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@tieulinhnu: Hướng dẫn làm cây Bonsai bằng túi Nilong đơn giản #Bonsai #Nilong #Handmade@TIEU LINH NU

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Wednesday 05 April 2023 11:49:12 GMT
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I was quiet growing up, I didn’t have many friends to invite to a party. I was always scared for people to know me, to know what was going on in our house. My mom was never big on birthdays anyways. She was adopted, so she never liked hers. So i thought to never like mine. As a kid I wanted to be just like my mom. She was beautiful, loved, charismatic, and always held the crowds attention. I tried most of my childhood to fit her expectations, I tried my best to be just like her. She would call me “mini” and I absolutely adored it. When i became a teenager and started growing into my own skin, I grew comfortable with my personality and ambitions. I was comforted in my small circle of friends and all of our quirks. She told me I didn’t know who I was, but I just was no longer like her. When I turned sixteen I started throwing my own birthday parties. At my 16th birthday my mom found out I liked girls, she always told me I would grow out of it and it became a back and forth between us for years. Until I just finally stopped talking about it. I wanted my mom to know me, but she chose not to. At my 17th birthday my mom yelled at me for not buying her cigarettes. I had to hunt her down to a random motel and pick her up to even see her that day. She started to fall heavy into her addictions. When I had my party at the local park, a car that looked too familiar was parked in the lot. Later I found out she’d go there every day to drink a 6 pack so she could go to work. I found out on my birthday. I stopped wanting to have birthdays. For my 18th birthday we went to a local mexican restaurant. My mom was doing drugs, her body and face thin and marred. My mother gave me lingerie as a present in front of my entire family. I wanted to crawl out of my skin and throw up. For my 19th birthday, she just never showed up. My mom does not see me on my birthdays anymore. At one point you have to say no and break the cycle of hurt. A lot of my childhood was jumbled up and spit out. When I think of growing up, I see it in the eyes of an adult and spend too much time trying to dissect what was my mom and what was her addiction, what was a normal childhood and what was trauma. I grew up quick, I was quiet because I was scared people could see right through our glass house and at any moment I could shatter. I was scared to be myself because it did not fit her idea of who I would be and I just wanted my mom to love me. Bits and pieces of my childhood I loved, I now see it tainted with addiction. For a long time birthdays for me were tainted. I hated them just like my mom did. I have healed so much, and I am still healing. Mourning the loss of the childhood I thought I had and mourning the loss of the person I knew as my mother to addiction. I choose to celebrate every year now. My birthday to me isn’t just for myself, it’s for the little girl I use to be who just wanted to live as herself. It’s for breaking the cycle and for truly living. Healing isn’t linear and neither is grief. For me, a Minecraft birthday party meant more than you could know. It was another step to heal my inner child and be surrounded by people who love me for me. I waited a while to post this, but I am so blessed to live another year loving myself and being exactly who I was meant to be. I believe my story is just another testimony. For those who have parents who struggle with addiction, know you are loved and that you matter more than drugs. Know that you deserve more and that it is not your fault that they choose to live a life of addiction. Love yourself most of all. Take the time to heal. Do not become a part of the cycle. Celebrate your wins, your milestones, and your life. You can mourn, but you can also keep moving on and live for yourself. #childofanaddict #healingmyinnerchild #innerchild #grief
I was quiet growing up, I didn’t have many friends to invite to a party. I was always scared for people to know me, to know what was going on in our house. My mom was never big on birthdays anyways. She was adopted, so she never liked hers. So i thought to never like mine. As a kid I wanted to be just like my mom. She was beautiful, loved, charismatic, and always held the crowds attention. I tried most of my childhood to fit her expectations, I tried my best to be just like her. She would call me “mini” and I absolutely adored it. When i became a teenager and started growing into my own skin, I grew comfortable with my personality and ambitions. I was comforted in my small circle of friends and all of our quirks. She told me I didn’t know who I was, but I just was no longer like her. When I turned sixteen I started throwing my own birthday parties. At my 16th birthday my mom found out I liked girls, she always told me I would grow out of it and it became a back and forth between us for years. Until I just finally stopped talking about it. I wanted my mom to know me, but she chose not to. At my 17th birthday my mom yelled at me for not buying her cigarettes. I had to hunt her down to a random motel and pick her up to even see her that day. She started to fall heavy into her addictions. When I had my party at the local park, a car that looked too familiar was parked in the lot. Later I found out she’d go there every day to drink a 6 pack so she could go to work. I found out on my birthday. I stopped wanting to have birthdays. For my 18th birthday we went to a local mexican restaurant. My mom was doing drugs, her body and face thin and marred. My mother gave me lingerie as a present in front of my entire family. I wanted to crawl out of my skin and throw up. For my 19th birthday, she just never showed up. My mom does not see me on my birthdays anymore. At one point you have to say no and break the cycle of hurt. A lot of my childhood was jumbled up and spit out. When I think of growing up, I see it in the eyes of an adult and spend too much time trying to dissect what was my mom and what was her addiction, what was a normal childhood and what was trauma. I grew up quick, I was quiet because I was scared people could see right through our glass house and at any moment I could shatter. I was scared to be myself because it did not fit her idea of who I would be and I just wanted my mom to love me. Bits and pieces of my childhood I loved, I now see it tainted with addiction. For a long time birthdays for me were tainted. I hated them just like my mom did. I have healed so much, and I am still healing. Mourning the loss of the childhood I thought I had and mourning the loss of the person I knew as my mother to addiction. I choose to celebrate every year now. My birthday to me isn’t just for myself, it’s for the little girl I use to be who just wanted to live as herself. It’s for breaking the cycle and for truly living. Healing isn’t linear and neither is grief. For me, a Minecraft birthday party meant more than you could know. It was another step to heal my inner child and be surrounded by people who love me for me. I waited a while to post this, but I am so blessed to live another year loving myself and being exactly who I was meant to be. I believe my story is just another testimony. For those who have parents who struggle with addiction, know you are loved and that you matter more than drugs. Know that you deserve more and that it is not your fault that they choose to live a life of addiction. Love yourself most of all. Take the time to heal. Do not become a part of the cycle. Celebrate your wins, your milestones, and your life. You can mourn, but you can also keep moving on and live for yourself. #childofanaddict #healingmyinnerchild #innerchild #grief

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