“The secret of joy is the mastery of pain” ~Anais Nin
I come from a family of runners. They run from pain, emotions, and uncomfortable feelings.
My mom was 17 when she moved to Texas to get away from her overbearing mother. She couldn’t deal with the pain of never being enough for her parents or herself. She left her parents, extended family, and friends behind in Mississippi without a second glance.
A recovering anorexic, she was looking for something, anything that would ease the pain and prove she was okay.
My father arrived in Texas in his 40s, after leaving his home country of Chile to sail the world. He was looking for something better, something bigger, something to make him feel complete.
When my parents met, my mom was 17 and my dad was 42. It was far from a match made in heaven, but somehow they ended up with their first child within a year—my brother. A year later I was born to an already overstressed mother with no family support system.
From as far back as I can remember, I knew something wasn’t right. I have always been a sensitive person, and I could feel the stress and anger my mom held within even as a toddler.
I didn’t understand these emotions, even though I knew they were there. I assumed, as most children do, that these emotions were directed at me. I decided I had to make things right, because I had obviously done something wrong.
My mom was prone to spontaneous outbursts of anger, so I made it my mission to make her happy. I did everything and anything I could for her and my dad. I knew when I showed emotions it would upset my parents, so I learned to hold my own feelings in.
I taught myself that I was unworthy and flawed, and that I should be happy that my parents took care of me.
Eventually, the pressure I put on myself became too much. Every time my parents fought, I blamed myself for not pleasing them, for not doing enough to make them happy. (more…)