I can’t count how many times I’ve heard that I had to grow up. Now I started wondering, I tell my daughter that she isn’t a baby anymore and she should behave like a big girl because she is. But she isn’t. She’s just a 2 year old. She’s just a baby. So why do I tell her to behave like a big girl? – Because I don’t have enough patience to sit through her wining sometimes.
Is that the reason they told me to ‘grow up’? Because they were sick of me being a child? Because they didn’t have the patience to let me be a child? Whatever the reason, it’s wrong. I want her to be a baby for as long as she can. I want her to be a big girl for as long as she can and I want her to be a child and a teenager for as long as possible because it’s never coming back. I would hate myself if I were the one who took that away from her. I have not felt my age since I was 14. I lived with my mom, my sister and my mother’s new husband and his son and life was not treating me well. In the third year of their marriage I was forced to move out. I moved to an institution for, at first, 4 days a week. I’d go Monday after school and I would go ‘home’ Friday after school. Every weekend I went ‘home’, the place felt less and less like my home. I was scheduled to stay for a year. So after a few months we agreed that I should go ‘home’ more often. So I went ‘home’ Thursday after school instead of Fridays. That went so well that I ended up not going ‘home’ for the weekends at all. I didn’t want to be there anymore. I chose the institution over the place I was supposed to call my home. I lived with a girl who was cutting herself; one girl who couldn’t deal with her abortion; a girl who was abused; a guy who blacked out every time he’d get mad. He was so sweet but as soon as he got angry he would become so scary. During my time there I tried to figure out why I was there. I wasn’t that damaged. I was angry. I was aggressive because I felt misunderstood and alone. I didn’t feel like I belonged there. Thinking about it now that it’s behind me, I know for a fact that there were other, better options. I went there because I wasn’t welcome at ‘home’. After being there for a year, I didn’t feel like going home anymore. I knew I wasn’t welcome and it got confirmed when I stayed there for 9 more months. I saw a new group of kids coming, while everyone from the group I started in, had left. I stayed for 21 months. After that time they felt that I had grown enough for me to go ‘home’. The situation at ‘home’ got out of control and so did my life. I started hanging out with friends after school as long as possible. I’d take the bus home after 6 because that’s when everyone else left. The first time I went out was the weekend before I turned 17. That’s the day when everything changed. I went with a friend who only cared about going out and meeting guys. I found new ‘friends’ and I got lost. I went out to the club every Friday night. I remember coming home after going out on Thursday night. I opened the front door, drunk and my stepfather just reached for the door to leave for work. He didn’t say a word. I went to my mom’s room to get the charger for my phone and fell, she also didn’t say a word. She just looked at me and turned around. At that point I really felt like they didn’t care. I told them I’d be home the night before. I didn’t want to stay out the whole night and they didn’t even call me to ask me if I’d be coming home. After a few terrible things had happened I got into a fight with my stepfather and I decided to move. I went to my dad. That is a different story which is making me tear up as I’m starting to think about it. It just didn’t go well at all and I moved back to Belgium. Being back in that same house made me miserable. I officially moved out of my mom’s house when I was 18. A month after my birthday. I’m scared. I don’t want to screw up anything else in my life but it feels like that’s the only thing that I’m capable of. I’m a screw up. I screw up everything that’s good in my life. I have a beautiful daughter who I want to give the world to. But I don’t want to give her all the bad things this world has. I’m scared that she will see my insecurities and my troubles and assume that it’s normal. I’m really scared. Nobody ever taught me how to be woman. Nobody taught me how to cook and put a healthy meal on the table for when my man comes home. I didn’t have an example of how a dad is supposed to treat his children. I don’t even know how to make my child my priority but not lose sight of myself. I don’t want my daughter to grow up to see how weak I am. I want to be the mom she would wish for. I want to be the mom she can be proud of. I want to be able to see my daughter grow up to be everything I’m not. I want her to do good in life. I want her to be great. But how am I supposed to set the example for her? Well, I know one thing: I’m going to give it my all to raise her better; to show her how good she can be. I will make sure that when I leave this world, my daughter will not have ever doubted my love for her. If I could make one wish I wouldn’t ask for another chance. I wouldn’t ask for a better relationship with my parents. I wouldn’t change one thing from the past. If I could make one wish I would wish to be happy. That the past could really be the past. That I could find a way to let it all go and be truly happy with who I am today. I want to be happy. Despite of my past. I just want to be happy for a change. What would you wish for? Please share your thoughts/experiences in the comments. Or email me -> go to my contact form. You know what, I have a feeling that we’ll be alright. No matter what we’ve been through or going through. ;)
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AuthorMy passion is writing. I started writing stories when I was only 6 years old and I still do it today. Blogging is something I've been wanting to do for a long time, so here we are. Archives
July 2017
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