Gold of Strength Covered in Mud of Hurt

Do you still remember when the first time someone bullied or humiliate you was? It was on my pre-school year when my seatmate is calling me names as “Elli-doro, Elli-gator.” I remembered my mom let me change to wear pajamas going to school because I stepped on a dog’s poop while I’m in uniform waiting for the carpool to arrive. Then grade school came, and gossips start to become part of the meal. Girls spread words that I flirt with boys. I don’t even remember being friends to one, all I can remember was being called attention at the principal’s office because I punched a boy classmate. It was only Angelique who helped me survive. My best friend. So we went to the same school during the first year in high school, but I decided to go to a different school after one year. I should have stayed with Angelique. Bullies in my high school years are the worst! A girl from the second year class befriended the people surrounds me. I can’t talk, and if I’m just up close to them, all I can hear was vicious insinuations with eyes rolling. One of my classmates offered me mammon, which I took for the chance to let them see I’m flexible. Not knowing that it’s already left with molds and ants. I can still remember their faces. Names. But I hold no grudge and still add them on Facebook and greet them whenever we bumped into each other. I welcome college dealing with gossips of hate because I wear makeup, dress-up and they don’t. Just simple pity comparison of differences if I remember. I grew up being bullied and picked without causing them any personal hurt. People react to how things they presume about me. By a little feeling of annoyance comes a big judgment on how their mind believes I deserve to be treated in such way of unreasonable weigh of hurtful words. I never remember of doing the same way to someone. Initiating first to backbite at someone that I hate to get sympathy and make friends out of it. But yes, I bully some girls I love, people I call friends and close to my heart. Oh, I second demotion too, giving my opinions to someone opening up their assumptions towards people. So I called it quits. I’m bad too.
I mustered to become the worst person when people picked on me. I caused someone to lose something important for the reason that he ill-treated me.
But throughout the years of suffering from pain, depression, being introvert and alone makes me find who my real friends are, I can only count them on my fingers, but I’m happy and proud for the years they’ve been there to trust and believe in me. To remind me that life is great and I am strong enough to take all those challenges I’m facing. They are just random people who hurt me through pity reasons due to time and age. But once a dork, will always be a dork. It’s just that some people are better actress these days. While I’m remaining my identity because this is all I have to say I can live without pleasing people who don’t accept the good within me. If you feel people are not welcoming even if you’re nice. It’s not the end of the world. If you feel simple words mean a lot for them to create fire against you for being real, so be it. When someone loses control, don’t bother to take control. Choosing to protect oneself doesn’t always mean to fight for your birthright or preach about human rights. To protect yourself, you need to still your thoughts at peace, no matter how people may see it chaotic. Own your heart. Treat your heart as one of your body and mind. People will always break your heart, and it will haunt all of you. Never get tired of reviving no matter how foolish you may look.

People will always have an assumption of what you deserve and not.

Stand firm to what you believe best for you, start to treat yourself the way you want others will see your worth. Listen to yourself if you feel that people ignore your voice. Respect yourself in a way you believe how respect should be given and not in a way how people label the standards for giving respect to someone. Focus on what matters most to you rather than how people see things about you. You don’t owe them an explanation, but you owe yourself contemplation.

I might be right or wrong, but this is just how I cope up with the things I let go to heal by time.

It’s been years that I don’t see any progress for me and the baby-daddy, even if I dream too much, put effort and pray to have my own family. It’s just not working. It feels like I always need to prove something before I deserve to be seen by people and treated genuinely equal. People around us always have reservations, ego to deal with and always needs approval from someone about something. My baby is confused lately to why I can’t come along with him if he’s with his dad. I always keep his word that I don’t need to be with them to avoid judgments from other people, that I’m not a good mom to my son and I don’t settle my thoughts.
Do I deserve this judgment for giving them the chance to sincerely accept things between the family I want to fight for my son? Why do I need to be someone according to what’s pleasing to them If I just can be me for my son? Besides, It’s me and my son and just him.
But even him won’t stand for what I believe, what I work hard and sacrifice to give him time to be the person he wants to be and be ready to give in to the family both he and I can have. I’m tired of dealing with his kindness if he needs something and passes responsibilities to his family as if he can’t find his own words, alone to stand for himself. I don’t want to hear his reasons and defenses, using my actions against me for the reason that I just want to be myself and be whole again from being broken. I knew myself enough and proved how I could be a mother to my son. How I stand to what I believe is right. But sometimes, what we believe is right according to society’s norm won’t be good enough for situations that 1,000 words aren’t enough to explain. April 6, 2017, is the third day he ignores my request to return my baby’s clothes, toys and milk since my son asked to stay with me, even not interested in going back to his house to continue the rest of summer vacation. For a 4-year-old boy, it’s not cute. I felt his burden. He’s even afraid to call his dad. My baby talks to me about “suntok, spank.” I know that he can’t do that literally to his son, but verbal abuse can be very distracting even if his reason likely the same as how their parents raised them. He just finds time but never makes a time to be with his son. Something that I can no longer tolerate, leading to the tendency that a lot of people are trying to be the center of my baby’s world rather than helping to create the world for my baby. The same night that my mom called his sister’s attention for help but despite for respect of age, My mom received offensive words and hound that my parents should talk to her parents to settle things up. I remember his father told me that my parents should come up to them if I want to settle up things by terms as if both their son and I can’t handle the situation. I remember telling to them that everything is up to their son, that the family I want for my baby depends on when he is ready to stand for himself not relying on anyone else. But they used it against me to justify I am still asking for my parents’ help. Well, being with his family means getting to deal with different ego inside the house and I don’t want myself to get drawn to something that weakens my self-worth.
I can’t eat my pride to please people to take place by dominating the life I want for the family I dream. Obsessing about the family I want for my son makes me forget to focus on my son.
I told my mom to cut off lines with them. If they want to talk about things to be organized, why in the world we need to knock on their door? We’re not the one who’s setting terms; we’re just waiting for their son to be man enough to sincerely stand on his own and raise family mainly between him and me without any reservations. I’m clear from the start, and they can’t seem to understand and accept the fact of priorities we need to work for our own family. If they are sincere in saying they are treating me nicely, then they need to respect the simple words I say. But we need respect. My family needs respect. Even if they say, we’re not deserving of any respect because we do not buy into what they request. Besides, We’re not married. Pushing themselves too much makes me feel to end the waiting and start to ignore and disregard their existence. The same night I see myself crying for peace and ask for the strength to be firm rather than calling their son for what his family was doing to my parents again. Being bullied, humiliated and hurt will always give us the strength to continue life and to welcome more beautiful possibilities in life.  

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