coming home

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coming home is painful. the joy of being close to family again is quickly masked by the revelation of cracks in our family dynamic. i feel the burden of my parents karma and chosen lives every time i get near. they have both individually chosen this path of suffering. my father, guilt and shame my mother defensive insecurity.i love them to bits and only wish i could sit and have a genuine discussion with them, one where deep unresolved personal issues and tender emotions didn’t get in the way and lead to arguments. just once i want to be able to let my guard down and not have to measure every word i say in fear of touching and exposed nerve and setting off a potential bomb. they have both buried so profoundly so many emotions that real life is almost too much to face especially in my mothers case, the tiniest thing sparks her negativity and hurt to the point where happiness, lightness and joy are just too difficult because she is hanging on so hard to everything else. i know this feeling because my entire life i have lived in my head trying to understand myself, my feelings and why i wasn’t more like everyone else. after much work as i bring myself into balance and create peace between my head and heart i have stated to finally recognise my soul-something i desperately wanted since i can remember, just to be. to be me. to be my most authentic self and to enjoy life. to truly be happy. now when i come home i feel sadness and  a sort of repression. i feel the weight of their own self imposed repression and i recognise my own repression of words, thoughts and feelings around them. as a result our relationship, which is full of all the love they have, is superficial, perpetual small talk. 

my poor father is so afraid of my mother, more than for fear of her hurting him but fear of him releasing the hurt child that is trapped inside her. seeing her in a rage or living one of her silent treatments because of something he said would create such intense feelings of guilt and shame in himself that he constantly wimps out, represses his voice and avoids confrontation. as a result his voice is so strained. you can hear it and feel it. my mother constantly puts him down, belittles and controls him and dad takes it but he suffers in silence as a martyr. he is always so concerned with other peoples suffering he forgets about himself. he takes on the suffering ignorant to how much it has eaten away at him over the years and the repercussions. now i know why my  brother stays away. his distance pisses my mother off, it grates and hurts her that she is not more important in his life so much so that when he comes around they adore him. 

i am to real, i do not know how to fake it and my mother knows i see through all of it and am capable of bringing too much oppressed pain to the surface as a result she, as i do, feels like she is walking on eggshells around me and can’t be her created, protected self. with my father she can get away with anything she wants and my brother never stays long enough to be affected by these feelings, he’s like a roman soldier who manages to walk away unscathed protected by his armour that he removes at night safe far away in is lair again. 

i know above all i must love and accept myself despite anything else and now the duty of accepting who they are so that i can love them fully and really without judgement show it. 

i think my mother craves my admiration and respect. my father needs love and laughter and understanding. they are much more than just their hurt and past.

this is why i have come home. to heal these wounds i carry since i can remember so that i can have a clean relationship and start a family finally. 

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