Kardong Entry 2

Jun 20, 2017 23:01

Following up with last week's post, I was listening to Strangers today and Lea (the host) has been interviewing Trump voters in an attempt to find a middle ground and she was lamenting: "Learning that the other side isn't a bunch of monsters doesn't make this any easier" and I think that's very cogent for me because while in some ways being able to see my parents as humans made/makes them less godlike and terrifying (supernatural, unknown and unknowable, etc.), it also makes it impossible to treat them and what they did to me as an 'act of god.' Acknowledging them as human means acknowleding everything that comes with that - motives, history, emotions, needs, inner lives, etc. - and choice.
'Don't spit into the wind' only works if the wind is powerless to change and doesn't have an ability to compresend what it does. Being upset by the havoc a tornado wreaks through your life makes sense, but you can't be angry with the tornado itself. But if someone sets your home on fire...?

Anyway, applying for aid for therapy is its own kind of torture. Lately, I'm just physically exhausted, in pain, and emotionally tired. Whenever I ask for help, I automatically feel like I'm lying or exaggerating. The urge to downplay and devalue what I'm going through is extremely strong. I am very uncomfortable with even the idea of exposing my inner life. In part, I think, because I'm only able to function in 'normal world' if I ignore all of that. I feel like if I were to be emotionally honest, I would just never stop crying. Painting a thick veneer over myself is the only way I know how to exist in the world.
And, honestly, that's why I hate being weak or vulnerable in front of anyone. Being emotionally honest is just the worst. Telling childhood-typicals about what happened to me never seems to go well. Like with Tom, who tries to be helpful, but somehow we just completely clash in how we want to be treated and comforted. He jokes about me being weak or silly, etc. and doesn't seem to understand that that really gets to me. When I talked to him about it, of course he apologized and said he'd stop, but I don't think he understands why it gets to me. He said basically that he knows how strong I am and that's why it's a joke, but I don't think he really gets that it's not about his impression of me, it's about my impression of myself. And also, that the things you hear over and over are the things you begin to believe.
Yesterday he thanked me for being a "bad ass" the last couple days getting him moved and that felt really good, but I don't enjoy having to prove myself. I can't quite figure out if I was actually proving myself to him or to myself though. Maybe both.
I also ended up breaking down on him and that felt awful. He kept trying to be comforting, but he said all the wrong things somehow... or I heard the wrong things, who knows. I just wish I could show him what it's like in my shoes for awhile, though I'm sure he thinks the same.
I hate that I'm not strong enough to hold up my own self-image in the face of others doubting me simply because they don't know better. It's extra hard with fibro too because I am having to "be nice" to my body, which means not doing normal things in front of people or admitting when I'm having a hard time, and then people just assume that's always the case, when it's not. I know I'm only noticing when it goes wrong, but I feel like so often people express surprise and incredulity that I cannot do "easy, normal" things and then also try to coddle me when there are things I can easily do myself.
I wish everyone were like Abe. Somehow he almost always gets that right.
I do not appreciate being patronized, especially since I've been responsible for myself my whole life and done a damn fine job, frankly. I don't like that people look at what happened to me and see "damaged" instead of "kick-ass." I wonder sometimes if I wouldn't be less bothered by the impressions of others if I had a better handle on my impression of myself. But also, in my formative years, the impressions I gave off to my parents (of being good and strong and not easily picked on) and to others (of being strong and nothing being wrong) were vital to my ability to survive and so I understand why it's so hard for me to stop caring.
My ability to appear completely self-reliant (if not to be so) is what eventually stopped Lynda's abuse and not appearing weak or tired or ready to give in to Stan kept him from taking his abuse any further than he did. How can you simply stop doing something which protected you on such a fundamental level for so long? Even after that, being strong and independent and boss kept me safe at work. Is there even a world where being emotionally vulnerable is safe? I assume yes, but it's hard to believe.

kardong

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