Beloved Blog Post #6

I've been inspired to FINALLY write this last blog on Beloved. This inspiration came out of frustration. There will be no citations needed, just me, my thoughts, and connections. I can relate to the characters in Beloved in so many ways. Part of me is Sethe, afraid to be loved, Paul D, afraid to love completely, Denver, longing to be loved, and Beloved, desperate to know why the love that was given so freely to her siblings wasn't given to her. As painful as it is to write what I am about to write, it’s something that I’ve been holding in for far too long and I need to let it out.

To be afraid to be loved is something that I’ve struggled with throughout my life. After losing my  biological dad at the age of 13 and my half sister at the age of 15, I had a huge fear of loving people because I thought they’d just end up leaving me in the end. The person wouldn’t have to necessarily leave me because of death; it could just because they didn’t want to talk to me anymore of because we’ve lost contact. I don’t know. The feelings I have regarding being loved is still something I’m dealing with.

In the novel, Paul D is often described as having a “tin rusted” heart; unable to love completely but also, like Sethe, unable to be loved because of fear. This is something I can definitely relate to. Growing up I had pretty screwed up relationship with my mom. We’d argue a lot about things that may seem ridiculous to many but to me, it was all out of frustration. I don’t think I loved my mom the way that would be expected, simply because I felt as if she didn’t love me. How is it possible to love someone when you don’t feel like that person loves you? A huge part of why I felt this way and sometimes still feel this way, is because I’ve never felt like my mom loved me the same way that she did my other siblings. Like Beloved, I was desperate to know why? Why did I feel like I wasn’t treated the same, loved the same? Acting out was one way to show my mom that I was longing for attention, practically begging for it...but to no avail. To this day I still feel the tension between my mom, even between my siblings. This tension isn’t only limited to them though. Even though my father is dead, he was never really around, nor did her really ever tell me that he loved me. He didn’t even show it. The part that sucks is the fact that I’ll never know whether or not he truly loved me like he said he did. That’ll always be a mystery.