Álvaro Bilbao
Parents are not chosen, nor is life, love or death chosen.
Everything happens as fast as when a gust of waves drags you forcefully to the bottom of the sea and you end up swallowing the whole shoal of fish that the whales eat.
My parents were two totally opposite people on their axis who enjoyed some small things in common, yet they had the same intensity of character that ended a 25-year relationship, and I "was happy".
Being happy in those circumstances may be strange, but I gained peace in a home full of disagreements and difficult discussions, although for my mother it was a little more complicated and hard when she was left in charge of a ship with a broken hull and no mast.
My father also had to start from scratch, but it was easier for him to restart a life than to continue dragging heavy things that he could no longer bear.
However, my parents are an idealized constant in my life, and many times I miss the harmonious chaos of that previous life.
First of all, I have to recognize that my experiences and attitudes are conditioned by the advice and examples of my parents, and on many occasions, although I think and meditate on how to act, what to decide, where to go, I have to break with certain learned codes of conduct that do not fit my reality or my organic personality.
However, I would have loved to have been taught how to better manage my fears and be a more practical person in life, especially because consequences such as "feeling like a failure" can lead you to suffer serious depression problems.
I needed a mother who was less harsh, more intimate and more close to me.
I had a mother present and very attentive; one of the strongest and most difficult situations for some children is maternal orphanhood, which is why I do not complain, my mother kept me as clean and neat as the peaks of Everest, and not one of my hairs dared to clash with my outfit, my protruding and deformed teeth from thumb sucking are in place today thanks to the disciplined efforts of "mi'm."
But when my mother reprimanded me, she had terrible rages that lasted at least three or four days,she was very irascible and I was very timidly worried when that happened, because I didn't know how to deal with that strong and stubborn character that took too many days to disappear.
That made me withdraw many times in my thoughts because I thought that she didn't really love me and that the only way out was to run away from home and "never again" come back.
I began to develop feelings as strong as loneliness, misunderstanding and insecurity, because the reasons for a child to feel lost and lost depend solely on their innocent emotions.
Balance,the universe is imprisoned by laws that converge in balance.
My mother was a woman of few words, for me it was always easier and simpler to talk about love and common problems with my father, because my mother lacked the appropriate sensitivity to dismantle the small knots that from time to time got stuck in her daughter's little throat.
I never understood why my mother lacked the virtue of knowing how to express her love and feelings, and that made me develop some guilt complexes, and on many occasions, not understanding the meaning of loving me more.
Learning to share a parent.
My father was/is my favorite human being, the one who was always there, the one who was able to solve all my problems, the one who always had an example to give me.
But my father who was only mine left one day.
And I lost a lot of space in his/my best moments. I lost the intimacy and privacy of our conversations because he had a new family and he didn't know how to deal meaningfully with it.
Although a good father will never stop being a good father.
I felt the absence and...I began to learn to deal alone with the discomfort that my own problems caused me, I found myself in the urgent need to look for solutions on my own.
It was really quite a process, but the immediacy of pushing away all the negative thoughts that surrounded me and insisted on driving me crazy along with a million insecurities that marked my growing up process one day said ENOUGH, because my father had taught me that there would never be a perfect solution but that some would always be better than others...and that I could do it, even if I made mistakes over and over again.
It is so common to idealize our parents and believe them to be perfect, unblemished from our position as very beloved children, that we forget that they can also make us feel angry, confused, and frustrated because they are also human beings who have very deep marks with which to deal.
This is my entry for the weekend commitment proposed by @galenkp specifically on the topic:
What do you think you needed but didn't receive from your parents and how did that affect your life? Use your own photos.
Always very grateful for your reading.
The text is entirely my own
All photos are my property
Using the Lightroom application, free version
Translation done with Deep Translate, free version.
Posted Using InLeo Alpha
