I am broken.
I don’t say this
so that people will feel bad for me or even use it against me. I just have to
start owning up to who I am as much as possible; especially the flaws that I
have.
I want to start
off by saying that these flaws are not excuses. And they are NOT meant to place
blame on the people I will mention. But my feelings were a result of factors
that happened to me throughout my life and because of that, I want to share my
story even more.
Because
everyone’s feelings should be justified.
I want to start
off by saying that being the only daughter of four children is hard. It ended
being a lot harder than I wanted to admit at a younger age. My emotions were
different but I could not express them (or, to take the blame away from others,
wouldn’t at the fear of being called a girl). I was felt entitled to my
accomplishments. From a young age, I believe I showed potential. I honestly
did. I was particularly bright and had a lot to show for it. But my
intelligence was not as great as my brothers’ soccer skills. Nor was my
intellect an accurate representation of who I was. I was still a compulsive
liar. I still got into trouble more than I should have. Needless to say, my
identity and self-worth constantly went from one extreme to the next. And in
the midst of all this confusion, I began to self-harm. If no one wanted to
understand me, I would punish myself. At a young age, I thought the only way to
try to feel and justify my anger was by hurting myself. That was it.
It stayed that
way all throughout most of middle school. Good grades and my duties at home and
my need to constantly be praised for my accomplishments were not enough. If I
felt bad, so I lashed out against my peers in a classic bullying technique.
This continued
into high school, except my self-harming went away. At the end of my freshmen
year, I found out I was valedictorian of my class. Then, I made Varsity soccer.
I was in a good place. I did not need to hurt myself. But still, girls’ varsity
was not as impressive as a boys’ team or having the skill my brothers
possessed. Nor did my high grades really show that I was that intelligent. I
was still number two. I felt good so I did not self-harm but took out my anger
on other people. I refused to be hugged or touched. They were not my family.
They were not who I wanted the acceptance from. But nobody really deserved to
have to deal with that bad attitude.
But it
continued.
And continued.
It continued
into college. And increased even more wen I had my first child. My entitlement
grew. I had a child AND a full
scholarship to USC AND was going full-time. Everyone should praise me.
EVERYONE. Especially my then significant other. I expected more from him than
anyone else. Expected him to praise me regardless of how I acted towards him.
But I was not being honest with anyone. I struggled with post-partum depression
and it sucked. A lot. I loved my son but my boyfriend at the time (his father)
Alex, took care of him most of that time. And did so very generously. He was a
full-time dad. Completely dedicated to taking care of our child.
His lack of a
high school diploma put him in a tough situation where getting a job was
difficult. So I took the reigns. Not only was I doing all those things, but now
I had acquired two internships (at FOX Deportes and LAUP) in order to help pay
our bills. My entitlement grew. And my necessity to watch after my child diminished.
I was a working woman. I loved working. To show affection to someone was
difficult for me. And I was still dealing with my own insecurities.
I didn’t get the
love I thought I deserved from my
family. How was I supposed to do that to a child? One I barely saw anyway. He
was with his dad most of the time. Where was my recognition?
Funny part is I
was getting it. But it wasn’t enough. And my high horse only grew with every
passing day.
Then, Alex got a job. A full-time job. Finally, something good. We could work together as a team. But we were kids. We were going to be prone to make mistakes. He was going to be prone to make mistakes. He had never had money in his life either. He was earning that money so even if he knew that he had to pay bills, he also was a young man who finally had money. He wanted things and he felt he deserved them. But my high horse (and in part, my obligation as a partner/parent) felt he should've done more. But my high horse made my communication come out the wrong way.
We began to fight, constantly. I was always angry. My depression and my anger (things I never tried to fix, just spiraled out of control). For the first time in Jack's life, I was the full-time parent. I had to watch him AND be a full-time student working on homework. I began to resent him. I did not want to spend time with my child. I was already doing so much. Why did I have to resort to be a "home-maker" as well? (Yes, this was my mindset back then).
I began to resent everyone. No one was helping me. Sure, I wasn't asking for it but no one was offering. Alex was working full-time but why couldn't he ask for days off so I can still do my things? I would scream. I would yell. I would throw things. My self-harm began again.
And I pushed everyone away. And everyone left, in their own fashion. Some more apparent and obvious then others.
My depression got worse. And in December, I tried to commit suicide. I drove my car onto the 405 freeway and hoped to end it. Something inside of me felt like I deserved everything that had happened to me. I was rude to my parents, barely spoke to my brothers, resented my son and used to badmouth my former significant other. In that moment, I felt they would be better off without me. And that's the truth.
Some of these things could have been avoided if I had gone to a therapist sooner. Then again, some of the events might have happened just as they did. The point of all this to let whoever is reading this and feels like they need help, it is okay if you feel like you need help. Don't run away from it. And don't feel weird to admit something is wrong.
Even if there doesn't seem like a former valedictorian who "has it all" should have any reason to feel the way they did, there is. And it's okay to ask for help. And it's also okay to forgive yourself.
And forgive those around you.
But it is very important that you let them be. This doesn't justify what my former significant other did. Or excuse him. But i forgive him. And I wish him happiness. And I thank him for the financial support he continues to give me and the time he spends with his son, even if it is minimum compared to what he used to spend. Because our son still very much loves him. And judgment should not be put on anyone.
There are no bad people. Only bad choices.
It's taken almost five months. Since December 27th, 2014 to admit that I made a bad decision. But I'm learning. And maybe there's a reason God allowed me to continue living. To be with my son and to bring life to another baby boy that is due in September.
And all of you people can learn too. Everyone has a chance to always be good.
