There are many versions of “the talk” people experience throughout their lives. It could be about sex, an intervention, or possibly anything else that comes to mind that you may have experienced in your life. Recently, I had one of those with my sister about my recent break down and the past few months of how I was holed in my house.
I knew it. From the start, I knew it. My sister had thought that I was being dramatic about my whole situation and thought that people went through a lot worse compared to what I was dealing with. I understood where she was coming from. In fact, it was what I had told myself countless of times before to keep me going.
I was amazing, in other peoples eyes, before I broke down. Unstoppable. My extracurricular activities were unimaginable and I was able to keep a high average despite how busy I was in my “prestigious” high school. So, apparently what happened? I mean my whole family was worried if I was even going to college which was a given in my family always.
My sister told me that she was just worried that I would allow these past few months to define and dictate the rest of my life. My way of living in the past (trying to figure out how I ended up here) and believing that it would take me time to heal was all bullshit she said. She was also never much of a fan of my meeting a therapist from the beginning.
This isn’t about my sister but its about that one person in each of our lives that we care about that puts everything into black and white in our lives. No matter what you say, they see and say things only from their view. They don’t attempt to see things from your perspective because they find it unnecessary. To her, me changing was unnecessary. When she had returned from college she was shocked to see how different I was and told me that she had no idea if its good or bad. To her, I was fine before.
I try to explain but I don’t think she understands that I was broken before. I hid how disturbed I was. The person I am now is raw and unpleasant but if I never let myself face who I am because of others, I would never be able to change. I would always show this facade of happiness and my wounds would always be fresh and painfully open inside.
For her, my defining moment should be that when I’m ready I should delete this very blog to represent that I let go of everything that had happened to me in the past.
Honestly, I’m utterly lost…
Should I? I want to be proud of my scars. I want to be able to accept who I am and realize my past is a part of who I am, because some painful memories can’t be forgotten no matter how hard we try. Am I wrong? Is she right? Should I let go because I shouldn’t hold on to my tortured old self that has been wronged in so many ways and just continue on my way or should I continue to change based on what I’ve learned from my experiences and continue this blog to see that change throughout.
Is it worth it? I no longer seem to get anything…
All I can say is, defining moments? Bullshit!
Why can’t these very few moments be that moment for me. Or is it because it isn’t what society sees as the glamorous, perfect moment people tell us to believe is the only thing that makes us who we are. Our tears play just as much as a role as do our smiles to the person we are as of today.
So, why can’t my tears be the moment I remember as proud days of my life rather than a few months of shame?
Careers, futures, and etc all apparently begin on that defining moment where everything went right from that day on. Like the first acceptance an actress gets that begins their acting career or a writer wins a competition that gets them recognition.
I believe that the past few months were the defining moment for who I will be as a person in the future… without perfection and all smiles…but yet still important.