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Your Voice

You didn’t argue with him,

It was only his opinion.

If you didn’t let him win, you lost him emotionally.

It made me angry,

It made me upset.

I asked him once about the different political parties;

He gave me this biased view on them all.

I would never speak to him about politics,

I would lose him emotionally if I told him my opinions.

Why did he only stick with his opinions?

Why did he not listen to the other side?

Why does he not weigh up his opinions against a new idea?

This was my childhood.

Paternity leave? Bullshit.

But it isn’t.

A woman run business will fail because they’ll all get pregnant,

But they don’t.

My opinion was valid the whole way through,

My opinion was the forward thinking way of the world.

But to believe that was to lose him.

My foundation. My rock.

He trained me to be a certain way.

Conservative. A woman.

That was how he would accept me.

But that is not how I can accept myself.

My first love; a conservative, a shooter, a masculine man, the perfect man.

He wanted me to be a certain way,

He didn’t like my friends, so I discarded them.

He didn’t like my style, so I discarded that.

I was miserable and never knew why.

I couldn’t understand why.

My inner self was rejected.

My inner self had to be discarded.

I only argue if I know I’m right.

I will 100% win.

If I’m not sure, I won’t try.

Losing is not an option.

I have learned a trait I hate.

When I’m wrong, I insist I’m right.

I hate myself for it.

Accepting when you’re wrong is appropriate.

So at least I’m not 100% my Dad.

Suppressing myself for so many year.

All that emotion. All that pain.

Disconnect it all, it is your inner self that must be discarded.

Up until you explode.

The pain started to break me.

My body started to tell me it was too much.

When he lost his second leg and I didn’t talk about it.

The pressure of work with that - time to crack.

Fast forward two years.

The death project.

The pressure. The workload. The stress.

All too much for one person.

And the facade finally broke.

The inner self had too much to say.

The inner self which had been suppressed for so long.

I punished her.

Two more years have passed.

My ability to listen to her is weak.

Like there is a disconnect between two bases.

The messenger pigeon keeps getting shot down.

The battle is still ongoing.

I am a grown woman,

I am my own foundations, my own rock.

I need to learn that my opinions are important.

I need to learn that being alone is safe too.

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