THE FACT IS, I’M TIRED
I don’t know what it is about the month of June, but for the second year in a row, it has revealed all the crap I try to hide. The angst, the anger, the anxiety. I hear Saturn, the planet of restrictions and limitations, is in retrograde, so perhaps that is why I have to sit with my baser emotions as I sort them out.
One of the things I’m dealing with is breaking generational curses and how incredibly permissive we all are in repeating the sins of our parents.
Growing up, I thought my parents were superheroes. Now, I see that they had their own baggage, which left little time to fully tend to three kids who needed them. My parents always alluded to not wanting us and made us feel like we were a burden. To this day, I am very aware of how close I get to people, because I don’t want them to get sick of me. I implore every person of child-rearing age to fully examine why they want to become parents before actually doing so.
We recently had a birth in the family. The mother “joked” on social media about how the father “took off” when he learned that she was having his baby. And this was in no way an unplanned pregnancy. This woman alerted me almost every 18 months, like clockwork, telling me that she “might be pregnant.” Did she use condoms? No. Was she on any back up contraceptive? No.
So, she has a baby by a man, who showed her who he was well before she got pregnant. This woman grew up in dysfunction and created a scenario that doesn’t seem to support stability for her new son. She moved more than 2,000 miles away from her children to “get an education,” but can up short with no education, job, and a brand new baby. I don’t understand this.
When you have to put your children first, there’s little time to devote to one’s self. I have seen first-hand how adults behave when they are overburdened with their kids. My mom constantly complained of not having enough help and had a nervous breakdown right in front of me at 9-years-old. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. Before that, she was abusive, cruel, and dismissive.
When I remember all the times this relative called me, telling me that she “might be pregnant” but failed to get a degree or certificate that would have put her and her two children in better stability, my blood boils. This woman is now raising a black son, with a father who is absent. How is this woman who could not, and would not, show up for herself, going to show up for her new son?
Ladies, please love yourselves enough to vet the men you entertain. Your relationship with them and your own legacy is a reflection of how you feel about yourself.