When You’re Told You’re Impossible To Love
They told me I was hard to love, and I believed these lies for the longest time
My family told me I was hard to love, impossible even, and I believed them.
When I started working in my first career, I apologized so consistently that friends noticed and told me I shouldn’t say sorry so often. I still joke that if a mistake is made and no one takes the blame for it, I’ll step up and take it. I never minded being reprimanded or being blamed for things; I didn’t have to be right for certain things since the world is a multitude of grey instead of black and white.
You gather a lot of strength when you start to unwrite the narrative you’re told your entire life to believe.
I had a rough go of it as a child at an incredibly young age. I knew before kids should understand that a quiet child was a loved one, so I chose not to talk. I had a speech impediment, and so when I did talk, I got teased by family and students alike. Not talking felt less painful, and my family seemed to love me more if I didn’t make noise.
It seems rather funny and ironic that I then became a person who competes in speech, storytelling, and poetry competitions. I choose to use my voice when I stop apologizing for it to tell my stories that lead me to…
