Whose Voice am I Hearing...?

For years, I only heard their voices. I only heard criticisms. All I knew was what they wanted me to know. I was instructed to be strong, to never need a man for anything, and to be slim in order to attract that man that I’d never need. I knew I had to go to college, but no one ever explained why. I had to keep my hair straightened, kinky contradicted classy…according to those who raised me. Love was just a distraction and money was the ruler of all things beautiful (at least that’s what they told me). I heard what they said and I saw what they did. The two never aligned, and when their words and actions corresponded…the picture wasn’t as pretty as they thought it was.

As a child, with wide eyes and huge cheeks, I waited for my mother to come home from work for most of the 1990’s. And when she did, her only mission was to prepare me for another school day or for church. I never got to “know” her, never got to hear about her childhood play dates and teenage dreams. I just knew that she left every day with burden in her slanted eyes and returned with a toy or treat of some sort. My caretaker (a relative) helped my mother raise me. Together, they were a female powerhouse…married to men yet independent and sassy. They were always shopping…and always skinny. They’d go on absurd diets weeks before huge parties. They’d go entire days without anything to eat besides soup or oranges. And then, they’d look at me and with complete sincerity say, “you should want to grow up and be just like us.”

I didn’t want to be like them, but I was too loyal to admit that I was disgusted with their tactics. I was confused most of the time. I spent most of my childhood hating my body because they told me I was unacceptable. I hid my “crushes” because I was convinced that emotions were a woman’s internal poison. I was always told to “focus on my lessons” and to “make money, then fall in love”…as if I were in control in the natural order of things.

I accepted their teachings as scripture for eighteen years. Then I went to college. And it was then, that I went on a rebellious rampage. I quit every job I accepted within a few months. Money meant nothing to me. When I had it, I spent it on others…just to rid of it quickly. I wanted to prove that I could be successful without their instructions so I bought big-ticket items with rent/book money and fell “in love” at nineteen just to prove that love could conquer all.

(It didn’t).

When I left home at eighteen, I was tiny and “adorable” according to my mother. By age twenty, I’d gained a total of 65 pounds. I was unhealthy and unhappy. But I thought I was proving a point to everyone whoever tried to control and mold me. Every time I lectured myself for being overweight, I’d eat more just to silence the voices that I thought were echoes from childhood. I was miserable.

It wasn’t until a year ago that I realized how much I admired my mother, not for what she said, but for who she was. I started to understand that her advice wasn’t intended to burn me but to build me up. I started to understand her messages and her cautionary lectures. It became evident that she wanted me to be the very best version of myself. And though she didn’t have the best delivery, her intentions were good.

I realize now, when I sit still and hear my own voice, that she and I don’t want different outcomes. The “me” I see up ahead is a woman that she’ll be very proud of. But, what’s more important is that I am proud of the woman I am becoming. I do want to pursue more schooling and to learn all I can. Because knowledge is powerful. I want to be in great shape because that’s when I’m most confident. I just intend to take my own customized avenues to feel fabulous. When I hear myself, I realize that no one controls my destiny but me.

Everything that I did out of rebellion failed. I had to realize that I respected the teachings provided for me as a child, but I did not always have to embrace the lessons that contradicted my own beliefs.

I now know how to differentiate between what “they want” and what “I need”. And knowing the difference…saved my life.