Restricted Love

I just realised that I have learned to love on restriction. I am sharing this from the conclusion because I just got it. At 31, it's about time, don't ya think?

So let me take you back so this all makes sense and then I'll get into the forward moving bit, cool? Let's go!

So as the second child of five in my household, I learned early that I had to withhold myself. The sibling that followed me is literally a year and some change younger and has always been more of the needy type. Where did that leave baby me? Quiet and waiting her turn, which never really came. With a mother who spent most of her time at work, in some community organisation or another, and a father who worked away all the time, many think our childhood blessed because we had both parents, but mum never tried to be there and well, "daddy wasn't there."

With a birthday landing three days before what some people call Christmas, I often got people deciding not to acknowledge this separate and special occasion that everybody else got the courtesy of being able to enjoy. I got shafted with "joint presents" or the year round excuse from my mother, "I don't have much money because it's Christmas honey..."

As though I had forgotten that she told me this last year and because I didn't kick and scream in rebellion, it was just whatever.

Some distinct words I remember as a child: "You don't want to be a burden to people so you must make sure you be a good girl."

"Yes mum." With that, I never spoke too loudly, if at all. I learned things quickly, sang all the words properly. I didn't cause trouble or even tell a teacher when I got beaten up by a boy that time. All my good deeds and I still couldn't get even a little birthday present...?

Now that I have created a full and colourful view of my upbringing, let's move on to my friends...

I always had a best friend, mostly because I was a very good listener. I was very quiet and very shy, but also very intelligent and loved words. So my best friend could always tell me their problems and secrets and I could formulate the words, arranging them so beautifully in order to soothe my friend and make them feel better. I took pride in being able to do that. I felt useful and appreciated. I had the words to rise to every occasion. Of course being so low-key and more of a support system than having my friendship reciprocated, I was also replaced. I never wanted to seem jealous, so when a new friend would come onto the scene, I never complained, and those so-called best friends were gone with the wind.

Let's get into these boys now.

To this day, I can't say that I have had many legitimate relationships with boys for one reason or another, but will briefly include the significant situations.

My first boyfriend was a secret because I was 16 and he lived in London, 19. We "met" in an online chatroom. I could tell him anything and everything and it was OK. He listened to me and I listened to him and I didn't have to worry about anything. So, a new year rolls in and a birthday passes. My boyfriend revealed to me that he was really 23. I had to let him go.

Then there was the idiot. He was an idiot. He lied constantly to me and would use manipulation to get me to buy him things I couldn't afford to buy for myself. Eventually, I dumped him too.

Fast forward to the fool at uni—he was the fool. I was at uni. He was already in a relationship but pursued me anyway. We texted then spoke a lot. He was a wordsmith like me so I was always intrigued at what he was going to say and how he would respond. Then one day some random girl calls my number. The long and short: I was the other woman. I called an end to it. Can you believe this fool still tried to pursue me? I was done.

Then there was the dude. When we met it was instant chemistry and we experimented all. night. long, and most of the next day. We had great results. This encounter lasted FAR TOO LONG and got even more confusing. So when my feelings changed, I asked if his did, and the best he could muster was, "I really care about you." Oh yeh, I was done.

Back to the life stuff. We're jumping back slightly to come forward, stay with me folks.

So uni rolls around and I am free because I don't live at home. Well at least not for three years. This was the best and the worst because, the world is harsh, especially when you're in a new and unfamiliar environment, and as a black female amongst mostly white people, I learned what overt and subtle racism looked and felt like; about being constantly and consistently stabbed in the back whilst people lied in my face. I actually thought I was having a funny turn because what I knew and what people were telling me was in direct conflict and as usual, I questioned myself. I think this time in my life was the proverbial hair that broke the camels back.

I would come home and feel some distant and short-lived sense of relief for being back in a safe environment. Let's not forget that I left in the first place, so its clear this was really no bed of roses but I didn't have to curb myself at home. I didn't always feel that sense of fear, like my life was in danger all he time.

So one time I came home and I exploded. I mean I erupted. Is there any bigger expression of the same thing? Because I did that too. I said things I had longed to say, I screamed it at the top of my lungs. I actually understood the term "top of the lungs" this day too. I screamed it out so hard and with so much emotion that I sounded like a cross between and heavy smoker and a bleating sheep. I screamed and wailed and released. I really don't think my family knew I felt this way, or that it was ever that bad, but this was confirmation if not, a wake [the f*ck] up call. I was done being quiet and keeping it all in, never asking or seeking help and being left to muddle through life as though I already had the answers. I'm intelligent dammit but I don't know everything. OK?!

Breathe.

So I was done with the madness and uni was coming to an end, which was great because, as I announced to my entire postcode that fateful day, "..this sh*t was killing me" and from what I now know about stress, it really was. I didn't want to be restricted anymore. I wanted out. I wanted freedom. Though it would be great to say everything was different afterwards, even though it kinda was, this was only the beginning.

So, what has or needs to change going forward?

Allow myself to analyse myself.

All of my close or so-called significant relationships have been based on conditions, which really were restrictions, in all the ways I should be able to love. From being a child having my most significant and primary sources of love restricted, to accepting the restrictions placed on chosen relationships. I have not taken the opportunity to express my true and full feelings, nor have I required someone to reciprocate the support I have offered. I have been the dependent in the relationships whilst acting like the hero and the two simply do not correlate.

Going forward, I have some declarations, affirmations, and conclusions to make. Perhaps you can use them if you need them too;

I must state my own intentions.

I will not blame the relationships of my past to define my relationships going forward.

I am not the victim of those past relationships.

I forgive myself

I will not be afraid of expressing my feelings or spare the feelings of other people to disallow my own.

I deserve to love and be loved...

I will not accept unhealthy restrictions on the love I receive.

I choose to love out loud.

MayaDivine

Here's one way to express the need and necessity of spreading more love all over the place. Get yours today!!!