unpack it

That’s what I was told. Unpack it. Unpack the childhood you’ve so perfectly tucked away. Easier said than done.

For years, I was able to ignore my past. Its like my brain deleted every memory. When you stop talking about things, especially out loud, it can be easy to forget theres trauma there. Until someone asks about it, anyway.

When I’m in a position where I have to discuss my childhood, I burst into tears. I wish that was an overstatement, but its not. I’ve gotten very good at keeping conversations about my family short and to the point. It’s really easy to say things like “I grew up in a big family”, “we we’re poor” its not easy to say that sometimes he would hit me so hard in the face my gums would bleed.

So, I don’t. That worked for a while. Then I had Silas.

Becoming a mother changes you. In ways you aren’t prepared for. I’ve been forced to acknowledge what we went through was not okay every time I look at my son. How could my parents do that to their own children when I would rather die than have Silas feel pain.

I’m angry for my former self and I’m sad for my current self. I am the most overly critical person when it comes to my parenting. How can I be a good parent when I never witnessed one myself? I don’t have anyone to call to ask, either. I am raising a son without my own parents or village, and thats okay, but i will never be confident I am doing it right.

So thats how I ended up here. Painful memories keep coming to the surface simply being a mom, so lets talk about it. Not today though, thats enough for now.

S