tw: mention of child abuse
I will never write about growing up as an immigrant in a small white town in Alberta, nor will I ever write about my parent’s struggles running a business while not being fluent in English. But I do want to write about how for the first time in my life, I’m not angry about how I grew up.
No, I shouldn’t have had to suffer abuse, especially at such a young age. And no, I don’t think it made me stronger — I probably would be a better person if I had grown up in a safe household. But, I think I understand it more, I understand how much my parents struggled, I understand it wasn’t my fault, I understand that we all did the best we could.
My perception of love was definitely twisted by how I grew up, and when I didn’t love my parents I felt like I was fucked up somehow, like I was the issue that couldn’t be fixed. I felt unloveable. My first experience of feeling like I was loved that I can remember was in high school from the friends that I still love, and then later in college, with my first serious boyfriend. I could be myself around these people, and I wasn’t punished for it, in fact, I was loved for it, and that was so new and wonderful, but also scary, because I thought that at any moment, that could be taken away from me.
Victoria Pedretti: What are you insecure about? I’m just scared people are gonna think I’m weird...Do I expect all of these people to tolerate my differences? Do I expect all these people to embrace me fully for who I am? I see it as powerful to come more and more into myself, but I do find it frightening, because what if I turn a little bit too much to the left, and everybody’s like, oh that was too much for me never mind.
I felt that sense of being unloveable again this past summer, when old memories from my childhood that I had suppressed were triggered and I felt really fucked up and damaged. It felt like I was an unloveable kid back in Canada again, instead of the girl I was in San Francisco. This disconnect was more severe than I originally thought, and I started having insomnia for the first time in my life.
But! even though my mind felt like I was that scared kid again, I physically wasn’t. I had been through this before, so I knew that I could get through it again, and more importantly, I had a safety net to fall back on: my loving friends who I consider family. Especially F, who watched me break down repeatedly as I told her that I wasn’t good enough for someone (didn’t they deserve someone less fucked up?), who reminded me that I was a kind person when I felt like the worst person alive, who truly has shown me unconditional love since I was 15.
Bianca Sparacino: Shape your spine, stronger this time. Shape your heart, bigger this time.
I finally embraced myself fully, and wholly last year (all the good parts, all the ugly parts), and felt more love than I have ever in my life. It was always there, but I think I felt like I couldn’t really accept it for some reason. Maybe because I felt like I didn’t really deserve it, and love that is conditional upon a false version of myself is not love at all.
Unsurprisingly, I felt a lot of resentment towards my parents when the memories first resurfaced. It felt unfair that I had all this baggage that I didn’t ask for, and didn’t deserve. But how can I blame them when they were trying their best? I see how differently they treat my younger brother—what more could I ask for? Maybe it is too saccharine to frame it this way but, I am who I am because of it. I am sincere and open with my affection, and I will always give my love freely because I never want anyone to second-guess my intentions. And maybe it isn’t fair, but that’s the bag I was given, and so...we ball.
The first night I landed in Canada after seeing my parents again I slept for nine hours.
Mitski (duh, how could I not include this song): Your mother wouldn't approve of how my mother raised me / But I do, I finally do / And you're an all-American boy / I guess I couldn't help trying to be the best American girl
A mix that I liked this week (esp 19:09)