In Which Burdens are Disclosed
December 1, 2005 | permalink

Ever since I was a kid, I wanted to be someone else. Not in a casual I-want-to-be-an-astronaut way, but in a Jesus-I-wish-I-was-anyone-but-me way. I daydreamed a lot, and read a lot, and was generally lost inside my head as often as possible. I realized that a great deal of the self-loathing that I was writing about the other day is an extension of this long held desire to be someone else. And I realized where it comes from.

When I was born, my Father was on the brink of suicide. My birth was the reason that he decided not to end his life. I know this because he told me, many times. Not recently, the way that parents will share things with you as you get older, but when I was a child. For as long as I can remember, I have been aware that I saved my Father's life; that I was his best friend and the only person that he trusted.

I couldn't deal with that burden. Here I was, five years old, responisble for my Father's life, for the existence of my family. Somewhere in my mind, I believed that I had to be the best, or it would all fall apart. It was too much for me. I have never felt worthy of that responsibility. I set impossible standards for myself, and I lived in fear of falling short (which of course I did; no one could have met the expectations I imposed... still impose... on myself). I feel unworthy and inadequate to this day, and fear failing those that count on me so much...

Posted in Family Matters & Growing Up & Musings
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In Which I Give Myself a Reality Check is the next entry.

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