I’ve been wondering all my life what my purpose is. I constantly ask myself why was I put here on this earth? Everything seems so bleak right now, but I know there’s a light at the end of this unbelievably long tunnel.
MY therapist tells me I can’t accept my reality. He couldn’t be more accurate. I can’t accept my father’s death. I can’t accept I’ve been exiled from my family and branded as the black sheep. “Blood of the covenant is stronger than the water of the womb” is a quote I hold onto when doubt has me cornered. I get to choose my family. I get to find my own village. It’s difficult for me to believe that I’m worthy of love. I hear my mother’s voice as clear as if she were speaking the words again.
“Worthless” is what she liked to call me. I’ve branded myself with this title. I walk around aimlessly in this world with caution tape that no one else sees but me. You would think a fire sign would be warm and inviting, but I feel more like a wild fire spreading and destroying everything and scaring the innocent people around me. The thing is, I can’t stop the rage when it comes out. It feels familiar to me. My father’s voice echoes in my mind. I feel his rage. He was a good man, but he struggled on the inside for years. From the loss of his parents, to the war, all the way until his preventable death. He was a fighter with the heart of a saint, but he rarely showed that side. Almost as if he didn’t think he was worthy of showing that side because a man isn’t supposed to show emotion. He must remain strong and never show the enemy your weakness.
Since his death I feel like I’ve embodied this role. I’ve become this good little soldier I can only hope my father is proud of. But I don’t want to be a soldier anymore. It comes with a heavy price. My blade is always drawn and ready to attack. Everything looks like a threat. This armor is heavy and rusty from my own blood.
I’m trapped in the snares of my own suffering. I know how to release the trap, but I’m too scared to see what’s beyond this pain. The pain is familiar. It was embedded in me as a child. The fear that something dangerous is lurking behind the corner and I have to control of he outcome.
Radical acceptance is a coping skill my therapist is trying to teach me, but I fight against reality, which only continues my suffering. I guess my purpose right is the keep fighting. I must shed my old self. The scared little girl with glasses and greasy hair always hiding and hoping someone would save her. I must become the mother I never had. I must become the protector, the nurturer, and the comforting embrace I can always run into. I must become everything my mother was never able to give me because she was also trapped in her sickness, but the difference is she never asked for help. She thought it was easier to take it out on me.
I want to believe there is something beyond this pain. I have to keep fighting every single day for myself because I deserve a good life. I’m grateful for the opportunity to wake up every morning and have coffee. I’m grateful for the support system I have, even though it’s bare bones right now. I’m grateful for the feeling I have when I express myself creatively. It’s the one thing that makes me feel most like myself, like I can conquer anything in front of me. “A place where someone still thinks of you is a place you can call home.” I just hope my father is somewhere watching me and paving a way for me to finally come home to him. I’ll get to reunite with all the family I never met or don’t remember because I was too young.
“People’s lives don’t end when they die; it ends when they lose faith.” I want to find my faith again. To reconnect with my soul, my inner self, my inner child. I want to come home to myself and feel safe and loved. I know I’ll get there one day. “Hard work is useless for those who don’t believe in themselves.” I want to believe in myself. I want to believe I’m capable. I want to believe I’m worth it all. I want to be grateful for the struggle because I survived it and I’m still here. I won’t give up until I get the answered I desperately need to know. I’ll keep fighting until my last breath.
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