Two weeks ago my mother looked me dead in the eye in the middle of an argument and broke my spirit, she yelled, voice full of anger “Megan…” And the rest of her words disappeared. She looked almost as broken as I was. She didn’t mean it and she felt terrible and after some tears were shed and some words were said, we moved on.
Then today something really broke me. But I didn’t cry, I didn’t yell, and I didn’t move on. You see my dad, who has always been more of a sperm donor than an actual father, told me that I’ve proven that I am “not a man”. Apparently I do not handle things the way he would like or the way he defines as a mans way. This didn’t destroy me or ruin my life, I took a deep breath and I walked away.
You see when someone loves you and hurts you, we cry because we can’t imagine ever being hurt by them.
When someone who doesn’t love you, hurts you we move on, because they never really mattered in the first place.