Danalya
journaling

Journaling

Thoughts, days, and honesty.

La Famille

My father is not an emotional person. He is full of goodness, yet sometimes it is hard to see it. He can present himself as rigid and cynical. We always had an on-and-off relationship. Many times I didn’t understand him, and he didn’t understand me. Over the years, I carried a lot of anger inside me because I didn’t know how to say what bothered me or what hurt me. I prefer to stay silent.
One of the most significant moments of my life was at my grandmother’s funeral — his mother. He stood in front of everyone and gave a speech, and then tears began to fall from his eyes. He broke down crying in front of everyone, and my soul did not know how to carry it. Suddenly, all the anger I had accumulated over the years disappeared as if it had never existed. To see my father — the strong, tough man — with tears streaming down his face. It was a healing moment, full of empathy.
My reaction was simply to walk away. Even I — who always believes in emotional expression and in the need to cry from time to time — could not bear it. It was like watching a stone melt. I stood to the side. My soul melted with him, yet I could not cry. Maybe because of the shock within me. Even though it was natural, and I did not expect anything different, it was very hard for me. It was the first time in my life that I saw my father cry.
My father is a good man with a huge heart, yet over the years I realized that sometimes he prefers to appear tough. Still, sometimes a little sweetness comes out. Like I said — the stone melts. And this understanding helped soften the anger I had been carrying inside. Many times I felt that my father did not understand me, but with time I realized that maybe he simply does not really know how to deal with emotions — yet he cares.
My mother is emotional, with a very big heart. She does not prevent herself from showing it. There is great sensitivity in her, and alongside it, strong emotions and temper. She is a good person and a wonderful mother. I am grateful to her — for her inner and outer beauty, for her huge heart. There were times I did not understand some of her actions, but as you grow and mature, you begin to understand the world and the way people think and behave. At the end of the day, both my mother and father have enormous hearts — even if sometimes they are a little hard to understand.
There is a lot of fear in her. It is beautiful to see, yet sometimes I hope she will relax a little and trust me as an adult. Even though I struggle mentally and functionally at times, I know how to manage in the end. I also know it comes from her great love for me. I hope she does not carry things and emotions inside herself, and that she knows how beautiful she is — inside and out. Many times I have seen her cry. Sometimes I hugged her close to my heart, and sometimes again I did not know how to react. It is difficult to see the person who raised you break down, yet it is very, very legitimate for her to break sometimes. She is a person full of emotions and colors — and that makes her very beautiful.
Together, they fill my world with colors of emotion and heart. I choose to set aside my anger over certain actions, because at the end of the day you understand that they simply want what is best for me. In some cases, they are not willing to give up parts of themselves — and that is understandable and acceptable to me.
I will always appreciate them for their endless care and their acceptance of me, especially as someone who has struggled mentally over the years. I regret the way I sometimes reacted in the past. Unfortunately, I do not always know how to express myself. Fear takes over — fear of being judged or saying something wrong. Sometimes I release everything at once, and emotions that have built up inside me come out in what feels like a very intense emotional storm. It is hard. But it is important to remember that emotions, in all their colors and forms, are legitimate. I hope I am not disappointing them.
Each of us pays our own price, mostly emotionally. But at the end of the day, we all share a mutual love for one another — a love that fills our home with light and goodness. I am grateful for that.
I love you. Thank you, and I’m sorry

I don’t tell people what I truly feel.
Not because no one offers or reaches out
I just don’t think it matters.
I prefer to stay silent.
In some way, it’s a habit. And also a fear,
a fear of revealing my inner world.
A world filled with very sharp emotions, very intense ones,
with a lot of pain, wounds, scratches.
I prefer not to show it to the world.
I prefer to lock my mouth and keep the key to myself,
never giving it to anyone.
After many years of loneliness, not alone, but lonely
I don’t have the ability to speak, only to listen.
There is a choice in it, but it comes from fear.
I don’t have the ability to dare to speak.
In the end, it falls back on me.
Because my storage room fills and fills,
So I prefer to disappear.
I truly prefer to stay silent.
I’m comfortable being the listener,
the one who gives a hand,
and then retreats into myself,
fighting my demons alone.
Those battles leave scratches,
and sharp pain.
But I truly prefer that the pain be only mine.
I don’t want to disturb anyone.
It doesn’t matter. Others might say it does
but that doesn’t change the way my mind sees things,
because it’s stuck in a loop of years.
I truly don’t know how to stop, how to speak, how to communicate.
It’s very heavy.
But I’ve learned to live with it.
And it’s okay. It’s really okay.
I don’t know if I’m lying to myself when I say that —
but still, it’s really, really okay.
I truly prefer to stay silent.
It’s more comfortable for me to be on the listening side,
with the smiling mask.
And when I need quiet, I simply step away for a moment,
and return as if nothing happened.
I might say genreally that my state wasn’t good in those moments
but I won’t share more than that.
I’m pretty sure I will always be on the listening side,
the one who gives advice.
At the end of the conversation they’ll say,
“Thank you, you really helped me.”
I’ll smile gently and say,
“No problem. I’m always here.”
I have a lot of empathy for the world around me.
Even though sometimes I’m very angry at it.
In my eyes, there are people who don’t behave properly
but I will never educate anyone.
It’s none of my business.
Everyone can live exactly as they want.
I simply won’t take part in that person’s world.
Every person carries a different world.
And maybe it’s also the environment’s fault that I feel this way
because many times when I did dare,
when I did speak,
when I did say what bothered me
I received a knife.
And I no longer have the strength for those stabs.
So I built the mask.
And probably, I will stay with it forever

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