Last night when I came home to wash his smell off of me, I cried because I was so tired of being objectified. I recalled the times in my life when I was told to show people my body, whether it was trying on my first string bikini, or getting my first bras and then told to show people I wasn't comfortable showing, "just show them, it's not a big deal" was my encouragement. Awkward for any 13 year old. And my early experiences learning about relationships through my father was waiting outside bedroom doors for him and his various girlfriends to finish having their alone time. The attention he would give them compared to the attention I would get was intensely different, although sometimes he would still be in boyfriend mode and say things like 'oh baby' to me as a reaction to something I said or did or sometimes I would get a whistle that he would give his girlfriend and I would feel very confused and often angry. I cried in the shower because I realized I learned at a young age to do as I was told and to not talk about feelings of being uncomfortable. Just get through it. Just get past it and then go to a safe place where it will all be over with. I've just gotten so used to sheltering my feelings that I lost the words to go with them. They have become strangely disconnected, they are now on delay. They are about 2 days off. Sometimes they don't come at all, and then you'll just never hear from me again. Those words get shoved somewhere deep inside, I think somewhere behind my eyes. I'm pretty sure if you look close enough you can sometimes see them.
I cried for my voice to come back. I cried to be heard - to hear myself. I cried because I was broken. It was 2 am and I had already washed my hair once that day. I make this terribly embarrassing cry face and I couldn't look at it in the foggy mirror because it was so pathetic. I needed to keep crying. I needed my feelings to resonate through the walls of my house out into the world, the whole world, or just until I could believe them. I brushed my teeth and crawled into bed.
They only want one thing, that's what my mother tells me.
I'm feeling you on this one Kyla. I have a hug (or two) for you whenever you need one.
ReplyDeleteIt's intensely difficult to be a woman these days--we're expected to be emotional but are rarely given any appropriate time or place to display our emotions. But that's we have friends we can depend on. I'm sorry you had to go through this alone. I love you very much.
ReplyDelete-Maya Bean
PS. This is really me, I'm borrowing Derek's account to make a comment =)
Everything that I posted about my childhood, I have already dealt with as far as my relationships with my parents....it's the relationship I have with myself that I am still learning about and this experience definitely helped me recognize the strength I have and that I CAN use it. Live and learn. Thanks guys.
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