Haha I crack myself up with the vitamin reference, but this emotional purging will be like B1 for my soul. The plan is to talk about one feeling each and every day in hopes that it will break the heartless cripple that I have become. So here goes...
Guilt. I'm starting here because i've been carrying this one the longest and I pick bits and pieces of it up all over the place like litter that I still haven't found a trash bin for. Guilt and I go way back, as far as I can remember. Guilt about my parents marriage and guilt over their divore. Guilt about my moms hard knock life and her lackluster coping mechanisms. Guilt about being a kid who could get in loads of trouble without getting caught. Until I got caught.
Having a sexual relationship with a 29 year old man is legal if your 16. How fucking crazy is that? Working at a rape crisis agency you learn a lot about sexual assault, how it's all about power and control, and you wonder who has the power in that relationship? Oh well. Past is past. Really?
We are aware that our society runs rampant with victim blaming. It's the perpetraters who commit the crime, regardless of any choice the victim made, good OR bad. As an advocate, it's easy to tell a person "it's not your fault, this never should have happened to you." But when your the victim being blamed...by the police officers investigating and the "justice" system, by your friends, by your own parents...it's a lot easier to feel guilty.
And so I do. I know it was not my fault. I know it shouldn't have happened to me. I was a naive and curious, perhaps a bit stupid but definitely neglected kid. He was a grown ass man. Funny, I just realized that ALL the men in my life have problems taking responsibility. Sure puts a shit ton of weight on my shoulders.
To be honest, maybe I like it that way. It's my comfort zone, the brand of "normal" that I"m used to. With the side benefit that if I pull all the wieght I can make sure it gets done. I'm in control. I can't get hurt.
Right?
But I do get hurt. I have expectations, wants and needs that can never be filled because I never speak them. I try hard to forget them, turn my back and close my mind. Childish really, holding my hands over my ears and squeezing my eyes shut tight while screaming "IcanthearyouIcanthearyouIcanthearyou." Thats a whole lot of effort being put forth to tune out myself. I'm very familiar with being unimportant. I take care, good care, of everyone else. But me.
I think someone should have the job of taking care of me. It was never my parents priority...I took care of them. It was never my boyfriends' priority...I took care of them. It has never been my priority, yeah you guessed it...I took care of THEM. Mom, Dad, Jeff, Jamie, Molly, Tommy, Sarah, Jim, Nic, Dave, and now Hayden. When will it STOP?
I want someone to take care of me, but I don't want to ask for it. It's less than convienient that I tend to push away people who try because to me they seem stupid or weak or ...too strong, too healthy, and too likely to hurt me when they see that I'm putting on a show. The "Jenna is fine and functioning show," welcome to it.
We are all broken. I'm learning to accept myself as part of that "We" but I can only take one step at a time.
2 comments:
patterns are hard to break. your started when you were teeny, and they have followed you around...you're right...the men in your life don't take the responsibility. and you put it on yourself. But it keeps you far from unhurt, because you always have the hope that they will step up...I am proud of you for doing this kind of digging into yourself...
Thanks Becca, it's long over due. I need to start putting myself first. Or at least on the list somewhere near the top. :) Work in progress.
Post a Comment