Glass Child
I recently learned the term “glass child”, and before this I never knew there was a term for me; for who I am. The best way I can define it, in my own words, is that I am that dish sitting in your cabinet, that you don’t use because it is to “perfect” and it is really just there to look pretty or for special occasions. It is not until I get a chip that then I get the appreciation and attention that I need. And it’s not like I am new to needing this appreciation and attention, because I really needed it the whole time. If you had just given me that appreciation and attention when I was whole, I would have never ended up broken. But you were to busy giving the extra appreciation and attention to the dish that came into your possession already chipped, to notice my preventative care needs.
I never blamed you. I blamed myself for thinking like that. I thought I was the only one until I saw that term and googled it’s meaning. I cried. Because I was no longer alone. For just that small moment, I let myself feel that feeling without guilt shadowing it. It’s a tricky thing, guilt. Guilt is sneaky, it’s stronger than any other feeling I’ve ever felt—even anger, and elation—because it is so quiet; always there whispering. Guilt is that voice scratching the inside of your skull. It is both the angel and devil on your shoulder. It is your subconscious.
I never blamed you. I blamed myself for thinking like that. I thought I was the only one until I saw that term and googled it’s meaning. I cried. Because I was no longer alone. For just that small moment, I let myself feel that feeling without guilt shadowing it. It’s a tricky thing, guilt. Guilt is sneaky, it’s stronger than any other feeling I’ve ever felt—even anger, and elation—because it is so quiet; always there whispering. Guilt is that voice scratching the inside of your skull. It is both the angel and devil on your shoulder. It is your subconscious.
Guilt always told me my feelings are invalid. Guilt always told me that I was selfish. Guilt always told me that I was weak.
I never blamed you because I loved that chipped dish just as much as you did—just as much a Mrs Potts loved Chip from beauty in the beast. I wanted that dish to get the care and help it needed so much that when I began to crack myself the guilt told me that I was wrong to feel the way I did. But how can you be wrong when it comes to something you can’t control?
I never wanted all your sunshine, I don’t think I ever wanted for it at all, but I needed that partly sunny window sill so I could grow. Instead I wilted. And you know what? I felt guilty about wilting. I also felt guilty about asking for the smallest ray of brightness, and being stuck between those two walls of guilt is the loneliest feeling I have ever felt. And all this leads to the explanation of the naming of a “glass child”, because all that isolation and guilt makes you feel like you are going to shatter at any moment; not just chip.
Let me tell you that the guilt you feel is wrong. You are not alone. And you are certainly not weak. You are strong. You are not selfish. You can ask for help; it doesn’t take help away from others. And maybe you don’t feel comfortable asking your parents—or whoever is caring for you and that chipped dish—for help, and thats okay too. I went to therapy for years without telling my parents (how will they ever know?). Now that they do know I still got the “But do you really need it?” From my mother, but thats okay because I was already on my own journey of healing. Although I knew it was going to be far from easy, I was ready to grow in the light that I made for myself. I am a glass child, and I am okay with that. I am healing, and you can too.
I never blamed you because I loved that chipped dish just as much as you did—just as much a Mrs Potts loved Chip from beauty in the beast. I wanted that dish to get the care and help it needed so much that when I began to crack myself the guilt told me that I was wrong to feel the way I did. But how can you be wrong when it comes to something you can’t control?
I never wanted all your sunshine, I don’t think I ever wanted for it at all, but I needed that partly sunny window sill so I could grow. Instead I wilted. And you know what? I felt guilty about wilting. I also felt guilty about asking for the smallest ray of brightness, and being stuck between those two walls of guilt is the loneliest feeling I have ever felt. And all this leads to the explanation of the naming of a “glass child”, because all that isolation and guilt makes you feel like you are going to shatter at any moment; not just chip.
Let me tell you that the guilt you feel is wrong. You are not alone. And you are certainly not weak. You are strong. You are not selfish. You can ask for help; it doesn’t take help away from others. And maybe you don’t feel comfortable asking your parents—or whoever is caring for you and that chipped dish—for help, and thats okay too. I went to therapy for years without telling my parents (how will they ever know?). Now that they do know I still got the “But do you really need it?” From my mother, but thats okay because I was already on my own journey of healing. Although I knew it was going to be far from easy, I was ready to grow in the light that I made for myself. I am a glass child, and I am okay with that. I am healing, and you can too.
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