I felt like a victim most of my life. I blamed everyone around me for why I was not happy or why I was not living my dream because this was all that I knew. I came from a family of victims who survived the Khmer Rouge Genocide. I could still feel the hate they held for everything that happened in their country.
My father blamed society, sometimes his own family, and the lack of opportunities for his financial woes and misery. His rage killed him slowly as every cell in his body transformed into hate for his unfulfilling life. As I saw my father die from Leukemia, I felt his defeat and helplessness. I felt his spirit die before his physical body did; he lost hope. After his death, I did everything I could to not be like him because I wanted to be hopeful about my life. I wanted to come alive. But deep within was a sadness that reminded me how I was just like my father and that I would never succeed.
I began to blame my family for projecting all their emotional baggage onto me and blaming society for never acknowledging my existence because I felt invisible. I saw the racism, the oppression, and the classism that set barriers between us all, making me feel different and lesser than. I began to believe there was a glass ceiling above me, as I could never reach the stars but only stare at it from afar. I gave my power away every time I believed the oppressive comments of others internalizing it as my own. I did not need anyone to criticize me anymore when I had the same recording in my head that I am worthless and powerless.
I remember as a little girl all I wanted was to shine and share my love with others. I wanted others to smile and be happy. I wanted us to laugh, play, and get along, but the state of the world now is a life of cruelty. But I realize after understanding my own pain, we turn to hate because we are afraid. It's like we somehow gave up on love or forgot how it was to feel love in our hearts. Maybe someone crushed us or abused us until the pain became our only friend. Suffering is something we have become too comfortable with. But there comes a time when it does not serve us anymore. It may have helped us survive in the past, but we must let go of the pain people have inflicted on us because we deserve to feel happy. This anger and hate I carried toward others was a burden of pain that tortured me into a deep hole of unhappiness. I saw what it did to my father, but I still held on to it.
But I can't do it anymore.
I am tired of hurting myself and feeding this cycle of self-sabotage. I break that glass ceiling of limitation that has made me believe I cannot expand and evolve into the infinite. I break the walls of separation that stop me from seeing everyone as human beings rather than just by the labels put upon us. Those are all lies to keep us apart, but I don't want to be apart from you anymore. I want to be connected; that is all I ever wanted.
I am breaking down slowly to love. I feel it permeate my very being as I fall into a cloud of support and openness. I cry as my heart breaks open, softening my hate and fear into beauty. The pain I felt came from the hurt of not letting love in, but I want the courage to try again. I want the courage to be vulnerable and open my heart to the world. If I continue to blame others for my life circumstances, I will continue to give my power away, but I am not going to anymore. My power is mine to hold. I take responsibility for my life and realize I am my own savior, my own healer, and the key holder of my own heart.
When I look at myself, I do not just see a physical body anymore, but the beautiful soul underneath that embodies my very being. I see that I am a reflection of nature, of Mother Earth, and of the Universe. We are more than just the roles we play here and I am done with being a victim because I know what I really am is a powerful being of light and love. I know my dad would never get the opportunity to feel the potential of what he could have been, but I still do, so I am not giving up because I am worth it. We all are.