The moment I realized that nothing I do will please other people, was the moment I stopped trying.
The moment I remembered that I can’t change what people think of me, was the moment I stopped worrying about it.
People have been talking shit about me since I was born. They have been judging me and criticizing me since I can remember. And since I can remember I have been trying to please everyone around me, conforming to their ideas of what I should be, trying so hard to be perfect. I only realized later in life that
1) there is no such thing as perfect
2) I am already perfect
3) there is nothing I can do to make anyone approve of me because
4) approval comes from within oneself so
5) if “they” don’t approve of themselves, how can they ever approve of me?!
This endless effort to be approved resulted in me depleting my own energy, hurting myself physically and nearly ending my own life. It was a slow, painful death I was experiencing. Due to the lack of support, my spine began to fail, my adrenals were fatigued, my thyroid was malfunctioning, I was slowly destroying myself from inside.
Finally, one day in February 2016, I woke up. I suddenly realized that nothing I did out of love was being acknowledged. None of the efforts I had made to create a loving environment, a happy, healthy home, was being appreciated. Nothing was said to me about the meals I made, the care I took, to make a life worth living for my family. The only feedback I would receive was when I was angry, frustrated, yelling or fighting.
Violent language was understood and illicited a response. Love was totally ignored.
If I wanted to stay there, in that family relationship, I would have to continue to fight and be sick.
This was not an option for me.
So I began to turn the love I’d been giving to my family back into myself. And as soon as I began to love myself, the family began to fight me. They began to oppose me, to try and sabotage me. They wanted to commit me to a mental hospital.
So I ran away. I ran for my life.
I went somewhere that no one could touch me. I had to fly across the sea. I couldn’t care anymore of what they thought about me. I spilled the beans and told the story. Not many people have actually understood what happened with me. But I’ve left a trail for everyone to see.
Because maybe one day, someone will follow me. They may not do it publicly. But because I’ve left a trail, they’ll see. It’s not crazy to take extreme measures when the circumstances you are leaving are extremely painful and difficult.
Drastic pain calls for drastic change.
It is not my business what anyone thinks about me.
It never was.
My only mistake was trying to be what they wanted from me
Instead of trying to be what I wanted to be.
Finally, now. I can be happy.