break. For anyone else to decide it’s not worth it. For anyone else to decide you’re not worth it.
It broke your heart to see your parents in pain. You’ve seen them in their most vulnerable states - you’ve seen the fights leaving them burned and confused, so you’ve made a promise to never let yourself be in that state. No matter how much you love someone, you’re incredibly uncomfortable letting them see your most vulnerable parts. You do it for protection.
When you do let someone in, it’s hard for you to not try to control the relationship, to not have anxiety every time they don’t respond to your calls when they’re out - “Let it go. You’re worrying for nothing” you reassure yourself. But anxiety always seems to win.
You have a big fear of the unknown. So you compensate. You’re driven, you’re unapologetic. You relish in your independence, you go after what you want - fearlessly, without caring about the approval of others. You will seem bulletproof. The people who have have experienced the most pain always do. You know you can’t control other people, but you also know that there's always a silver lining. Even the worst situation or event have a positive aspect. For you, it’s your drive and empathy.
When you do love, you love unconditionally. You will give your partner all of your love and effort as a way to keep the flame alive. You want it to last. There’s still a part of you that won’t ever stop fighting for true love, a small part, but a part you'll do anything to hang on to nevertheless.
Credit: Anna Bashkova
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I came across this post on Facebook and it brought me back all the memories of the past. All this time, all these years that I seem to be whole and happy, deep inside it still hurts and haunts me. Even until now whenever I see a complete and happy family anywhere I cannot deny that there's pain. That somehow I still hope they're together, that the story of our family was different than how it really is. I still envy all those people, especially my friends who are living under one roof with both parents and with their siblings. Why? Because I still wonder how it feels like growing up with my dad by my side, wish he wasn't a womanizer. How I wish he never hurt mom, how I wish they don't clash that much. How I wish that love could've prevailed, how I wish we were still all together. I miss those late night talks with both mom and dad just before praying and closing our eyes on how my day went, what I did in school, what my friends and I talked about. About my dreams and aspirations, my insights on random things, talk about God, about love. I was four years old when they separated. I barely have a memory of a happy childhood. What I miss the most is when we dine on the roof of the second floor (we live on the third floor of my grandparents house, in our ancestral compound). Dad prepares the dining area on the roof while mom prepares the food, as I'm much excited to get my toddler chair, pass across the window and cross that plank to the roof. Late nights and movie; dinner on the roof with the stars above us. I remember how subtle mom was, how cheerful dad was, and most of all how happy I was. I would forever love lying on the ground and just watch the stars with the bright full moon. How we pray to God every night, how they both read me bedtime stories and kiss me good night. How they constantly reassure me that they love me, from how mom prepares me to school and dad brings me to the school bus. They were both always there for me throughout my Kinder school days, in every artwork, birthday, school plays, moving-up, name all of it. I learned how to do household chores because mom teaches me, I began to love eating pasta without any sauce, quaker oats, hard boiled egg because dad eats them. I loved eating rice with salt sprinkled on it because grandma does it, and have fruits right after every meal because grandpa loves it.
I often question myself if these things really happened because it's so different from how it is now. Mom began to be grumpy even on the slightest things, and dad rarely spends quality time with me and my brother Wyeth. All I know is that one day I woke up and it was just like a fairy tale then I had to face the sad reality that we're no longer together. I had to accept the fact that they have parted ways and I had to go with mom. I remember that night when we were packing our things while dad was fast asleep, how pitiful mom looked like with all these bruises and hematoma, that red Popeye shirt with blue sleeves and purple basket with pink handle are the ones that would remind me so much of that night and my childhood summed up. I soon went to a new school and watched all these girls being fetched by their parents while giving them a huge warm huge as soon as they get to them. I was in one of those corners silently watching them as I wait for either my mom nor my dad, but never both of them. Mom is usually the one who's always present in all my school activities and dad rarely comes to participate, most of the time he doesn't show up. I'm lucky enough if he joins us on school's Family Day or whatever event. It came to a point wherein I would hear them argue over the phone because of my tuition fee, they were screaming at each other, exchanging hurtful words, cursing, raising their voices. I couldn't bear the pain, it was too much. I can't take it, I love them both unconditionally and with that self-harm became my most elaborated method of love. The bruises on my body, every scar I have is not because of some guy (to whom most would've been the cause and reason of such), it was because of them. Until now, sometimes, it still somehow eases me when the emotional pain is too much to bear, I resort to transferring it to physical pain. Maybe that's the reason why whenever I hit the ground, hurt myself for some instance, or any kind of pain that could be physically felt no longer bothers me. I became immune and numb with pain as I grew up, I've learned how to endure it.
