I talked with my mom last week when she stayed with me and asked her: why do I give others the impression that they want to take care of me?
I mentioned a few examples, like my coach in GLÖD (a magazine that is now cancelled) when I was 18. She said: you feel so sympathetic, like I want to take care of you.
Mom answered and said: If a person don't know you, then you're giving the impression of being clueless and naive.
I then realized that it's true. Many people on like Facebook that I've talked to always have a tendency to undermine my experiences.
If you get to know me, you will notice right away that no one needs to take care of me. I'm a survivor, a fighter and the heroine of my own story. I'm not a weak and innocent damsel in distress that needs a knight in shining armor on a white steed. Sure I will be happy if other people show that they care, but there's a difference between caring about someone and wanting to save them. When I lived at my group-home, I got tools that I hadn't gotten before. During my entire childhood I have been told by grown-ups what to do: psychologists, my parents, my teachers... but what my group-home taught me, was to figure out the solutions by myself. They helped me to help myself and never did the stuff for me.
I was furious with them in the beginning for doing that, I felt like they didn't care. But today I realize that they wouldn't work with what they do if they didn't care. They made me understand that no one can save me except myself. If I did drugs, someone could watch me 24/7, but if I didn't want to quit myself, I would start as soon as my supervisor stopped watching me.
Without the tough love I got from there, I would never have realized that it doesn't matter how many times you tell someone how to do if they don't understand it. It wasn't until I understood what it meant to say stop and actually mean it that I saw why it didn't work during my childhood. It was because the people around me did the things for me. That only help right then. But if it comes from you, it'll help the rest of your life.
Coming to the group-home saved my life. Without the people working there, I would never have come so far as I did, so they helped me save myself. It was a partnership and we met half-way.
This summer it's 8 years I moved there. It's 6 years since I moved away from there and not way goes by without me thinking about the personnel and how grateful I am for helping me see through the darkness. Because life isn't about seeing the light by hiding the darkness. It's about making the light shine through it. Hiding the darkness is to ignore it and it'll grow even stronger. It's about having the light and the reasons you're alive overshadow the faults and flaws of life. I didn't see it that way when I moved there. I was so deep down that I looked up at the bottom. I barely remember anything from that time, because I felt so awful. I had physical pains because of my anxiety. Joyce was the only thing keeping me in this world.
But I have never felt so amazing like I do now. I just wish Joyce could be here and share the joy with me... but I have two other loves that need my affection now.