Today, I felt anger. An emotion that rarely inhabits my body. I have often felt shame and helplessness when I sensed this anger rising through my stomach, my heart, and my throat.
For a long time, I lived according to the expectations of others, convinced that, on my own, I wasn’t capable of making the right decisions. I was often made to feel this way, and eventually, I proved it to myself through my actions.
Seeing me often lost, my family would give me advice, suggesting new directions to try. But it rarely aligned with what I truly wanted. I craved more freedom; they wanted more security. Our core values didn’t match.
"You should go into sales tech," my father would say. "At least that way, you’ll be sure to find a job."
But that didn’t interest me at all. At 14, I had already written a novel, and I knew that writing would always be an essential part of my life.
It’s hard to pursue your dreams when one of your parents doesn’t believe in you and constantly casts doubt whenever you talk about your projects.
I grew up with a deep sense of insecurity, which I masked with humor and extravagance. And thankfully, I had these tools, as they helped me build a good social life, travel, and push forward, even though my parents often disapproved of what I did or how I saw things.
However, when I began to understand myself better and work on my personal growth, I realized that my insecurities were holding me back from living the life I wanted. I was afraid of:
Success
Failure
Disappointing others
Not being beautiful or intelligent enough
Not being loved
About two months ago, I had my first panic attack. It was horrible, intense, terrifying. I thought I was going to die. I didn’t know what was happening: my body was convulsing, I was shaking from head to toe, and I was bursting into tears. These attacks became more frequent until they happened every day.
I went back to my parents’ house for a few days, seeking a safe haven, and after two major panic attacks with them, everything calmed down. I thought the solution was to move closer to them again, after all these years of living on the other side of France.
But upon reflection, and by listening to myself, I realized that if I made that decision, it would be out of fear. I didn’t want to live up there. I needed to build my own life, to detach myself from what was expected of me, and above all, to avoid weekly comments about my life, the choices I make, and the things I think.
After two weeks of respite, the panic attacks returned, weaker but still present. Every day, I had new realizations. I started keeping a journal, which I have been pouring into daily ever since.
Everything I never dared to think, write, or say, I now think, write, and express. I couldn’t continue as before if I wanted to protect my mental and physical health.
The anger I felt today was directed at things my parents said and did, at what some of my close ones thought of me and my decisions. I had to accept that it was okay to feel this emotion. That it was okay not to feel only gratitude. I used to think that when someone helped me, I owed them much in return.
When my father helped me financially, I felt embarrassed. If he helped me, I had to make sure not to disappoint him, so he wouldn’t "abandon" me. That’s when I realized I didn’t feel unconditional love from him, and that I needed to detach myself from that if I wanted to move forward.
Because if I don’t accept disappointing the expectations of my loved ones, who will live my life for me? Who will make the decisions I don’t dare to make for fear of being rejected and abandoned, even though there is no real basis for these fears?
And more importantly, if my loved ones stop talking to me because I decided to live my own life, is that relationship really worth it?
I know they won’t stop talking to me because I’m carving my own path. There might be friction, heated discussions, but ultimately, I’ll learn to assert myself.
Since the beginning of my twenties, I feel that each year brings new upheavals and realizations. I am constantly learning. Mostly, I’m learning to judge myself less harshly and to understand where my behaviors come from.
I have the right to be angry. But I also have the right to move forward and think for myself.
No one can make better decisions for me than I can. I am not under the influence of drugs, nor do I have any illness. I reflect, I learn.
I’ve often idolized certain people around me because I thought they had all the answers I didn’t and that they would always be one step ahead of me. Today, at 27, I am finally learning that no one has all the answers. Not even the wisest person in the world.
No one can fully know what’s going on inside of us. We are the ones who feel, we are the ones who know what we want. And we are the ones who can change things, concretely.
I want to maintain good relationships with the people I love. They matter to me. But no longer at the cost of sacrificing who I am and who I want to become.