I love you Elizabeth. I love you Liz. I love you Lisa.
When I was young, I don’t think I ever heard my parents tell me to love myself. Nor did any other adult. Instead, I heard reasons as to why I was loved. They loved me because I did well on something or because I behaved and listened. They loved me because I was their daughter. I was also told reasons why I wasn’t loved: I wasn’t skinny enough; I wasn’t athletic enough; I wasn’t pretty enough; I was too dark; I was too fat; I had a big smile that showed my gums; I wasn’t popular enough; I didn’t look as pretty as my sister; my hips were too big; my butt was too small. I think I heard more negatives growing up than positives. I know people mean well…or I want to believe people mean well. But coming from my own family, it hurt. My parents are my rock, my foundation; they have always been there when I needed them the most, cheering me on or picking me up after I’ve been hurt. Everything I’ve learned, I have learned from watching them. Not everything has been happy, and I’ve experienced a lot of pain. Watching my mom cry when she was disappointed and watching her feel worthless at times because someone she loved hurt her…that tore me up inside. I felt helpless because I couldn’t make her feel better. But at the same time, I would try to understand the other person, and I wanted to forgive them for hurting my mom, for hurting us. Because of these experiences, I learned not to be so trusting. I told myself that people who love you will hurt you, and you have to be ready for the worst. I grew up with this, and continuously validated this mindset because everyone I loved continued to hurt me. Each time I built up emotional wall after emotional wall. I look back at my childhood, at all of my experiences, and I am so tired of having to continue to protect myself from pain. I’m always trying to protect myself, and yet, I keep hurting myself. All of my walls keep me from freely giving and receiving love, even giving myself love. I need to realize my self worth; I am worth a lot. It doesn’t matter what I look like, how many talents I have or don’t have, I am who God made me, and I am unique. I am tired of comparing myself to everything out there defined as beautiful. Growing up I was always compared to my sister; my sister is gorgeous, and I believe that with all of my heart. She is a beautiful person inside and out, and the sad thing is, she doesn’t realize her own self worth either. She has so much to offer, but she doesn’t see it. I don’t know why we are so hard on ourselves; I don’t know why we live our lives worried about what others think of us or measure it by having a man next to us. I don’t know why we let fear and guilt lead us.
Going back to being compared to my sister – she has always been more athletic, more creative, more talented, more social, prettier, fearless, she accessorizes and follows the latest trends. I am the complete opposite. I am not as athletic, my body is not as pretty or as thin or toned, my face is different in structure (I look more like my dad and she looks more like my mom); I am not as creative or as talented, and I am more of a plain Jane. I mentioned how I always saw her as fearless, but I think we are both fearless on different levels. She was more “atrevida” growing up; she taught herself how to do a split, cartwheel, rollerblade, roller skate, ice skate, swim, dance, etc. She didn’t tell herself she couldn’t do something, and once her mind was made up, she’d go after it. I was different. I only did what I was told I could do. My mom instilled fear in me: “you might get hurt if you do that Lisa”, “no you can’t do that”, “I told you so”. I know my mom had my best interest in mind, she was afraid of letting me fall and get hurt; she was trying to do what was best for me in everything. She didn’t realize that she was instilling fear in me. Because of this fear, I was scared of doing a cartwheel, trying to master a split, falling as I tried to skate and not getting up to try again, falling in love…because sooner or later, I was going to get hurt or be hurt. I told myself I didn’t have enough rhythm to dance; I told myself I couldn’t do so many things and didn’t try.
I remember being in middle school and wanting to join the track team, after all, it was just running. I remember being in PE and jumping over hurdles, I was good! After that, I wanted to be in track, I wanted to jump hurdles. I went home to tell my mom, but she told me I couldn’t join because it was afterschool and she wasn’t going to pick me up. She also added, “why do you want to be in track, what if you’re not fast enough or you fall jumping over those hurdles?” I was so upset because I found something I was good at, and I couldn’t do it. Years later, I tell my mom about this, and she tells me, “you should’ve been more like your sister and you should have insisted and just done it”. I laugh because now they wonder why I am so stubborn and hardheaded with them. I fought her on going away for college, 8 hours away at that! I knew then that they were not going to take that away from me. She threatened that she would not call me or help me if I left, and I told her then she would just have to do what she had to do, but I was leaving. I don’t think I had ever rebelled in my life like I did my senior year, and there was no stopping my rebelling after that (an adult yet still a child all at once). And because of it, I think I’ve been stuck…an adult still a child. Still fearful of life and the unknown and afraid of failing. I was suppose to have my Masters degree by now, but I didn’t continue because I was scared. I was supposed to be a licensed social worker by now working in a school district, but I didn’t take the exam because I was afraid of not passing. I continue to self sabotage because in my mind, what happens if I fail?
I look back at my failed marriage now and realize that I didn’t give my all in so many ways. I loved him, and I was always there for him, but at the same time, there was still a shield around my heart. I didn’t let him completely in even though I thought I had. We married, we exchanged vows, we had the house, the life, the cars, we had a beautiful child together, so I couldn’t see why he thought I didn’t love him. I know now. I never trusted him enough to rely or depend on him first. I never trusted that he loved me enough to take care of me. I can sit here and list so many reasons as to why I felt this way, I can sit here and blame him all day long, but I’m not going to do that because I have to be responsible for any role I played. He was my husband, I vowed to love and trust and share, and although he did not hold to his vows, I didn’t either. I have done this all my life; I haven’t trusted in people. I am always watching for anything that might hurt me in the least. That’s no way for me to continue to live life. I have to find a way to allow myself to take risks no matter what awaits at the end of it. The planner in me who prepares for disaster has a long road ahead because it’s easier said than done. It starts with getting out of that “it’s not going to work” mindset…taking small risks and allowing myself to enjoy the moment. I have never enjoyed the moment; I have never fully enjoyed life. I look back and I have had some of the best experiences life can offer, and I get sad because I didn’t take the time to just be in the moment and feel the beauty of it. My mind was always on, “what’s next?”
I’m currently journaling on the things I love about me, my life…I will post that soon.
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