The Lessons of Unburdening

I am working on a novel, but I am also working on a series of essays about my life and lessons. This is one of the essays. It still needs some polishing, but I think it needs to get some air. Enjoy!

Unburdening. Let’s talk about burdens. First, how do we define burden. Merriam-Webster defines burden as the following: 

Burden //noun //bur·​den

1. something that is carried 

   1. DUTY, RESPONSIBILITY

2.  something oppressive or worrisome

For me, burden is what I’ve felt and sometimes continue to feel I am. 

And this feeling of burden began at home. It is what I’ve felt my mom always felt about me. 

Before I begin down this complicated path of feelings and understanding with you all, it has to be said.

I’ve known and always have known that I was loved, but wanted…well not so much. 

Deep down, I always felt that I was an impediment to my mother’s success. Now, to me my mother is one of the most successful people I know. She joined the Air Force, put herself through school while having a baby strapped to her, left a marriage that no longer served her, and chartered her own path. 

But we know how the people closest to you see you isn’t always how you see yourself, and this is where we begin. 

If I wasn’t born, my mom could have done this, seen that, been there, not married my father - but she had me and being a mom came before all else. That sacrifice made me who I am today. Strong willed, independent, spirited, and driven. I am thankful for it all. 

The late nights and early mornings. The rushing from cheer to theater to student org groups became my life so it naturally became her life too. I was a very involved child which turned me into a very involved adult. I was all consuming. If I loved something, I dove in. I was and am relentless with my pursuits. 

Always searching for the deeper truths of the world which lead me to finding deeper truths within myself. Those truths I’ve learned are never by happenstance, but by a destiny that was woven into the fabric of my life before I took my first breath. I deeply believe it is on us to explore and learn what those truths are and unpack those truths no matter how uncomfortable…and it can become really uncomfortable.

I learned that stability is what my mother looked for, but in the search for that stability came at the expense of her own deep insecurities of the life she provided for her child versus the life she did not and would not have. This sense of stability has morphed into many ways after deep reflection of my own life especially in relationships. Unbeknownst to me in the moment but deeply in my subconscious I chose partners whose parents were still married with the 2.5 kids and the idyllic white picket fence. Although I have liked my partners, some I even loved -I realized that my womb trauma passed to me was the urge for a stable and committed partner. This is something my mother did not have. I love my father but commitment to one woman was not his ministry. To be honest, I do not think it ever will be. He was a provider and to him that was a role more important than any other and one he learned from his own father to excel at. But that lack of unfaithfulness and commitment, does not lead to stability. It leads to chaos, hurt, and confusion turning into a storm for anyone who enters your orbit.

There is nothing wrong with wanting stability. We should all have stability. I think as humans we crave it; however, it became clear to me I needed to choose real stability instead of the appearance of stability. Real happiness versus manufactured happiness we put on display to appease others instead of appeasing ourselves. 

Commitment. 

Real commitment requires sacrifices and contentment for who, what, and where you are and not looking for the next big move or a “better” partner. Stability takes being rooted in your own garden and nourishing the lush greens underneath you even if there are a few brown patches here and there that need tending. 

This want and need for stability took me down a path to discover more residing within my own lineage and my mother’s to understand her more (see: In Their Gardens). After I traveled down the road unknown, I still was consumed by a sea of questions and concerns. Healing is messy, necessary work and it can be all consuming if you allow it. It can take you down roads you might not be ready to go or unaware where it will lead you. 

I’ve carried a lot of this in my life. The unwanted feeling of being a burden or unburdening myself to another meant a violation somehow. How dare I bring all the drama and energy to another person who didn’t ask for this or has their own strifes in life?

This has honestly made it difficult for me to get close or truly commit in a real way in relationships, romantic or otherwise. Allowing someone to see all your mess and your family’s mess is a very intimate action especially if you have deep family trauma. 

Before I go down this rabbit hole of how I constantly feel like I am in the juxtaposition of voicing my emotions and valid feelings and the ingrained ideals of  respecting one's elders especially your parents, I began to ask myself the question What happens when your elders do not respect you?

Boundaries is a buzzword nowadays, but it is a real need. How do you leave room for unburdening when your boundaries aren’t even respected?

You understand your parents make sacrifices for you, but you also remember parents were tasked with the duty of sacrifice not the duty of suffering. 

It felt as if my mother was a martyr, and I should be a thankful indentured servant to her sufferings and love for the remainder of my life to her very exacting standards of praise. Complaints do not have a place in the temple she has built around her deeds. 

Thoughts or questions or the suggestion of overstepping boundaries is out of the question here. As if, unconditional love and respect mean no corrections to harmful and abusive behavior. Boundaries then in the world she has created should not exist, but I say they must in order to heal. 

Boundary setting has been a massive problem for me even in adulthood because I believe I wasn’t allowed to have them. My lack of boundaries equaled more affection and praise in childhood even if my peace and emotional safety was compromised. 

I recognize many of our friction began as I started becoming my own person. Right around the end of middle school as I began to actively make choices for myself like choosing the high school I would attend. In Baltimore, we had the option to go to your local high school, test into some of the better schools in the city, or attend private institutions, if you had the financial means. 