Dad was there when I graduated grade school as well as when my brother graduated grade school three years after I did. Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be found when we graduated high school, even when we were scouting to which university we would be enrolling for in college. I wonder how my life looked like if we were still complete and happy. Could it be possible that we go on Sunday strolls after attending mass? Could me and brother be happier? Could we be full of love? Could I not be afraid of taking risks especially when it comes to love and commitment? Could we never have these trust issues? Could have we achieved more than we had? I wonder how it feels like growing up with a complete family, and I know I would never stop wondering what could have been, what might have been if things were different. I've always struggled with letting people in. I've ruined every relationship before it could even begin. I can never let myself trust because I am always preparing for the inevitable goodbye. I hate crying in front of people. I don't always share my concerns or problems to anyone because I don't want them to know that I am hurt, and for me, being hurt has always been the equivalent of being weak . I'm not asking for anyone's attention, I don't want anyone to pity me. I want to talk about what happened and why am I like this, somehow I've found a way on how to tell the story without reopening the wounds it caused. I often stare blankly into space while my heart is breaking into pieces, I'm done crying. Or at least, I think I am; my heart has scars that would never seem to heal. I'm scared of being vulnerable. Most nights I spend asking myself, "Was I never an enough reason for you to change and stay dad? Was I never an enough reason for you to love mom? Was I never an enough reason for you to give up being a womanizer and hitting mom, as well as hating your parents? Dad, was I never enough for you to believe in God and in love?".
When I was a child you used to watched and read these Disney Princesses with me; I grew up not being one of them but one of those evil Queens which you told me back then were bad and have nothing good to offer. Now I understand them, they lack love as much as I do. They fear abandonment as much as I do. They are not really bad, they are lost, abandoned, and forgotten just as I am. Why do I always get hurt? Was I meant to feel pain all my life? I was a mistake wasn't I? Because I remember how the two of you would tell me a story that if mom didn't get pregnant then you two wouldn't have gotten married. Then maybe you two at some point decided to break up, could things have been better if I didn't came into the picture? Could your lives have been great by then? Because 'til now I honestly blame myself for all these, maybe I'm the reason why it all happened. I blame myself for having an incomplete family, for trust issues, for being the black sheep, for dad not staying with us, for mom getting hurt, for my brother growing up without a dad, for my youngest brother to not have a father figure. I see myself as a burden and no matter how much I try to change it, I can't. I always end up being a humiliation, a failure which is why I want the pain to stop. No one knows but me, I've been trying to end the pain by taking my own life. When I was six or so, as I was sharpening my crayons (because I like the pointy edge), I remember people in our house telling me to be extra careful with crayons.That I should dispose the trash immediately and not play with it, don't stick it in my mouth because it's dangerous if I get to swallow it. Instead, I gathered it and tried swallowing half hoping it would take effect but it didn't. I tried drinking detergent soap (powdered) and mixed it with water, as well as the bleaching liquid for clothes. Even the cologne, perfume, and insecticide. It all didn't take effect. I tried sleeping with a plastic bag covering my face, holding my breath, strangling myself with a rope or whatever could be used as a substitute. I never succeeded. I resorted to cutting myself, not only on my wrists but to whichever part of my body, oftentimes the nape so no one would notice. The closest I got was when I overdosed myself from fifty pieces of aspirin, I saw how you both looked at me full of hurt and pain. No words were uttered but our hearts and mind speak to each other. I wanted you to know it was not mainly about him but about my hunger and thirst for love from the both of you.
You often accuse me of being too much of an attention seeker because you gave me everything you could but you went pass the fact that I'm not asking for material things, I was asking for your love. All these years since you drifted apart, you may not admit nor notice until now that you have abandoned me. Mom you went seeking time for your friends while I was at home wanting to talk to you about random things, whenever I open up there was never a time that you listened intently, it was either you were busy on your phone or had some other things on your mind. Dad you went far, you were nearly out of reach when you had your "own life" without us in it, and you took time making up for all the time you lost with Wyeth but where was I there? I know I'm old enough and I should've gotten over these issues a long time ago, and should not be crying on a spilled milk. You only have these words to say and you keep comparing me to other children whose situations are lot worse than mine, you keep comparing me and telling me that I should let of these things. But you wouldn't know how much it hurts like hell, how much it tears me up, how much it's killing me since time immemorial. You wouldn't know because you were fortunate to have both belong to a complete family. You wouldn't understand how important it is to me that we're complete on every birthday of mine. You wouldn't know these things because I choose not to tell you. But the bottom line is, I'm not seeking for someone because all I ever want is my family's love even though we're now right here to where circumstances lead us. I love you mommy, daddy, Wyeth, and Walden.
(APRIL 2016)
