Damnatio Memoriae

Yesterday my partner took the initiative to put my parents' photo up on the mantelpiece. I didn't realize it until just before we went to bed. I tried to hold back my tears; I really did. It didn't work and I fell into a sobbing mess in his arm, thanking him over and over again.

This was the first time someone I'm with respected my parents. One tried to hurt them as retaliation to me. Another one didn't give a damn but wanted me to care for his. And yet another one coldly told me that going low contact with them is better, citing my family issues that I shared with him.

But that's not how love works. Whatever comes, I still love them. I will still care and will try to help them if I can. I can have boundaries, sure. I can accept that people love in different ways, and maybe not the way I want to be loved. The love, however, and the care, never stopped.

For some, love ends. Lines drawn. Roles reassigned. Perks retracted. Some even went "damnatio memoriae" and erase every trace of the other person's existence. They implied that still feeling that warmth is a sign of weaknesses, that we are not ready to let go.

I used to feel weak and ashamed because of that. That I am so 'co-dependent' and have such low self-confidence I can't bear to cut contact with people who hurt me. Yet did I not walk away when I must save myself? Did I not stand up, brush myself, tend my wounds, and live my life (somewhat) normally after?

Life is pain. Existence is pain. We want to build walls and borders around ourselves because we think that could save us from harm and pain. Love is a venom that seeps through and breaks the barrier. It's ok if this is your choice of self-protection. I just don't want to do this anymore.

Being able to love is not a weakness. Being able to see people for who they are and not just what their role to us is, honestly, a pretty rad trait to have. A person's bad trait and good deed can exist simultaneously. Humans *are* multifaceted. Accepting both means you have accepted the person as a whole.

I don't want to apologize anymore for being a loving person. My heart is a giant offrenda filled with candles of those who touched my heart. Their flickers light my soul and warm it in the harsh days of life. Whether the person stayed or left, whether it was messy or consensual or simply drifted apart, it doesn't matter. I was loved. I loved.

And you know what? That was enough.