I have been called difficult, looser, a nothing, weak, a dirt bag, slimeball, a disappointment, pee brane, waste of space, different, odd, loud, a dolt, not smart, stupid, dumb, dumbass, special, sped, challaged, backwards, emotionally challenged, sensitive, volitital, fragile, unable, uncaring, dangerous, creepy, scary, lazy, good for nothing, rascle, baby and old man by people who love me. The first one hurt the most and being called a looser and a nothing by someone who loves me was crushing. She apologized and wishes she had never said it, but at the time she was right. I was grieving, down and out, done in, fired, and had brought it all on myself with my inability to cope with my pain. These sort of things stay with you. Especially if you agree with them.
The truth hurts, but it also heals. The people who said those things love me. None of them left or gave up on me or told me to leave. Those same people have called me a winner and someone special, a great dad, an inspiration, a motivator, friend and brother, smart, talented, funny, loving, caring, hard working, strong. Hearing these thing feels great, but believing these things about myself is hard.
Truth is they hurt too. They hurt because I think how could such nice things be true about someone as flawed as me. Truth is they hurt because they are true. Truth is it hurts.
No comments:
Post a Comment