Check In
February 4, 2021
2:02 am
What’s limiting me? What has me set up to fail?
Being born fatherless to a single mother.
Moving around consistently to the point where the only consistent thing in my life was the inconsistency.
Having my identity and opinions stifled amongst my family’s strong personalities.
Insecurity for being fatherless.
Seeing broken relationships, and abusive relationships as a child.
Running away.
Changing schools every year.
Moving countries.
Seeing my mom work three jobs. Not seeing my mom at all.
Never having my own personal space. Always sharing a room.
Not having a voice growing up.
Physical insecurities. Low self esteem.
Feeling abandoned and rejected.
Which lead me to seek out relationships at 11 years old to finally feel loved.
Seeking out validation through school performance.
Education fueled me. Because if I became smart and learned everything that I could then I was worth something.
First broken relationship.
Second.
Third.
And now a broken engagement.
I gave myself to abusers. I gave everything I was to morph into what they wanted me to be until I was suffocated and numb. Then I’d wake up from the daze and run as far away from the relationship as possible.
Running away is comfortable.
Lying is comfortable.
Leading people on and playing games is comfortable.
Having a secret life is comfortable.
Being the other woman is comfortable.
Keeping them on a string is comfortable.
Isolation is comfortable.
Especially now that I have my own space. I never leave it.
It’s comfortable.
I am comfortable.
I grew up with no knowledge of diet and exercise.
Diet meant that I was too fat so I needed to starve myself and not eat so much.
Exercise meant pain and I didn’t have to put myself through any of that.
Comfort was a band-aid.
It’s not until I started getting asked what was wrong.
Then I felt uncomfortable because I didn’t know. Because I was so in denial. I was so fake I was such a good performer.
Make them laugh and then go lay in numbness alone.
Overcompensate in giving.
The only time I ever felt alive was when I was learning. It fueled me because it made me feel small. Like I didn’t know anything and I needed more and more and more.
Until the pandemic hit. And my grandma had a heart attack. And it was my thesis semester.
And this huge unavoidable mirror was put up to my face.
And when I looked into her eyes I didn’t recognize her.
And everything I’ve been avoiding my whole life came up again.
You’re a liar. And a cheat. And inconsistent.
You aren’t enough because they never stay.
He didn’t stay. He ran away as far as he could get. And he’s still running.
And you still want him. You like to feel rejected.
It’s comfortable.
You like to feel like you’re not enough. You like the feeling of being hungry.
It’s comfortable.
It’s all you know.
The emptiness in your heart and the emptiness in your stomach is all the same to you.
As long as you feel empty. Then you’re comfortable.
Stay there. Stay hungry. Stay isolated.
The demons you already know are better than the ones you don’t.
But knowledge is leading me somewhere. It’s been calling me since I acknowledged the emptiness.
Since I called it bipolar. When it wasn’t.
With every book I get closer. I find a piece of me and I get stronger.
I stand my ground and no one is going to take me away anymore.
No relationship is going to corner me into thinking that I deserve just the bare minimum and that if I want to keep a man I have to put up with everything else that comes with the bare minimum.
But I don’t.
And I won’t.
I’m at war. And shallow cannot come near me.
This shallow version of myself is going to die. Because I’m going to war with myself.
School was the only thing that was mine.
I gave it everything. I didn’t care.
I took on being alone and broke because the knowledge just felt so good.
Broke. Still broke. Until I discovered broke is a mentality.
Knowledge was only mine. No one could tamper with it.
I wanted increase and I still do.
That’s what’s been leading me here.
My mind. The liar. But my fuel.