This year will be a year of reflection and real heart realizations that must happen. I often wonder where, how, and why my heartbreak began. It took some time, but it truly goes back to my parents. Please understand I am not blaming them for a crappy childhood, but I put the pain of the lack of love I received on them instead. Please allow me to explain.
My father grew up in a large, always on show, had to look a certain way type of popular Spanish family. His parents were beautiful, his older brother super handsome, and his two older sisters absolutely gorgeous. There were no words to describe those two ladies. When my father was born, he was the most beautiful baby the hospital had ever seen. I’ve heard stories about how he was so calm, beautiful curly hair, plum cheeks, and just super calm, whenever a woman held him. He was my grandmother’s golden child and she let the world know it. It didn’t change as he grew up either.
My poor mother was abused, treated like the help my so many people, but being the oldest of six children, born to two people who were so ill matched from the start naturally there was no love there, there was no love shown to my mother. When I say my mom was abused there is no lies. Alcoholic father, emotionally constipated mother, and never being enough. Yet her beauty shown through her every single day. My mother had a figure women would kill for, long black beautiful thick, curly hair that no matter what she did to it, her hair would always recover. Her smile would light up an entire room.
You would think two people like this would never want their own kids to experience this kind of thing. Uh…yeah. Well they were ill fitted as well. Neither of my parents loved each other. They had a roll to play, a job to do, and that was it.
My father had his “golden” child. My sister Jessica. Then his ultimate one, his son to carry on his name. I was just there, an extra seen as a tax deduction. Great! My mother didn’t know (and still doesn’t know) how to communicate properly. She’s a follower 90% of the time, but a leader 10% of the time when it really matters. I am like my mother to a point.
The lack of emotional support and the feel of love comes from your childhood. As you grow you want that knowledge that your parents love you, and they accept you for who you are. Trust me it’s taken my generation to have kids and realize our trauma and watch out for the next generation.
Never in my life have I been told I’m beautiful, I am loved, I am accepted for who I am. I just assumed my parents and my family understood and loved me no matter what. Boy was I wrong. So very wrong.
In my mother’s eyes I’m a mess, but a work in progress mess. It’s not organized or wrapped up in a nice presentation for the world to see. I am to never be told that I am beautiful or smart because that affects the way my brain function works or allows it to work, plus it makes me too much a “woman” in a man’s eye when I need to be strong, independent, and intelligent. Show that I don’t need anyone to take care of me…..especially emotionally.
My father made sure to remind me of my position in the family. I’m great for funny conversations, witty enough to joke with the best of them, and understand how to make myself presentable. Yet my sister and brother are always ahead of me and I’m behind them. I’m just available when needed. Good times I tell you.
I think it’s time to peel back how my heart hurts for something I don’t really understand: love, acceptance, emotional support, reliability, and real! I mean so very real. A love worth fighting for because all I’ve ever seen are people who’ve thrown in the towel ending every single relationship they’ve ever had.
Let me know what you guys think. Have you ever take stock of your truest heartbreak and how it began?
Thoughts and Views from Kansas 🌻 