The Pieces That Made Me Me

When I was young, before I was ten or so, I was a really sensitive, nervous someone who cried easily and was constantly breaking things and tripping all over the place. I remember how often I would bang my big toe and it would bleed.

My cousin would tease me, saying that I am a cry baby and stuff. It made me feel weak and silly and I taught myself to not be such an easy crier.

Over the years, I became someone that very few saw crying and when I cried, it would be in the middle of the night where no one would see me.

When I moved into my parents home in 2003, I was so sad because of how hard the first three years post my mom’s death were.
But I didn’t cry. I got into myself.

I remember my mom saying that I was like a boiling pot with all this emotion bubbling up and it would one day boil over and all this would come spilling out.
And it would.

I would have such temper outbreaks…I would be horrible. Saying the most hurtful things to my mom. She took the brunt of my boiling over points.

She would say…And I would say back and I would not back down.

I hate how as a little child I learned to put up a facade of this strong person without emotions. It’s something that I realise some people still see when they see me.
Some things are hard to unlearn.

I wish I could be those people that will cry when things touch them, but I find it so hard. I still associate tears with weakness because of my experiences with it.

I hurt so much sometimes I wanna rip my heart out of my chest just so that the pain goes away.

Now and again, the overwhelming need to cry comes over me and no matter how hard I try to suppress it, I am unable to.

Like tonight. As I type this, I cannot stop the tears from falling.

I am Thandeka TJ Jwaha on facebook

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