Broken Bella Donna











{May 19, 2012}  

I did read something in a book recently that I liked so much I intended to type it up in here. Alas I forgot, and it was a library book and has now returned back to the library… so unfortunately we’ll have to go with my gist of it, which inevitably wont be nearly as well worded.

The character in this book… she didn’t trust people to like her once they got to know her; she held herself back from allowing people to get too close because of her relationship with her own mother. Her mother loved her as a baby, and a small child but did not like the person she became once she grew older and developed her own personality. From this she deduced that she wasn’t a good person; if even her own mother couldn’t love the person she became, she had better hold people at arm’s length so that they could love the baby, but never get to know and in turn dislike the adult she had become.

I drew parallels from this. I have always known my mother doesn’t like nor respect the person I’ve grown up to be, and I’ve always been aware that I’ve held people at arm’s length to a certain degree, but I’ve never put two and two together.

Nine times out of ten I can sit back and honestly tell you I’m not theĀ  person my mother thinks I am, and that I have grown to accept that the problem is hers, not mine, that I really am not all that bad.

But in those moments of weakness, in the dark when I’m sobbing into my pillow, the reoccurring thought is always “What sort of person am I if even my own family dislike me?”

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