Progress
Well, I'm proud of myself and not ashamed to say it. :D
I got hurt by a flyway comment the newest ex jotted down, so I wrote an email about it following the basic guidelines of fighting fair and taking issue with the person's action not thier character and I got a nice email with an apology back.
I feel good. This is the first time when I've actually done this properly and had it work out- as in response, explanation, apology. When I've attempted it in the past I simply got silence, or a stone wall, or an angry tirade.
It is also one of the first times when I felt speaking up for my own sense of value as a person and confronting someone about doing something I felt was mean to me was more important than not rocking the boat.
There is something about sincere apologies which makes me want to cry. Like a thirsty man being given a drink of water. Throughout my life the people who should have looked after me, and people who claimed to love me consistently violated my boundaries and taught me whether they intended it or not, to devalue myself as a human being. Speaking up and out against that feels like one of the most frightening things I've ever done (akin to Oliver Twist going Please sir, can I have some more?) and I still half-expect to get dragged off and slammed into some brig for my insolence.
After years of getting told in one way or another: what you are feeling and thinking is not valid and real, and all pigs are equal but my pig (needs, desires) is more equal than yours, after being told consistently that I am too sensitive, that no one has done anything bad and I'm just imagining it, to have someone acknowledge that they hurt my feelings and apologise for it because my feelings and me have value tends to blow me away and leave me very shaky with emotion.
Because after all my stumbling around in the desert, to finally reach a well of water no matter how small and sparse is overwhelming.
I can remember each time when soemone has apologised to me and really meant it. All nine instances of it.
Seems kind of sad for twenty three and a half years worth of living.
I got hurt by a flyway comment the newest ex jotted down, so I wrote an email about it following the basic guidelines of fighting fair and taking issue with the person's action not thier character and I got a nice email with an apology back.
I feel good. This is the first time when I've actually done this properly and had it work out- as in response, explanation, apology. When I've attempted it in the past I simply got silence, or a stone wall, or an angry tirade.
It is also one of the first times when I felt speaking up for my own sense of value as a person and confronting someone about doing something I felt was mean to me was more important than not rocking the boat.
There is something about sincere apologies which makes me want to cry. Like a thirsty man being given a drink of water. Throughout my life the people who should have looked after me, and people who claimed to love me consistently violated my boundaries and taught me whether they intended it or not, to devalue myself as a human being. Speaking up and out against that feels like one of the most frightening things I've ever done (akin to Oliver Twist going Please sir, can I have some more?) and I still half-expect to get dragged off and slammed into some brig for my insolence.
After years of getting told in one way or another: what you are feeling and thinking is not valid and real, and all pigs are equal but my pig (needs, desires) is more equal than yours, after being told consistently that I am too sensitive, that no one has done anything bad and I'm just imagining it, to have someone acknowledge that they hurt my feelings and apologise for it because my feelings and me have value tends to blow me away and leave me very shaky with emotion.
Because after all my stumbling around in the desert, to finally reach a well of water no matter how small and sparse is overwhelming.
I can remember each time when soemone has apologised to me and really meant it. All nine instances of it.
Seems kind of sad for twenty three and a half years worth of living.