its amazing how life can be so brilliant and shiny. full of effervescent giggles and tingling sensations. That warm growing glow in your chest. That loving embrace of living everyday presently…
and yet there are still things that come by and by and make you stumble
A man that looks like the rapist.
Fear of success.
the deep rooted disbelief in one self.
a childhood of psychological abuse unraveling.
I was tested on like a mouse.
prodded like cattle
shown and inspected for my capabilities as the county fair.
I am only valued for my intelligence and earning potential. Stability. Resilience in the face of adversity.
Marginalized populations become self cannibalizing. Destroying ourselves with the kindled flames of bigots and oppressors.
Deprivation is written into my DNA.
My skin crawls with the murders of my ancestors.
I am painted in shades of anti-Semitism and misogyny
Burning with the abuse that has transpired generations.
I am guilty for existing. Because everyday I come closer to my pre-determined damnation. Everyday is a waste of time and space.
I didn’t realize how severe the intellectual masturbation was. How much damage was caused by being measured and weighed for my intellect. How much I had to hide my pride and joy in something that would offend my dyslexic Brother and insecure mother.
I cant celebrate who I am because each time I have been proud I have received physical pain….
Each time I admit I’m good at something, it’s detrimental to Brother’s self esteem and cause him to lash out—physically, verbally, violently.
I have been punished for the formative years of my life for simply being me. For enjoying reading when Brother couldn’t. For getting good grades when he struggled. For being termed “gifted” at an early age while he went to rudimentary classes…
How much of my life has been determined by how my parents compared our intelligences and accomplishments? And then the fall out?
I’m crying. I’m crying for all the times I couldnt love myself. Be happy for myself. Because we had to be considerate of Brother. I had to make sure he wouldn’t hurt me or Baby. I had to be more than ordinary but never extraordinary. And any accomplishment I did had meant nothing….