So I've been writing journals for years now and I thought it would be interesting to post some of my entries and hear what you guys think.
I am not gonna post them all..
Some entries are gonna get deep and some are not.
They are numbered according t...
My entire life people have always expressed their love for their parents. It was never something I questioned. When I turned 15 so much in my life changed - of those were my relationship with my parents - and I began to have doubts. Do I really love my parents? Is it really such a natural and normal thing to do, without question? Or is it just what is expected of me and therefore I feel that way?
A reaction from the outside world is always "They have supported you since you were a kid and they love you!" Do they? How could you possibly know if they loved me or not?
As a teenager, it's not odd to get into arguments with your parents. However, warm moments do make up for them, right? Or do they?
For a whole year, I expressed to people that I hated my parents. People didn't get it and it wasn't something I could explain either, since it was so frowned upon – and because I held mch information back. Normally after a school day, everyone would hurry away while I took my time packing my bag or just ended up staying in the school for another hour or so. Because going home was the last thing I wanted to do. I couldn't explain that either. Though, in some way I know I'm not the only one feeling like this. For some, the fight lasts a couple of days. For others, it's a phase and there's those whom have had that hateful feeling throughout their entire lives.
Then there is that one friend that reminds you of your good moments with your parent. Like when we travelled to Turkey last year. It was as if my mom had kind of realized that I had been very distant throughout the year. It was like there had been so many arguments that it hadn't only affected me, but her as well. We were walking in a park, my mom, my sister and I - along with the rest of the family - wrapped up in a blanket; we walked around, talking and actually having fun. That night, it was so hard for me to hate her. I felt like - at some point - I was forcing myself... reminding myself of all anger that normally flowed through my veins. It was like those moments you read about in books or watch in movies, where the couple breaks up but stay friends and they have to make sure they stay that way. It annoyed me so much that I was starting to crumble, that I was letting my guard down because of one warm touch. It may sound weird, but I had walked around for almost 2 years and built a wall around myself to keep my distance, to keep the arguments a distance away.
How can it be, that when your parents hurt you, a hug - or an "I'm sorry"- is enough to forgive them? Or if they are like my parents - nothing at all - just pretending nothing happened. However, when it's a friend, you stop talking to them for 3 weeks before you forgive each other – or maybe you just cut contact. Isn't it a bit weird? Or am I the only one thinking that much about it? I believe I could be.
When I look back and attempt to find all the negative things that have affected me and sculpted me into who I am today, the list becomes complicated. However, a good friend reminded of the long list filled with good memories. That kind of shows how easily feelings can be manipulated with. I always looked passed her words - 'cause she doesn't know what I've been through with them - though if it wasn't for her I would probably still hate them. I wouldn't have gotten the chance to tell them how much they actually had hurt me. It didn't change much, but it showed me that I would never be able to fully love them again.
Today I don't hate my parents, neither do I love them. I care for them and - no matter how much I hate it - I probably always will.
I care for them and they care for me. That's it.
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