No one likes to hear the truth. No one wants to be hurt. No one wants to be caught.
In life things happened and we have to deal with the fall out no matter how sad, angry, hurtful or psychotic we become. There is no excuse in the world to keep some of the most important secrets to ourselves. Keeping secrets will always come out one way or another. It’s just a matter of time.
Keeping secrets will forever make us or break us.
Learning from past experiences has taught us to be wise in our age as we go on with life. Yet, we always manage to screw our life up no matter how many changes we had planned or doing.
Long ago, I have always bottled up my emotions because I have never thought about myself. I never valued my talents, my accomplishments or put forth any goals because I had no purpose in life or the motivations to move forward. I kept thinking that no matter how much I had accomplished, something would trigger a positive reaction from my mother. Her approval and acceptance made the world to me because it would at least give me a sign that she was proud of me in some way shape or form. This is one of the many kept secrets I have buried inside my heart. Today, I have managed to forgive and forget all the unintentional hurt feelings regardless if she knew it or not. She is after all, my mother and I do understand how much she appreciates and loves me.
I’ve never truly understood my mother while growing up. As a second oldest daughter, I was literally stuck with the little ones and had no childhood of my own. Since my parent’s divorce, I was the babysitter for twenty plus years and counting. Life as I new it then, was pretty much over for me when I just watched all my friends have the normal fun and adventure. I would head on to school, come home do my homework, work if I was scheduled and then was stuck babysitting while mom was at work. I’m pretty sure, I wasn’t the only one stuck in the same situation; we’ve all read it from Kao Kalia Yang’s The Latehomecomer.
Cliff notes version: I was never really appreciated for all the things that I have done for the family. It doesn’t matter how I’ve done it, but the little things always matter and it still counts despite everything else. Like everyone else, we all crave love and affection. And the void I have felt for so many years is love. That’s my secret.
Writing was a form of coping mechanism that helped me jumble through my inner demons.
Literally! I wrote poetry, essays, book reports, unfinished novels and not once had I shared my writing habits to anyone until I started my second blog.
I wrote constantly for many years in my journals to the point that I burned them all in order to say goodbye to the old me.
There were two instances in my life where I was confronted about my true feelings. The first time was during camp, where my sisters were talking about Jesus and God; about the Bible. They really dug deep into my heart and asked me why I haven’t fully converted. And my reply was because I felt cold and empty, which was true.
The second instance was when I had dinner with my Pastor’s wife. The only person who has ever seen through my heart. She took me aside one day, we talked and she revealed all my hidden secrets onto the table. I didn’t know how she did it, but she knew. She saw right through me and that was the first time I cried so much to the point where I finally confessed with a sincere heart to the Lord to save me.
I didn’t want to live like that again.