Like any child, I saw my mother (the only blood parent I had) as my number 1 person.
I spent most of my life trying to conform to what she wished or deemed appropriate for me. I’d get good grades, wear the clothes she chose, even though I didn’t like them. I even went to medical school as she strongly encouraged me.
I wanted her to be proud of me, to come see me in a play at school, to tell me a story at bedtime, etc.
I wanted her love and affection.
Unfortunately, the words “I love you” were pretty rare during my childhood, let alone, affectionate gestures.
Then, when I was 12, she remarried. To the man of her dream, it seemed. I say that because she put his needs and emotions before hers. And certainly, before mine.
She would scold me if I made too much noise in the morning because he was still sleeping (I WAS very careful and silent !). But when I was trying to sleep, they were making loud noise with their guests in the evening, sometimes even all night.
She would be so soft, appeasing and understanding when he was upset with her. But she could be very aggressive, rude and even insulting when she was upset with me.
She would cook the very spicy food he liked while forgetting that I never could stand it.
One time, my class and I came back from a school trip. I watched as my classmates’ parents were already there to get them. On the other hand, I waited with my luggages at least a whole hour after everyone else was gone for my mother and her husband to come get me.
My mother just told me they forgot it was that day I was returning. She said that with a smile like it was funny…
She never cared to get to really know me. She only got an image of me in her mind. Still to this day.
The thing is I never came 1st for her. I wasn’t a priority. As long as I was fed, clothed and got to school, everything was good.
To her, at least.
Her husband was her number 1 person.
She always chose him.
I was never chosen by her.
As a young adult, I unconsciously repeated the same patterns with my other relationships. I was clinging to people who, like her, never chose me. I thought that if one of them actually did, it meant that I had value, that I was worthy, that I was lovable.
I didn’t realize that by acting like this, I was setting myself up to be heartbroken again and again.
Thankfully, I’ve let go of those people. It feels lonely sometimes, but then I remembered that I felt lonely with them all the same.
I’ve promised myself to never go after people who don’t want my company ever again. I’m too emotionally drained for that anyway.
Still, I can confess that even now, I can feel triggered when I think about never having been chosen. Because I gave so much of myself and in the end received nothing at all.
Such a waste of time and energy !
But I also admit that the way and the reason I seeked those relationships weren’t healthy either. I counted on them to finally give me the respect, affection and love I never really got within my family. It wasn’t fair to those people as it wasn’t their burden to bear.
It’s better to let go and never see them again.
Unfortunately, I now worry that I might not have the capacity to love.
Imagining myself being emotionally close to someone feels so…strange.
I’m just too used to not feeling connected to someone.
Too used to not being chosen.