MUSA MANSA

The Pursuit Of Contentment

Long after emotional deprivation and a demished self worth. I find myself asking “how do I pick up the pieces?” When suddenly as swift as an inhale I answered my own question with “How can you fix something that never worked?” It then occurred to me that my insecurities stemmed from a place much deeper than the mental manipulation of my children’s father or even the emotional absence of the second nor the lack of integrity neither of them hold. Although those were woes we had in common they were their own to bare and mature from. It was my upbringing. My fathers absence but not just the physicality; the lack of emotional depth and ability to nurture from both my mother and father. At the time I did not understand what depression looked like therefore I never knew why I was never enough for my mother and why my pleas for nurture and acknowledgment were met with misunderstandings. In the case of my father; I never heard of a narcissist until recently. That was an entire universe of truth to unearth within itself and still is. All of these things led to me accepting emotionally aloof and unrequited individuals. I accepted men who only gave me minimal effort because that’s what my father gave. I accepted men who were emotionless because that’s what my mother gave. The irony was when my parents would witness this treatment and would say “you should leave them”. I’d mentally reply “should I have left/ divorced you?”. For many years this was my “normal”. Desperately clinging to become the adversary to this pathology and yet not fully understanding the root cause itself. It had nothing to do with the men I chose but rather why I myself was attracted to them. Why I insisted on these specific principles to be a foundation for a “good” relationship when I myself had not consistently acquired all of what I required. And even with the “good providers” and hypergamist relations I found myself in the same dysfunctional, emotionless dynamic. “Is it me?” I asked myself. In a sense it is... The unearthing of my subconscious abandonment issues and anxieties of separation. My egoistic masking of emotions. The never ending fear of intimacy by trying to avoid rejection. These are my baggage. I must have compassion while I unpack these antiques of mine. Knowing that it’s simply a representation of where I’ve already been and with the proper adjustments it will not be the calculation for where I’m going.