Who am I now?
I still don’t know a lot, but I do know this much about myself. I am not, nor was I ever, the ‘good little girl’ that my family wanted and expected me to be. Because of that and needing to hide it, my process of thought is that I still cannot come out and say that because if I do, then I will be left alone. I will lose the love that I am supposed to have because families are supposed to love each other or something like that. I will lose the love of my parents and I will be abandoned from my familial life. Yes, it is very childlike to think this way and I do see that, however it’s been cemented in my mind for years now.
This way of thinking actually causes issues with me being able to accept any kind of affection at first. It can take quite some time for me to get to a level where I am willing to accept affection and not think there is a reason behind it other than they want to give it to me. It’s challenging to let affection in and it’s something that I’m going to have to work on. It feels wrong to me, like I don’t deserve it. I didn’t get it from my family really at all that I can remember. I didn’t get it from my parents. I didn’t get it from either of them and the question was asked who did I want it from most. I honestly can’t remember any more because I got it into my head that it didn’t matter because I wasn’t going to get it.
If I think about it more, I am unsure that I wanted to get this kind of affection from my mother. Her and I do not mesh at all. It’s not oil and water, it’s basically gasoline and gasoline. Our relationship for the most part has been marked with explosions and an inability to see eye to eye. She has never been able to understand who I am/wanted to be. I have yet to be able to understand where she is coming from with anything that she has done or said. We have never been able to understand each other. My teenage years were… difficult on both of us. I couldn’t stand her and as she has said in the last year, she couldn’t stand me. That hasn’t really changed.
I think I may have wanted affection from my father. It was fine when I was really little. He and I would roughhouse and play. It was fun. I enjoyed it. I was an only child, so in some ways my father was my playmate. I am so much like my father that it isn’t funny at all. It’s amusing to look at him and I, because I am growing up to be like him. I look like him, I talk like him, I share the same mannerisms as him. But, because I was not born as a male in body, the roughhousing had to stop. The way we played had to stop. You can’t roughhouse and play with a little girl the way we would. It just wasn’t allowed. It just wasn’t right.
And so it stopped. It stopped without any explanation to me. It just ended. I would try to play and I would get brushed off. I would be ignored. Suddenly I was without a playmate and I didn’t know why. I felt abandoned. I didn’t know what I did to lose my father’s attention. He was never distant or really cold toward me, but I kept not understanding why we couldn’t continue to play the way we had been. Maybe I did something wrong was the only thing I could think of. It’s something that has followed me since.