There are the times where i look back on myself as a child and I weep. I am saddened by the assumptions I made from the actions of my parents. I mourn for the child that got lost along the way. I was so loving, caring, emotional, free-spirited. I wanted to do nothing more than love and be loved. Why couldn't life just be that easy. I was shut down repeatedly by my parents, specifically my mom.
I don't blame her, though. I cry for her as much as I cry for me because i know she was raised by strict parents from the Caribbean. They themselves, as she explained to me just last week had rough upbringings: grandma wasn't wanted by her parents and given up by a nasty split-tongued mother that was biracial back when it wasn't cool. grandpa was raised by a dictator father with an iron fist and too many children to know what to do with.
So, that loveless bond was passed down from generation to generation, almost guaranteed to be passed down when packaged with "Do as I say, not as I do" "Don't question your parents" and "Because I said so". Thankfully along with that bottomless heart, God blessed me with an uncanny sense of smell for bullshit and the courage to speak up (when you're far enough away NOT to get backslapped). As I got older, I questioned my parents when things didn't add up, but by that time it was too late: the scar tissue had grown over my heart. I've been picking it off the last few years. it took a while for me to start the process of breaking myself to build myself back up. It's not easy.