the bevolution

The moment that kept coming to mind, the moment she analyzed over and over, was the first time she felt her heart break. She couldn’t help but think that moment was holding her back somehow.

They were standing in the kitchen. He was hurting and he needed her to hold it. That was always easier to use as an explanation than he just didn’t like her a whole lot and didn’t want her there.

She had stopped getting mad, though. She wouldn’t fight a dying man, and it pissed him off. He kept hitting her with his words, and she wouldn’t go down. Feeling her love for him was far more important than feeling her hurt at that moment. What he didn’t know was that he brought her to her knees, because it didn’t happen until he left the room.

That’s how it had always been.

She always knew she wasn’t wanted. The signs and promises of love were all around her, the words were said at appropriate times. Because, of course they loved her, they were her family. Also, there was something wrong with her. She was ugly and fat, actually dumb enough to be two people. She was too slow and nobody wanted to spend time with her, she was too loud and messy and clumsy, and noboby else wanted her to play with them, either. Even if they said otherwise, they were just being polite.

She learned that she should be invisible, until or unless she could be of service.

So she reveled in the service. That was when she had worth. Hand over the screw driver, stir this, press that, hold these, stand here, shine the light there, no, no, no, you’re doing it wrong, go away. At least until you can help with something else.

They laughed a lot, though. She learned she could be of use when there was someone else in the room. So many funny stories to tell. Is it ridicule if it is said to entertain? That didn’t matter, she was a willing participant in her mockery. That was the time she was most wanted and valued by him. And so, by others as well.

This affected her in ways she couldn’t comprehend back then. It wasn’t that her feelings were hurt, it was that these foundational, fundamental lessons became the structure of her subconcious. She could have value, if she earned it. Eventually she learned she could get it on credit; she could beg for it, or she could even steal it; mostly she just borrowed and gave it back. As she thanked them for their tolerance.

It didn’t matter, because she didn’t matter. Over and over, she was reminded, deep down in her soul, that she was less. She knew it, everyone who knew her knew it, those who didn’t know her yet would eventually learn it.

Until the day she let it out. It came to the surface, and she questioned it. Shame. She looked at it differently then. She was kind to it, she made friends with it. And when she learned to love it, she was able to let others love it, too. When she found the reason for it, she trusted it.

All in, right?

The problem was still in receiving love she didn’t earn. Then there was the giver. He told her he loved her, and all she needed to do was receive.

But what happens when a giver is not allowed to give, a helper not allowed to help? Nothing good can come of that.

She soldiered on, proud of herself, her faith in them, proud of overcoming, of healing, proud of loving, of allowing herself to be loved. Through thick and thin.

Until the moment

Her heart broke again.

And suddently she had a new moment to hold her back.

Written October 7, 2023 3:47pm