Reader, I am very angry right now as I write this. I can’t believe I’m letting myself admit it out loud. That in and of itself is a milestone for me. I feel pretty guilty for writing this, because there are still parts of me that think I’m not allowed to feel anything when you do something that upsets me.
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My feelings aren’t a big deal, especially if I pretend they don’t exist. I’ve been taught to always bite my tongue and endure, to be the first to admit fault regardless of the actual situation. I’ve heard it enough times. I’m selfish, entitled, narrow-minded, ignorant. I don’t listen and I can’t get anything right. My opinions don’t matter. You never said that out loud, but that’s what you showed me. That’s what your actions told me.
You cut me off when I try to speak. You don’t respect my personal space nor the time I take for myself. You go through my belongings and read the messages on my phone. You tell me I’m stupid when you’re in a bad mood, and the world revolves around you if your day didn’t go well. None of the decisions I make are “exactly right” and I’m not smart enough to know what’s good for me. I don’t understand what you mean when you tell me to have a discussion with you and share my ideas but then reprimand me for “talking too much” when I begin to say something. In all honesty, you act more like a child than I do sometimes. You throw a tantrum when things don’t go your way and when someone tries to listen, you plug your ears and refuse to listen.
When I was younger, I used to bottle all those emotions up inside me. I let them build like a pressure cooker and when I felt like I couldn’t handle it anymore, I’d implode, releasing all the toxicity I’d been harboring for months and months.
It’s a whole guilt trip too. If I’m sad, I’m not appreciating what I already have. If I’m angry, I’m not being fair to other people. If I’m happy, I’m showing too much emotion and that’s a sign of weakness. The fact is, I rarely get angry. It took me a long time to understand what being angry felt like, and it took even longer to admit I was capable of feeling something so strong. And to you, it just wasn’t okay for me to feel such a way. I’m not even too sure what being happy means either. Because if I so much as laugh out loud in public, you tell me to shut up and keep it to myself.
You tell me everything’s going to come back later and bite me in the ass. That the world is a cruel place and that it’ll show me how good I had it back when you were everything in my life. It’s true, I’ve met plenty of awful people. But I also have people in my life that tell me how much I mean to them. They remind me daily that what I say has value, and they listen when I choose to share my thoughts. They respect my opinion and validate my feelings.
You do none of those things. You belittle me and make me feel less than human. You tell me that the founding parents of your religion are always watching and that they preach kindness and positive thinking. How can you expect me to follow any of those teachings you force onto me when you don’t even treat me that way in your relationship with me?
There’s something you should know about internal pressure cookers. They create an empty void inside you and turn you into stone. Cold, hard, unfeeling stone. Especially if feeling something means you’re weak.
But here’s the thing. I’m allowed to feel whatever the hell I want. It is impossible for me to pretend that I’m okay when I’m clearly not. My feelings are natural reactions to things that happen to me. And when I’m happy, I smile and laugh. When I’m sad, I cry to find catharsis and it’s not okay for you to tell me to stop. When I’m angry, I grow quiet and need time for it to pass. When you do things to me that cause me to feel any of these emotions, I know that it’s not my fault.
So don’t tell me to calm down anymore. I hate it when you do. I refuse to let you dictate how I feel or the things I think or say. It’s not your place, and it’s time for you to respect that.
Ellamental Thoughts 