It Hurts....Make it Go Away

Some of us grew up with a mother who took time for us, made sacrifices to show her love for us and often, but not always, if one fell or was picked on in school, you could go to her and cry..."Mommy it hurts, make it go away!" Your Mommy would kiss it and promise it would get better. You'd believe her too, as miraculously, the pain would seem to subside, just in knowing that she cared.

But what about when one gets older? I mean, beyond our early youth as a child or the typical teen years and into adulthood. When you can see your parents (whether they are single or married) are not perfect. That perhaps they have made mistakes and even sometimes, have done so by you.

Does the favored child tend to be the one who succeeds? Perhaps because their self-confidence has been boosted all their lives. They know that when they go to their mother or parent of choice, the boo-boo's in life have been taken care of, or have been given support during that tough time in their lives. Are they the ones considered more well adjusted?

What of the child who is always told he or she can't do anything right? Do they become the delinquents of the world or perhaps the bent on crime perpetrators in life? Do they possibly become the uni-bomber's and said menace to society?

Lately, having been on the down end of things, I have to admit that I have been hurting. But, I choose to keep all I really feel inside, away from my family. I choose not to share the hurt's, humiliations and boo-boo's, but keep them to myself; that is, of my said thought-to-be injustices. This includes whether it is my placement in life at the moment, or of the felt disrespect. I am often left feeling as if I don't exist when in a family gathering. Even shunned for what I might speak up about, while left with the feeling of being pushed down or scoffed at, just for giving my opinion on things. I rarely choose to even do that!

I recall as a girl, we could be seen but not always heard. That if we disagreed with one of our parents; either our face was slapped, we were told not to sass back, or sent to our room for being disobedient. Lately, I have felt as if I have received all three punishments. I tell myself..."I'm too old for this crap! What are they thinking?"

Is my self-esteem based on my past, along with my own grievances held against me? Why can't I speak my mind? What is it that makes me so different from the rest anyway? I remember in school being afraid to partake in debates. Perhaps this was because of my fear of being shot down, as I was use to at home. I had learned that to survive, I kept my opinions to myself and kept my mouth shut. Maybe, just maybe, that is why I found an outlet in writing. Whether in a journal, or to escape inside my world of books. This was where it felt safe and where no one there could hurt me.

I guess one learns over time to put on a good front. To mask such hurts. But sometimes, they surface if they are triggered by a painful event, or something is said to upset you. I guess as of lately, I am at that point. I have to wonder though...do I, or did I treat my sons this way? Gees, I hope not!

I guess since I can't go to anybody with my hurts, I have to put it down and hope to forget about it. But, I do not want a volcano effect; where somewhere down the road it can all erupt, causing me and others chaos. I have had to learn to put things in perspective; catagories I suppose. That which I can just brush off, or maybe feel safe enough with to choose to share. Even if it's just in my personal journal or in a close friend that I trust.

This girls dam is not broken yet! It seems to be successfully holding back the waterflow. It might lap like the sea upon the shore, but it does not spill over, cascading down the sides of the rocks or that of my cheeks.

A long time ago I was told...when there was something I found I couldn't handle...to be the one to take care of that little girl inside of me. So, I have tried to stay strong, as only I really seem to know the real answers. That is to say... as to what really helps me in a crisis. These things came to my mind:

Music, my books, a great chick flick...which could help me cry and release my pent up emotions, plus go where I felt best about myself. Sometimes, it may just include a much needed special cup of Joe or eating chocolate. Maybe hugging my cat, who purrs in my ear, letting me know I'm not really alone. She's there with me!

So, when something hurts that you can't really talk about, where do you go for comfort? They say the best way to forget that which you cannot handle in a crisis, is to try to divert it...through others. I have found this to be true. It helps me to think of my sons; who often need me for support, thus helping me forget myself. Sometimes I just focus on that of my cat...silly as it may sound, I think the bravest part of it all...perhaps even the true test of it is, to just somehow get through it.