#breakingthecycle

They never gave me much love. I never really felt what it was like to be loved, so the little they gave me was always enough for me. I would cling to that person, and to me, we were already friends, colleagues, whatever it was.

On the street where I lived as a child, there was a lady who showed me a lot of affection. Her name was Dona Ana. Dona Ana was a teacher. Her house was simple, even dirty, and she had two children. One of them, Rodrigo, died in an accident. I still have memories of him today—a handsome guy, full of life, almost wild. I won't lie, sometimes I see myself in him. I was young, about six or seven years old, and I remember looking at him, thinking how beautiful and wonderful he was, and telling myself, "Wow, I want to be like him." Everyone liked Rodrigo. He was free. Unfortunately, he died very young in a car accident. After that, Dona Ana was left with her older daughter, Daniela, and her husband, Seu Célio.

Oh, how I loved spending afternoons at Dona Ana’s house. She always cooked delicious meals. All the birthday cakes in the neighborhood were made by her, and they were so good! Dona Ana was such a kind soul. But I also remember how my adoptive mother, Isabel, and others would talk badly about her behind her back, saying she owed money to everyone, that she was dirty. I never cared about that. I liked going to her house; there, I felt loved.

Sometimes, I would spend the entire afternoon there with her daughter, watching movies, talking, laughing. Other times, I would go to the kitchen, hug Dona Ana, give her a kiss, and she would always tell me she was my godmother. And she truly was a wonderful godmother, a person who always brought light into my life.

I remember one time when she saved me from Isabel, who was beating me. Isabel found me playing hide-and-seek under the bed with other kids, and in a rage, she pulled me out and started kicking my face. The door was open, the house was full of people because of a party, and even then, she didn’t hesitate to do it. The one who saved me that day was Dona Ana. She was passing by, saw the scene, and shouted for Isabel to stop. Isabel stopped, and I clung to Dona Ana. From that day on, she held a special place in my heart.

I always called her godmother, and whenever I had the chance to be by her side, I was. But she passed away, taken by breast cancer that devastated her and her entire family. She became unrecognizable.

I’m grateful to Godmother Ana for saving me, but I also remember that she was often involved in my schoolwork. Isabel would take over my projects and make me sit there, watching, wanting to participate but unable to.

I’ve always had that inherent feeling that I was always wrong. I had an internalised feeling that I would never have enough knowledge or have a valid opinion that I can share, people would be interested in or consider valid. I never found myself at the forefront of decision making. Whether it was personal or for others. I always look for a second opinion. I have almost no confidence in myself and I never even noticed! 

Recently, flashbacks came through my head more often than my last 30 years of living. And I have become so drown into such memories, can’t seem to shake it off as easily as before. 

So I decided to start logging them somewhere. 

I was playing some silly flash game online, some sushi making game. Not very challenging. Maybe that’s when my brain starts to wander off and flashbacks found the crack and slipped right through in. 

Here we go. 

Flashback: I was in secondary school. Form 1. First year of junior high, in north american school language. I was assigned to be sitting beside this girl. She was a cheerful one and have a distinctive laughter, quite high pitch and piercing in a way.

Anyways, I remembered one of the conversation where we were sort of arguing how well we did on a test or something. At that age, before my dad past away, I was, I have been excelling my school work. I was always ranked the first in class, ever since primary school, aka grade school.

And I knew I did well in that test. But this girl would not believe I did good which upset me. And she went on and praised another girl in our class on how well that girl would do in this test.

Some background notes here, we all come from different grade schools; so naturally, people tend to stick together with whom they knew before, at first anyways. We all blended in afterwards. 

So defending her friend, which was fine. And her friend was also a superstar student in their old school. That’s fine too. But she made it sound like it was her achievement tho, weird. So the result came in and I indeed did very well and even better than her friend, with evidence. And she just concluded with a note, “You just do not look like it.”

I was very upset but I don’t remember saying much back. Truth is, I am better.

But, now that I have grown up and having such flashback. There is only one meaning, it is affecting me still. This memory did not bring me a lighthearted amusing mood. It reminded me how often people were looking at me like I would not succeed. Putting a label on me that, oh she is just nobody. Disheartening and confusing. Why do people do that? What’s wrong about me that they look down on me even before I had a chance. And it doesn’t help with my self-esteem growing up by hearing such thing often enough, I started to believe it too and start to fear to be better. Like, it feels like I should not excel because it upsets people. And it does not help that most of the time, it was not from a random classmate, it was from my family.

Oh, how weak was I letting it condition me all this years?

Lessons?

#1) It was probably my ego being hurt and wanted to prove I was better. I didn’t have to argue because I was better. Reality would show them. But I was also a developing child, I couldn’t wait to show it to her face at that age. 

#2) She did not do as well compared to me or her friend. The fact that she took her friend’s past achievement to her own instead speak some issues. Some jealousy issue maybe? Which I was too young and broken to comprehend and be compassionate about it. Speaking to a emotionally balanced adult might help, which bring to my next point.

3) Another thought that was bothering me: it was borderline bullying and I was clearly hurt. My mum didn’t know. I did not tell her. I did not cry to her saying so and so said that about me and was it that bad, and asked for comfort. I did not. 

if I did, would she comfort me? 

As a child, I don’t think I thought about it much. I just didn’t feel comfortable telling her stuff. I was only supposed to perform good in school. When she saw my other friend insulted me being dump and no brain, she was more ashamed than angry for me. She was ashamed that I was being stupid or showing my stupid side and letting other see it and had a chance to call me this name. Instead of, you know, furious about someone else call her daughter mean names like I would have been for my baby girl.

Maybe that’s why I can’t bring myself to her that I was not happy. She also called me a cry baby a lot that I cried too much. How can I be comfortable crying to her about such a minor thing?

I got beaten up for getting a 98% in primary school. 

Too much, just too much. 

My bottom line here, I would make it a life mission to let my baby girl feel comfortable telling me what went wrong in school, in her days and know that mommy would always be here for her. She CAN cry in front of me without feeling judged. She CAN ask me for comfort when needed, It would not deemed as weak. She can learn to regulate her emotion by allowing emotion flow and having a support system because mommy loves her, no matter what.

And that always brings me to this question, so does my mom love me this way too?

Probably not the same way. So which way is her way then? it still breaks me to ponder about this. I am just gonna assume she does and did it the way that I don’t understand and not comfortable with. 

#4) So, back to reality. How should I deal with the same situation now? I should be able to realize people are judgmental. They form opinions, with past experiences. It is not fair, not fair at all.  

But I should not let their stupid uninformed opinion bother me or getting in my ways to be successful in life. Which makes me choosing their side and not believing in myself, which was how my mom made me feel. I know it is probably why I was doing it to myself this way all this years, by being drilled into my brain in young. But now that I know better, I need to do myself a do over and be my own cheerleader. 

I don’t need to fight or argue. The truth would show them. If I am better, it would show without me saying it so. If I am not goof enough in certain things, I would humbly admit and learn. 

Also, I have noticed how people don’t like it when I perform great. Jealousy issue. It bothered them and it bothered me, making me wanting to dial back down to be less good and blend in, for a friendship which was never true.

I should know that, such issues are not for me to control. It is their journey to go through, just like my pain and sorrows that shaped my flaws today. I should probably show more of the humble side of me but still knowing that being my best is not anybody’s business. I will do my best and continue to learn to be better.