"Monsters of the present are the monsters of the past."
Some things never change. Not really.
With those particular things remaining constant, I must now decide if my means of dealing with them must shift. Do I resort to instinct, cut ties and move on with my life? Do I talk about my feelings, hope that talking will be an agent of change, and continue traveling along the same path? I've been waffling between these two options for the last several days.
Cutting ties seems to be my typical response. Whether with a place, a person, or a situation: this tie-cutting is often the result of some deal-breaker that prevents continued growth and advancement of a relationship. With regard to my current dilemma, I think I might have reached my point-of-no-return. I'm beginning to recognize that the situation is more harmful than helpful, and I worry that I am not equipped to truly transform it into something positive. I've tried for years, and nothing has worked.
However, when I do cut ties, I often deeply regret having bailed. I constantly question my motives for taking such drastic measures, and this regret makes me feel like a terrible person. Yet, looking back, it seems like these questions rarely reveal that I'd made the wrong decision, but instead expose the Catholic guilt deeply set as the underlying influence of all my decision-making. While I am conscious of this influence, the decision is no more easier to process.
And I'm not terribly certain that talking about it will make any difference. It seems like people don't hear me. Really hear me. I get that selective listening happens. Lines get crossed and we hear what we need to hear; we shift what's being said to cope with the pain of it. I've been there, too.
I guess the truth is that I don't want to fight. I don't want my feelings to be up for discussion. The last time I tried to talk about my concerns, they were deemed invalid and were completely stripped of their value in the conversation. Regardless of how calmly and how respectfully they were expressed, my feelings didn't matter. Their only purpose was to justify pent-up anger toward me. I'd been used. Twisted and used. Not because of what I said or how I said it, per se, but because the other person involved hadn't dealt with their own stuff.
Realistically, the blame is never solely on one person; where I accepted my role in the problem, they did not. Even when I had accepted all blame, for every wrongdoing in the relationship, the anger raged on. It made demotion from friendship to acquaintanceship, which had happened naturally over many years, far from amicable. I wanted amicable. I didn't want to lose contact completely. And now, when I think about talking through these sorts of deal-breakers again, even in hopes of resolving them, I recoil.
I need to make peace with myself about my decision.
With those particular things remaining constant, I must now decide if my means of dealing with them must shift. Do I resort to instinct, cut ties and move on with my life? Do I talk about my feelings, hope that talking will be an agent of change, and continue traveling along the same path? I've been waffling between these two options for the last several days.
Cutting ties seems to be my typical response. Whether with a place, a person, or a situation: this tie-cutting is often the result of some deal-breaker that prevents continued growth and advancement of a relationship. With regard to my current dilemma, I think I might have reached my point-of-no-return. I'm beginning to recognize that the situation is more harmful than helpful, and I worry that I am not equipped to truly transform it into something positive. I've tried for years, and nothing has worked.
However, when I do cut ties, I often deeply regret having bailed. I constantly question my motives for taking such drastic measures, and this regret makes me feel like a terrible person. Yet, looking back, it seems like these questions rarely reveal that I'd made the wrong decision, but instead expose the Catholic guilt deeply set as the underlying influence of all my decision-making. While I am conscious of this influence, the decision is no more easier to process.
And I'm not terribly certain that talking about it will make any difference. It seems like people don't hear me. Really hear me. I get that selective listening happens. Lines get crossed and we hear what we need to hear; we shift what's being said to cope with the pain of it. I've been there, too.
I guess the truth is that I don't want to fight. I don't want my feelings to be up for discussion. The last time I tried to talk about my concerns, they were deemed invalid and were completely stripped of their value in the conversation. Regardless of how calmly and how respectfully they were expressed, my feelings didn't matter. Their only purpose was to justify pent-up anger toward me. I'd been used. Twisted and used. Not because of what I said or how I said it, per se, but because the other person involved hadn't dealt with their own stuff.
Realistically, the blame is never solely on one person; where I accepted my role in the problem, they did not. Even when I had accepted all blame, for every wrongdoing in the relationship, the anger raged on. It made demotion from friendship to acquaintanceship, which had happened naturally over many years, far from amicable. I wanted amicable. I didn't want to lose contact completely. And now, when I think about talking through these sorts of deal-breakers again, even in hopes of resolving them, I recoil.
I need to make peace with myself about my decision.