I wonder how difficult it is for people to really share their feelings.
I grew up in a family that was broken by sorrow, because my older brother had died just before I was born. Instead of hiding from her grief, my mother shared it. It was never a secret that I took my brother's place. On borrowed time, that's how I've always felt. I need to do well so my brother haven't died in vain.
In our family, it was always natural to hug, to tell that we love each other, to be weak and stupid. We had the right to be who we were. My mother always said: "No matter what has happened, you can always come home." That was needed when I was a teenager and hated my parents. Oh dear, the things I did just because I was so stupid. Yet, there was that one line that never needed crossing, because no matter what I did, she meant it. Come home if nothing else works. Come home if all else fails.
So maybe that is why I don't fear closeness, why I don't fear emotions. I breathed sorrow when I was a child. I carried my mother's pain in me, held her when she was weak. But she was also my rock, when I couldn't think for myself. Every little thing she had ever told me stuck. I guess we carried each other after all.
Life is funny and so very beautiful.
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