February 2018

A cheerer, a dreamer, a magic-believer

9. february 2018 at 17:50 | Black Demon |  my soul
(a weeper, a worrier, a never-well sleeper)

I grew up in a turbulent family. Not abusive, but turbulent. Wasn't really taught to show love or affection nor was I ever shown love or affection (but then again, maybe I was; maybe I just don't remember it). I was the reason my parents got married, you see.
Back then, in this country, it was a common thing for young people to get married after they found out that a child was on the way.
The majority of these marriages didn't end up well.
As far as I can remember, my parents were always fighting. I remember sitting in my room, keeping quiet and trying to play while I heard them screaming, yelling, crying.
The majority of my childhood memories are filled with anxiety. They seem dark and cold, because that's how it was. I learned how to walk on eggshells.
Then my siblings were born. I grew up. The world changed and suddenly, there were some colours.
(not that my parents stopped fighting, you see; even if they did, it is too late for me. I just learned how to cope)
I became the cheerer.
Do you know the cheerers?
No? Let me tell you about them. They are all around us and we all look at them and think oh, how happy they seem. How easy life must be for them. I wish I was in their place.
Cheerers are scarred. They've been through shit and, most the time, they are ankle deep in some sort of shit. Depressed. Sad. Scared. Anxious.
I am a cheerer. I make myself happy, I make myself laugh all the time. I always smile. I do not allow myself to show that I am upset. I do not allow myself to BE upset.
If I get upset, I fail.

You probably don't understand. Let me explain.

As I mentioned, my family is a bit fucked up (sometimes, it happens; sometimes, people just make bad decisions, like marrying when they really should not, marrying for all the wrong reasons and then, as if it wasn't enough, they fuck they kids up, too. They don't want to - it just happens. What can you do about it, right?) but later, in my teens, I learned how to block it. I learned how to cope. I learned how to forget about the reality.
I am happy.

I refuse to see all the bad stuff (I still see it, though; I just pretend that it is not really there and sometimes, it works). I just put on a smile and joke, laugh too loud, talk too loud, in hopes that my cheering will keep the dark demons lurking nearby away.
I laugh because I know that when I stop, they will come and get me.
I laugh because I am afraid that if I stop and go quiet, allow myself few minutes of sadness, it will overwhelm me and I will drown.

It is tragic.

Sometimes, I feel so fucking empty that I want to jump out of a fucking window.

And you know the worst thing?

That children who grew up in turbulent households, filled with tension (with those moments when everything seems okay and then, suddenly, glasses are breaking and they are screaming again) usually grow up into hypersensitive adults (I read somewhere something along those lines; it was a study of sorts, I think. And even if I didn't read it, I can see it on myself).
We pick up moods. We were walking on eggshells majority of our lives, we had to learn how to detect the moods of our parents, we learned to listen to the rhythm of a voice, watch facial expressions, we learned to notice anything odd to know that a storm was approaching.

I always know when something is off. Be it with my friends, colleagues, whatever. I always feel the tension, or just when they feel depressed and it is suffocating.

And then, I become the cheerer.
I try to scare the storm off.
Because I always get reminded of those times when I was a child, lying in bed at night and listening to the yells (hell, when I was a child; it is still happening). And I want to prevent that.

I am a torch-bearer. I carry light for others but I keep none for myself.

So please, if you have children; don't fucking yell at each other in front of them.
Just talk to each other. Don't go breaking things. Do not throw stuff. Do not make the child pick sides. Do not talk shit about your partner in front of your kid. Do not try to "win your child over". They are not your allies and relationship is not a fucking war.
If it doesn't work, better get divorced. Without yelling. Without tension. Without scarring your children for life.
Do not put into this world another traumatized human being, please.
Do not create more broken things that don't work properly. Spare them the pain. The struggle.

Just talk normally like normal people. Or, if you must fight, go to some fucking abandoned site or some forest and yell and scream all you like, until your throats are raw.

I beg you; when parents fight, it's always the children who suffer the most.

Sincerely, a Cheerer.