Someone Else Will

When I first moved back home, I had to stay with my dad and his girlfriend until I could get my ducks in a row. Things were stressful to say the least. After weeks of building frustrations around the house, my dad and I finally got into our first fight in over ten years. Screaming at the top of our lungs at each other in the front yard. Me, wondering why even my father didn’t care about what I was going through or what I was feeling, and him wondering why I was upset that after 10 years, I couldn’t sit down and have a conversation with my dad without his gf throwing an absolute tantrum.

After a couple anxiety attacks, and me losing my temper for the first time in a couple years, he said to me “You think this is what I wanted?”.

So, I looked at him and said “Dad, I have thought about myself dead every single day for the last 6 months. I came home hoping and praying that maybe I could find a few pieces of me that were missing, just getting to be around people who supposedly love me. You think this is what I wanted?”.

Then, in all his glory he said, “Stop. How could you even be that selfish?”

Selfish. Okay cool. Thanks dad.

I’m glad that I just revealed the darkest part of myself to you, for you to tell me how selfish I am.

I’m glad that I trusted you with my pain, for you to immediately invalidate it.

I’m glad that I discovered once and for all that the people you think should care, and understand, and be there for you, probably won’t be.

I’m glad that my trauma, and my pain, is so uncomfortable for YOU that its easier for you to tell me I’m selfish, then it is for you to sit down and help me work through it.

But mostly I learned that it’s okay.

It’s okay for someone to not understand your pain and trauma, because there is someone else that will.

There is someone else that will sit in that hurt with you, while you gather up all your broken pieces, and cradle your hands softly in theirs to ease the trembling while you slowly put them back together. Sure, you might be missing a couple pieces here and there, but that’s okay too. That just means there is a little more growing room. Room to grow into something, and someone, you never imagined possible.

So today, I want you to know that it is okay to feel like you are alone, but you aren’t.

To feel like no one is listening, because someone is.

To feel like none of the people you love really care, because they do.

But today I also want you to show them the same kindness and understanding that you want from them.

Maybe they do care, but they are struggling with their own feelings and emotions that they can’t express. Maybe the reason they call you selfish is because the idea of losing you is so tragic to them, that in their mind it trumps everything you are feeling. Or maybe, it’s because you voicing your trauma forces them to take responsibility for their own wrong doings.

Whatever the case may be, I want you to know that you voicing your trauma, and your pain, is not in the least bit selfish, and it is okay for the people you want to understand, to not understand, because there is someone else that will.

So, if you need someone to listen, I will.