“You should wear brighter colored clothes, like you did in Sunday School. All this black is making you look depressed. You were so happy as a child.”
And the Emmy goes to……. Me.
*sighs* My mother….
Delusional enough to assume that me having a favorite color, which is not HERS is what makes me “look” depressed.
MANY things can send me in a downward spiral. My choice of clothing is not one of them. I happen to love black, but it is by no means the only thing I wear. It’s just the only one she chooses to complain about.
As a child, most of my clothing was handmade. Cult living doesn’t really procure much in the ways of financial comfortability. If you were lucky, not all of your clothing was a hand-me-down from an older sibling. Black was forbidden, except for mourning.
My parents are the king and queen of gas lighting. If asked, they will both tell you that I had a completely wonderful childhood. While 1% of that is perhaps true, the rest is nothing more than a fantasy delusion they’ve chose to make up, in order to make themselves look like they were better parents.
The only ‘nurturing’ I received as a child, from my parents, was a vicious fear of going to hell and having my flesh burned from my body for an eternity.
And yet, they are still involved in my life. I spend a lot of time answering the question of why.
My father is a church deacon. Our conversations are spent primarily with me rolling my eyes so much it becomes almost as painful as listening to him try and pray for me. He’s been locked in a battle with cancer for over a year now, because praying has yet to cure him.
My mother is completely reliant on the income she earns working for me.
I could have easily turned this into a control issue with my parents, but alas, I am not them. They gave me life. Despite all their efforts to keep me a horribly fearful, mousey wallflower, meant to obey, I turned out okay. I LEARNED from a sordid upbringing.
I learned exactly who and what I did not want to be.
I have seen the same out of many of the friends I’ve made in the past few years. I have learned that I am not alone. It’s not always a ‘parent’ issue. But it IS always a ‘life’ issue.
Many of us have bore the brunt of the worst humankind has to offer. And it has made us kinder humans.
Dance in the rain.
Disobey the rules once in awhile.
Embrace the imperfect that is you.
Do the things that make your little heart happy.
Above all else..
Just be good. The world will follow.