Can we change the mould we are given?

Prologue:

Growing up I remember slamming doors, screaming and emphasizing CONSTANTLY on how I did not want to grow up to be like my mother. I know what you are thinking ' Huh ironic that we all do'. The fire inside me and will to be nothing like my mother kept my confidence on what I believed (at the time) to be certain.

...Oh Ef.

As soon as I could define my self legal I packed my bags and run away with an undeniable urge to be better, to be different.. For a short while I honestly thought it was working. I mean, I was partying, making friends and being calm, exactly opposed to what my mother has been. She was always rageful, avoiding social events and had major trust issues. I was fine, "I got this, words I kept on whispering to my self.

Too young according to Buzzfeed, Cosmopolitan and the web for me to fall in love and move in with a partner, but you never know when you will find love(jokes on me).Don't take me wrong those first months full of butterflies buzzing around (thinking where is the repellent for this sorcery), were unbelievably amazing. So what on earth went down the line in the process.

There I am losing my patience over the slightest imperfection, being upset over minor mistakes and being an absolute maniac over cleaning and hygiene. I was frightening my own self with the reflection in the mirror I certainly did not recognize (or so I thought). The sudden change was so out of my control that I expressed my concerns about my mental health to my family, they assured me it was the "adaptation process", which sounded like absolute rubbish to me.

My sister who was still living in the horror house was kind enough to pay me a visit as she was worried of my situation. Just one week staying with me she ended up in the contagious loop of losing your patience and screamed so loud that I can still vividly hearing her saying those words like a good song playing on repeat." YOU ARE JUST LIKE MOM". I can quite surely admit, nothing has ever given me a wake up call so intense that it recalled my soul back into my body almost instantly. The sudden realization that her claim was true, was even more frightful than me not knowing what was wrong in the first place.

Passively hearing but not listening to her advice on how to deal with my "issues" the more and more I kept on noticing little things that would make me shake my head and thoughtfully smile. I was turning into my mother and that was a fact. The mold; I so desperately tried to avoid followed me halfway across the world. I refused to accept that there was no way I could "fix" this, so I spend endless hours talking to therapists, googling similar cases, or simply looking for answers.

AHA! There it was 'Generational trauma' a term I was unfamiliar with but became quite frequent in my research process.Apparently, indeed there was a way to alter this ego in me I definitely did not welcome.Healing, a simple and popular term, yet such a complex, painful and excruciating process one can go through.Acceptance of what it was, was the worst part as Denial seemed so much easier. Bit by bit, and a surprisingly long time later I found almost all the pieces of the puzzle that illustrated my mold.

Endless nights or tears, numerous days or despair and uncountable months later I saw a light to a better me. I finally got most of it.

My mother works as a Nurse( In my opinion a very challenging and hard occupation for one to choose but highly respected from me), which did not make things easier.In addition to this she was also being cheated on(by my father) who also made things harder.She wasn't rageful for nothing, she was hurt.She was not an antisocial weirdo that hated people, She was so scared and depressed that she would rather spend the night in with my company than people she has to entertain.Beyond all she was not losing it because my presence was simply so unpleasant that she couldn't take it, but because I was the only one she thought was listen to her cry for help. Unfortunately, at the time I was lacking also the mental capacity to comprehend things but also the experience to empathise or even guide.

Ironically enough, I had worked in retail where in line with my mother's job I had to deal with people and their opinions. I also got cheated on and had also fallen in depression. I perhaps had to fall into the same rabbit hole as some conspiracy from the universe to change things. Reacting just as She did to every unfortunate situation was because I did not know better not due to my incapacity to change. I have grown from what I was given rather than adapt to it.

One day at a time...

The shoulder tattoo I did to fit in with the rest of the Gen Zs, an inspirational quote I will probably want covered by 40.Although, that's how I got through it all, change did not happen over night. It was rather the consistency of unbalanced days and a lot of ups and downs. Which over time created the beautiful inner peace I obtained through the process.

Epilogue:

Moulds CAN be changed.