My mother really wanted me to be more invested in math and sciences but that wasn’t her child. She forced me to tour a school literally dedicated to math and sciences. My disdain for this was evident. Of course, I was being a brat on the tour - I was 13 and hated every minute. I was polite, but I was not excited at all. Instead of listening to my concerns, I was called an ungrateful bitch that should be so thankful this was my opportunity because my mother wasn’t so fortunate to have this opportunity. I was in shock. 

To add context, my mother was more than my mom, she was my best friend at this point. We used to watch all the movies together from Bend It Like Beckham to What A Girl Wants, stay up and play all the board games (we had a closet full of games from Clue to Life), and just cuddle together. This best friend also taught me that just because someone loves you doesn’t mean they can disrespect you, including herself. My mother always taught me to tell her the truth and my opinions especially if I felt like it wasn’t right. 

Going back to the moment in the tour, I cried hard. I felt confused. Hurt. Misunderstood. Mislead. How could my mother…My best friend say this to me? I silently cried the whole car ride home. Later that day, I heard my mother downstairs crying to her boyfriend that she wished she had another child. One that was more grateful than me. 

That broke me. I cried in my room and never spoke of it again. 

Fast forward to  many years of breaking trust and boundaries from cutting off my cell phone, locking me out of my familial home, stealing my work laptop, car, and telling my boss I was liar and not to be trust, I finally broke this invisible string that tethered myself to this series of abuse and hurt. 

As a way to protect myself, my barriers started to build around my heart like a fortress. I placed all my trust in my best friend of over 20+ years and even then I had a wall around my emotions. 

I had to present and be perfect. Dark humor to disguise my pain and mask it in comedy, but if we are being honest it gave greek tragedy. I was in a relationship, and I truly thought I was doing the most incredible job of hiding in plain sight of the pain and sadness that was drowning me internally. 

I thought if I stayed busy and remained tough, I wouldn’t and couldn’t break because what I knew was that if I finally let everything that was contained inside me, I may not be able to make it. I would be sucked into a whirlpool of emotions that I would drown in and not make it out. 

I truly didn’t know if I let it all out I wouldn’t be strong enough to handle the massive weight. 

What I didn’t realize was that the weight I felt was so massive was not only my weight but the generations of women in my family who couldn’t let the weight go. 

I signed up for therapy after a severe meltdown. We are talking wet, hot, steamy, snotty tears. 

Panic attack levels. 

I’ll be honest I thought therapy was for romantic relationship healing, not to deal with your issues with your mother wounds. I realized in those sessions, I inherited a lot of pain that was known but never spoken of in my family. The women in my family could not let themselves to breakdown because let me be clear, it is a privilege to do so. It is a privilege to take the time to unpack your inner hurts and emotions. The matriarchs in my family had to hold down the fort. They had to keep the family together and homes intact through all the pain and hurt they have had to hold onto.

As my therapy continued, I realized anger was a reaction but it wasn’t a true emotion. I was disappointed, conflicted, confused, embarrassed, and so very sad. What did the disintegration of our relationship mean for the future and life I had planned out for myself? What do I tell people about our relationship when they ask about her? Do I say the truth or just pretend?

I realized in therapy, I need to start unburdening people and society’s standards on my life and how I show up for myself. Through my continuing healing journey, is my mother, my father…they are only humans. They did what they could and they themselves did not have the tools and/or ability to give me what I am and was seeking. In many ways, their inner childs are still looking to be validated, seen, heard, and loved. They also deserve healing, but that healing can not be done unless it is a true desire. Recognizing this, honoring my boundaries and feelings, and equipped with the tools to identify my triggers and emotions, I had a decision to make on how to move forward in my life to heal myself and my future generations. 

The choice and realization became this: I know I am not a burden to others. I know I am worthy of love that is not conditional of abuse to my boundaries or emotions. I have the right to say when someone deeply hurts me, and if they can not honor my emotions then I can not have them in my life. If they will not seek healing for themselves to be in my life, that is also okay but that comes with the consequence that they will not have access to my life. 

Let me be clear, this is and was hard, but not honoring myself was harder. Breaking generational trauma and burdens are difficult and for the one doing the breaking it can be soul crushing. You are trying the fabrics of your family tapestry bit by bit until you unravel to the root of the hidden secrets and insecurities woven into your family line. 

As I write this I am, healing these deep wounds that have been afflicted on the women of my family is a task I don’t take lightly. It is needed though. I read once, that you were inside your grandmother’s womb when she carried your mother (if you are a woman that is). This sat with me throughout therapy. I think about all the hurt, anguish, joy, and so many other emotions I can not even fathom are carried down a matriarchal line.

I relish in the ability and privilege I have to do the act of unburdening for my lineage. It is not easy, but this radical healing and acceptance is a joy birthed from pain…yes, but joy nonetheless with my conquering spirit. 

Besides this essay being for myself, it is also for you. You are not alone. You are seen. You are loved. You are not a burden. Grow and be the person you wished you had in your life.

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See ya in two weeks with the OG format of the Whiskey Fix!