Wed. May 18th, 2022

I started a conversation in two parts with two different people over the past 24 hours. My brain hurts because I have not had a chance to come to a conclusion in either one of them.

I mean, I rarely come to a full stop in any chat but this one is plaguing my thoughts.

One part: therapy as me focusing on how I was mistreated as a child. I am bothered by how my mother is demonised. You can form your opinions on how she treated me but how can you say that you could do any differently with her set of circumstances? You cannot. You can only devise that you could do better with your insight as to the person you are. If you were raised with the horrors she experienced you might as well have done exactly as she did – try being a parent while you loathe yourself, loathe the children you had by men that abused you, hated you, treated you like you were merchandise or worse, an animal that could be left for dead in a refuse container and no one would care if anyone ever found your rotting corpse and those very children that you wake up to every day never listen to your words, they seem to act like the very fathers that you try to forget but you cannot so you self-medicate to attempt to but you never seem to get their faces out of your mind, do you?

And who feels for you, mama? No one. Everyone thinks you did this to yourself but you were only a child yourself. Nobody was there to hold you and tell you that it would be okay, we can find a solution to this. No. You were called a nigger-lover and spat at. Your own father disowned you and ignored you while you lived in his house. He pretended like his granddaughter did not exist.

Your brothers taunted you and the things the neighbours said about you!

Looking at this not as my mother but as a woman, another human breaks my fucking heart.

Yes, I was neglected and abused because she lived in her head to protect herself.

But do how can I blame her for doing her best for just trying to survive?

I cannot.

However, due to these actions, I was abused. I pretended like it did not happen because to say it did I became a victim. And I also became a bad sister because I did not protect my brother well enough.

I wore this victim mask behind the lie of NOT being abused. NO OF COURSE I WAS NEVER ABUSED I KNOW RIGHT HOW WEIRD THAT I GREW UP LIKE THAT BUT WAS NEVER ABUSED HUH

I lied about it for so long and so hard that I knew if I ever let anyone close they would know. They would just SEE it. Smell it taste it know it.

And they would be frightened of me or angry or ashamed.

So I never told.

Two: I never had any attention. I was ignored so deeply that sometimes I would only hear my voice when I spoke at school. And then I would not shut up. It was either muted or rambling to the point of being put in the hallway for discipline. I had no way of regulating myself. During school holidays I could go days without speaking.

When I started dating, the attention drove me mad. At first, I did not like it. Then I craved it like drugs. I would cause drama to get it. “Even negative attention is attention.”

The pressure to have sex became an issue. I did not appreciate this aspect of romantic relationships. I did not like the physical contact as much as the attention. I traded relationships for afterschool activities after the first relationship ended badly.

I am not sure if I am going to do a very good job explaining this in writing, but the companionships I kept in high school were complete and utter chaos. Every person I got “close” to was mentally ill in some way. My first boyfriend had been in an institution for attempting to murder his sister. The next one was a schizophrenic that stalked me for years (and was an adult). After him, I was engaged to someone that beat his mother and eventually me (let us not forget the nearly-had relationships that I walked away from before they picked up speed: one with my best gay friend. He and I were lovely together but only because we both knew nothing would come out of it. I was also seeing two brothers – neither of them knew, one was younger than I was and was completely infatuated with me and gave me loads of attention, followed me around like a lovesick puppy. He wrote me love letters and gave me trinkets. I messed with his brother on the weekends because he was hyper-sexual and offered me a detached way of learning what to do. He did not do anything for me but there was a certain level of power that came with this dynamic. I was positive I was going to get caught. I never did. I was not attached to either of them nor did I promise myself to them but I knew what I was doing was not right. I broke it off with both of them after a few weeks. I never told anyone what I was doing. I started going to church again after that).

If you were to speak to these people, they could find fault with what they did. The narrative was always their “fault”. And sure, their reactions could have been better.

Make no mistake, I was the problem.

When you are the victim, nothing anyone else does is ever good enough. I set impossible standards that no one could ever meet. I was never going to be happy. I did not want to be in any of these relationships. The more turmoil that was created, the more attention I got. We would make up, it was okay for a while and then it would get bad again.

If I was honest and mature, I would need to let my partner know who I was. We would need to share and have open communication. If we started there, I would have never been with them. I was only there because they wanted me.

I did not know how to be alone. Or how to establish boundaries. I would set up drama to piss people off, I would get the reaction I expected and then I was abused.

I could wear the victim mask another day.

I would leave, they would come back after me. I only went back to one of them.

The others? I never wanted them in the first place so walking away was easy. Staying away was a relief. Someone else just like them was often waiting right behind them.

This comfortable pattern has played out so many times I could hum this tune backwards.

I just did not know what it was until now.

I may be the product of my environment but wow
you think you escaped being a fucking asshole (beep! wrong!)

I got told in a conversation a few months ago that I was abused by someone else. I was hurt and confused but I still said that I was sorry. I did not understand how I did anything to harm this person.

When I asked my friends how this could be, they were aghast with disgust towards this person. I have absolved from any and all wrongdoing. Why?

I could not have done anything wrong, duh. I am the abused.

Well, the joke is on me, girl!

The apology I gave that day was superficial. I said I was sorry because no one likes to hear that they have hurt someone. Sure, I did not know a thing that human was going through – BUT I DID NOT NEED TO! He wore every bit of his anguish on his sleeve and I made everything about me! ME ME ME because the world revolves around my selfish ass! I was not only the worst romantic partner, I WAS A TERRIBLE FRIEND. I have no idea what love means much less how to be reliable enough to be there for someone when they are suffering. The amount of shame I feel… I could give myself so many outs on this one but I refuse. I reacted like a proper shit towards someone that gave me at least a dozen chances.

Oh what, you did not know that? No of course you do not. You only know how badly *I* had it. You do not know what I did. I may not have known how to function due to the situation. I may not be great at cues and inconsistent communication. But do you know what? Being a good person and treating people with basic dignity goes a long way.

And I failed there.
I did not even treat myself with respect.

Therapy feels like psychological torture.

Both people I started these conversations with asked me if I had plans to bring these revelations with me into my next relationship. Both times, I had to pause.

Next relationship?

 

 

Edited: no, I am not dismissing being abused. Ffs. I am taking responsibility for MY PART of these relationships. They did not play out the way it appears. There is this running narrative that I am this useless, stupid bug that gets played over and over again by these vicious men that see me as a Pollyanna. STOP IT.

Please.

Do I know what I am doing when this is happening? No. But I would suspect I will be aware of it now.

I am doing what I can to be a better version of myself. I do not understand why some of you take this as me trying to absolve others like I am also delusional. That is not the point.

I am not innocent of wrongdoing. I caused harm. Does that mean I deserved to be hurt in return?

No, of course not.

Do you know what it does mean? That I am human and like all other humans, I have the ability to grow and learn and hopefully do better.

But so do they.