If I would’ve known in my younger years that grief is not only for the deceased, I’m not sure I would’ve made it this far. This has to be one of the biggest life lessons in my twenties, even though it was introduced earlier than that. It’s one thing to be told, or to even have knowledge of a standard principle that is a part of the universal human experience, but to FEEL it and to work through it within myself has been entirely different. It seems as though every instance comes to the same conclusion that as time goes on things will get better. Will they?
I have grieved a LOT in the past two years. I’ve grieved friendships, past romantic relationships, past versions of myself, parental relationships, dreams, and ideologies. It seems never-ending and undeserving but also deserving at the same time because who gets to be exempt from this? The answer is no one if that wasn’t already clear.
Unfortunately, like many others, the first and biggest heartbreak I experienced came from my father. It started early on in my adolescence. I used to be the biggest daddy’s girl in the world which feels strange and extremely unfamiliar now. Although he began treating me differently with his paranoia and manipulation at an early age, I always loved him unconditionally. There was nothing anyone could tell me about him and all the bad things he ever did to me I dismissed without question because I yearned for that connection we used to have. Who he used to be before life turned his world upside down. Before he allowed it to turn his world upside down.
Early on I found value in proving my love for him. I thought that he could see my loyalty, unwavering support, and resilience through the persistent pain he put me through. He questioned every little movement I made down to how quickly I looked at the cashier at a fast-food restaurant, to how long it took me to answer a question or engage in conversation. Even down to the pace of my walk. He believed I was always sending signals to everyone around me about him and when that happened he would take me to a private place to scream at me for my disrespectful behavior.
Every moment I had with him after he changed in my adolescent years I always had to be 20 steps ahead in the conversation. Always ahead of the possibility of how any movement, word, or look can be perceived by him or anyone surrounding us. Constantly preparing for any possible outcome. How is a child supposed to navigate that?
The truth is, I didn’t. I felt lonely, unloved, invaluable, unworthy, and that because physically I didn’t go without anything that those feelings weren’t warranted. In my earlier teenage years it just continued to get worse. So many things out of my control due to adults in my life (oh the life of a minor). Suicidal ideology was very prevalent amongst those dark times. As a christian, I knew that I couldn’t remove myself from this earth because I couldn’t choose my time to go as that was God’s choice. So instead I prayed to him that a natural accident would occur that would remove me from this earth and that the people in my life that loved me would be able to grieve me in peace because it wasn’t something that I did to myself.
I asked my parents to take me to therapy but if you know black families, for the most part mental health and open conversation is foreign territory. At the time, I didn’t even know it was a “mental health” issue I just knew that I no longer wanted to be here. I used to feel that my father and I had that kind of relationship. That he understood me more than anyone else. When I was being called dramatic or over emotional he would say I’m expressive and wonderfully articulate. When I was told I was too much he would remind me I’m just enough and that I could always be more. When he was good, he was the best. When he was at his best, he reminded me that I’m perfect as I am.
When you grow up as a suburban black girl, you can’t have problems. Whether it is explicitly spoken or not, you know how everyone feels about the way you talk, act, look, etc. All my family saw was a girl who lived in the suburbs, went to a private christian school, and got to travel. She must have the life. Perfect as can be. Because my struggles differed from my parents, they thought if this is the worst you’re going through, then that’s really not bad. Because there are people that would want to trade positions with you and there are people who go without food, shelter, etc. I always knew that things could be worse without being told which is why I just thought but what about me?
It perpetuated an ideology that because I’m not starving and looking for my next meal, my problems didn’t matter and how selfish of me to just not be appreciative of what I have. How could I even consider taking myself off of this earth when there are people who would kill to have the life I live. Both things can exist at the same time. I can be appreciative of the life I live, but I can also face depression and anxiousness within that.
And it was bad. It wasn’t just bad “for me” it would be bad for anyone. As I got older, I understood that’s where the problem was. No one can understand me the way that I do. But I struggled because I always just wanted them to say sorry. Sorry that you went through this, sorry it happened, sorry you didn’t deserve it, sorry I know it’s hard, sorry I wish it would’ve happened differently, sorry your feelings are hurt, and sorry that I didn’t know how to acknowledge them. Anything but this isn’t that bad or look at everything I’ve done for you or things could always be worse.
That’s when it hit me. I realized that this was where the people pleasing came from, because I always felt like I had something to prove. I have to prove my struggle, my strength, my blackness, my resilience, my faith, and all of these things. No one told me I had to prove anything to them. I just felt it. I felt that no one besides my grandparents during those times thought that my life experiences were worth me shedding a tear over. The summers I spent with them truly saved my life in an unexplainable way. I went there and felt free. Free to say everything and they accepted it. They loved that I was “dramatic” or “emotional” and I never felt as seen and heard as I did by them.
So what’s next now that I realize that I’ve set an expectation on myself to prove to everyone around me all of these things? Well, I start with deciding who and what I want to be to prove to myself. When I started really thinking about the person that I truly am, I started to think I am worthy. I am kind, loving, passionate, strong, and beautiful. The unconditional love I had from my father wasn’t a curse, but a blessing. I can give people the feeling that I yearned for. I can continue to love unconditionally, but with boundaries and sometimes those boundaries include letting go because you just don’t get that apology accompanied with the change you deserve. For years and years, I have waited for these acknowledgements and apologies, but it just didn’t happen. My birthday in 2023 was the last phone call I had with my father. He said terrible things to me on that call and when I hung up the phone, I said to myself I will never allow him to treat me like this again.
I’ve said that so many times before, but this time felt different. It didn’t feel like an angry response it felt like a relief. In that moment I realized I just can’t have a relationship with someone who continues to hurt me especially after all these years. I don’t have to wait for an I’m sorry to move on and I don’t have to wait for someone to choose to be done with me before I decide to leave.
That alone left me feeling fully in control and gave me the ability to move forward. While grieving who is still here has left me feeling hopeless in many moments it’s also opened my eyes to my self discovery. I want to be here and present in this life. I don’t ever want anyone to feel that they are grieving me when I am still right here. And the journey will always continue. Seasons of isolation, seasons of community, seasons of joy, seasons of distress, but it will always evolve for the better in the end and in the end it will all be okay.
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