Reemergence: Finding My Way Back To The Surface

I’ve always seemed to struggle with feeling like it’s okay for me to make mistakes. I grew up in a household where love and criticism (Click the link below to read about it.) went hand in hand. And while I can appreciate the ways that being receptive to criticism has shaped my ability to be flexible and make changes to my benefit. I never quite understood why it seemed like I was held to a higher standard because of it.

As an anecdote, I remember the day my dad emphatically informed me that I wouldn’t be allowed to do anything fun for a couple of hours after school every day. The reason was because my older brother wasn’t doing any of his homework. His grades needed to be improved and my dad had decided that every single day after school, he needed to have this allotted time dedicated to school work. “I’m not worried about you, though.” He whispered, “You always do your homework.”

It was true. My brother teased me mercilessly about being a nerd and following all the rules. I took personal responsibility for my grades in such a way that neither parent ever even needed to ask. And yet, here I was feeling punished because my brother chose not to do the same. My dad explained to me that it was because he didn’t want to be unfair to my brother. He didn’t want him to feel bad having to watch me enjoy my free time.

This was always an experience that stuck with me because I couldn’t under how that made sense to my family. How did they not see this as something that was unfair to me? Much of my childhood was like this.

Because of experiences like these, I felt a real need to make my own mistakes. I craved the messiness of doing something wrong. It sounds absurd now, but when I was a kid I recognized the part of myself that always thought things through before acting and despite being proud of myself for it, I wished for the freedom of impulsivity.

I wanted to be able to make mistakes and be forgiven, too. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case, the standard was so different for me in our home that I remember getting into trouble for things like news stories that I hadn’t watched or not accurately naming all the parts of a chicken.

Needless to say, I internalized that my cardinal sin was all of the things I didn’t know.

The sentiment followed me into adulthood. Jobs where managers would expect more from me than my co workers. Friendships where I was “the maternal one”. Romantic relationships where partners gave me the role of being the mature partner to their free-spiritedness; the Hera to their Zeus. It was infuriating. I never asked for any of it and, to be honest, it didn’t feel natural. I saw very clearly the ways that the people that I engaged with pushed me back into the restrictive box of being “responsible” whenever I stepped out of it.

The reason for so much backstory is to really offer an explanation for what I feel that I’ve learned just recently. Forgiveness.

I believe that because of my experiences with making mistakes and being “the responsible one”, I didn’t quite have a healthy relationship with empathy.

Empathy has always, for me, been understanding what someone is going through and helping them to not feel so much if the pain that it caused them. Like not watching television or playing games after school. I knew, consciously, that it wasn’t fair. But emotionally, I felt like I had no choice but to be in it (whatever “it” was) with them.

I was being put in a box labeled “the responsible one” because I was unknowingly taking on their sense of responsibility.

The reoccurring issue in adulthood stemmed from this. I had been hurt so many times and despite many many efforts, I could not let go of the immense pain and anger that I felt. I didn’t understand why I could be riddled with guilt for hurting someone, while others could behave so callously towards me and feel nothing.

I’m sure many can relate to the agony of not understanding why you just seem to care more. You don’t dislike yourself for it, because you’re proud of being caring. But it just feels like too much weight on your shoulders. Especially when you just need someone to return the favor.

Then suddenly after so many prayers and tearful nights, it occurred to me. I was holding onto so much anger and sadness about things that I felt were done wrong to me because somewhere deep down inside I believed it was my responsibility to hold onto the hurt with them.

Ever heard the saying, “Hurt people, hurt people”?

I was helping to carry the hurt of the people who had hurt me because I believed it was my responsibility. Not consciously, that’s an important thing to remember because consciously I knew that it wasn’t my issue.

So, in digging a little deeper, I started to realize how difficult it was for me to just accept that someone could hurt me, it was a mistake, but most importantly that they hadn’t learned from it. It seemed like my pain had no impact on them.

And guess what! it didn’t.

I knew that. But I really NEEDED them to know how to not hurt me anymore so that I could move on.

I’m sure that this is all pretty obvious to some who are reading, but for others like myself, it’s not so apparent.

I didn’t want to feel like that. Wanting someone to feel my pain. Let’s be honest, I was deep in depression and I didn’t wish it on anyone. Or so I thought. But by wanting to be understood. Wanting someone to share my pain and recognize what they had made me feel, that’s exactly what I was doing.

People are allowed to make mistakes. Even the ones that hurt other people. Even the ones that they haven’t learned from. Even the ones that they may never learn from. That isn’t the thing that’s going to hold me back from moving forward and being able to be happy. There is no need to internalize the fear of being hurt by holding onto it.

The thing that was holding me back, was believing that people, myself included couldn’t be wild and messy. It was believing that I had to either forgive others by being understanding and being emotionally invested in their growth. Or that I had to mark the point of pain in order to remember to never allow myself to be hurt in that same way again. Or both. In both cases, the emotional contract remains.

So what is true forgiveness? And I’m not speaking as an expert, not in the least. Just choosing to share my ideas. But I believe that forgiving the people who have hurt me and REALLY letting go of all the pain that I’ve accumulated because of it, requires acceptance.

I should say it one more time. People make mistakes. And sometimes mistakes are things they don’t even believe are wrong. Acceptance is letting go of the image of what you hoped they would be for you. It’s being okay with the conscious choice that that person made. It’s taking a step back from your hurt and seeing the full view of a person who has decided not to do their homework. Not to be angry, but to choose not to carry their burdens for them and knowing that it doesn’t make you a bad person to say (and do) so.

I learned that life had no room for me to make mistakes because, truthfully, I had no idea what mistakes were. In many ways, they are the parts of myself that I don’t see. The parts of myself that are still growing and learning. They are the parts that don’t even have a clue and may not ever get one. But most importantly, they are the parts of me that other people don’t agree with. Which aren’t really mistakes at all.

All this time I WAS allowed to make mistakes, I just didn’t realize it. And people were more than happy to share their responsibilities with me so long as I was willingly taking them. It was never about me not being given the space to make mistakes. It was people wholeheartedly believing that I was equally responsible for their burdens.

No wonder the managers expected so much of me.

So when a loved one is angry because you choose a career path that they don’t like. Or when they’re jealous because something just seems so easy for you. Or when they’re hurting because they did something that had dire consequences. It is a choice whether or not you choose to help them overcome their struggle. Not a responsibility. Not a reason to self-sabatoge.

And alternatively, when someone hurts you. And I mean deeply hurts you, it is a choice (Just the same as when you hurt someone and choose to learn from it.) whether or not they choose to make changes.

And that’s how you’ll find your people.

If I could visit my childhood self and give her some advice. I’d tell her to turn on the tv. I’d tell her to play music and dance and laugh until her belly hurt. Not out of spite, out of love for herself. I’d tell her to take the risk and let our parents be furious and let them learn that they have to forgive me too. I would try to explain that she may not want to, but in the long run she will be so glad that she learned to enjoy life regardless of the pain of those that you care about.

There is an internal freedom that comes with forgiveness. One where you let go of the physiological need to stay where others place you.

And I’m not completely sure yet, but it may be more freeing than I could have ever even imagined.

Hm. I’ll keep you updated.

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This freewrite is apart of a series. The last entitled Stripes: A 10-year war against me part 3. Click the link below if you’re interested in reading more journal entries like these.