I've never run across a person who doesn't have a story about grief or pain caused by a loved one. I think it's a rite of passage for people; perhaps being wronged is just a piece of the human condition.
I'm completely fascinated with the all the ways we process situations, manage the pain, and defend the people who hurt us. People feel anger or rage, sadness, indifference, and usually guilt. Ah yes, guilt. Guilt is the worst part of it. It's the least appropriate response, and yet, the most normal. I think that's because society generally demands that we take responsibility for not just our own actions, but other people's too. Have you ever heard the saying "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." I hate that. I want to rewrite it to say: "If you fool me twice; you're just a fucking jerk." It doesn't have quite the same ring to it, eh?
But when an unlocked car is hijacked, we say things like "well what did you expect?"
If a child is kidnapped, we want to know where her parents were.
People think young women who are assaulted should have prevented it by having a buddy.
Even the PA liquor control board wants to pawn off your friend's DUI on you; if you had stopped him, he wouldn't have driven.
In all of those situations, and any other predator-victim circumstance, it's important to be smart. It's not a bad idea to keep your doors locked or your eyes on your child. Walking a friend home or taking his keys are responsible things to do. But why does the predator get off the hook? Why don't we ever talk about the guy who broke into my car, or the person who assaulted someone? Why do they get to walk away from the responsibility? And why do we, as victims, allow the blame to be placed on us? Why do we place it on ourselves?
The guilt that's felt when you become a victim, a little bit over time, has a whole different level of complexity to it. When someone you love, someone you look up to and trust, strategically changes the way you behave, the way that you think, and how you see yourself, it becomes difficult to understand or walk away. It becomes normal. It's the life you know. Seems personal, huh? Well it is.
I have a lot of guilt. I didn't protect my heart. I didn't protect my Oldest Friend. I didn't protect my family. I didn't, unfortunately, protect myself. And don't get me wrong - I have anger, and sadness; I hope one day, to progress from this intense hatred to simple indifference. But mostly, I just feel responsible.
If only I saw it. If only I listened. If only I paid attention to the little voice inside me that said "That's danger, Mushroom. That's danger." If only I had done it a little bit differently. And then what? What would it do? Would it absolve me from my sins? Would it make TxB feel more responsible? Does it change anything?
It shouldn't. It wouldn't. It might have. I could have done a lot of things to make the outcome different. If I answered no at Alsace Drive, things would be different. If I didn't shrug off working 2 jobs and going to school FT when I was under 21, things would be different. If I freaked out instead of defending, things, I assure you things would different. In ways, my friends, I won't even explain.
I think I would have gone to graduate school out of undergrad. By now, I'd likely be a mom, and maybe a wife, someplace else. I definitely wouldn't have 6 cats. I hope I'd have a better body image and an easier time asking for help. I'm certain I wouldn't be wishing the last 11.5 years hadn't happened. Maybe wishing away time will change.
But in the same way that will change, my perception of everything has too. I used think there were good parts, but I've recently come to terms with the reality that there just were not good parts. There never were. There were only slightly good times, but even they were manipulated and fabricated memories, altered and changed to suit someone else's needs. I was stripped of my emotional stability, my family's support, and my personal identity. I broke the rules for "love"; he broke the rules for himself.
Now, nearly a year later, I realize these things, and I'm coming to terms that it's time for me to stop being responsible for what has happened to me. I hope that will help the wounds heal, and the scars dissolve. I hope I'll find peace from the guilt.
It's hard to do. I'm smart and capable. To admit I've been made, for all these years, brings nothing but questions without answers to my head. I've been managed, transformed, and stifled. I molded into whatever he needed or wanted me to be. I learned to accept his word and trust him. I believed everything he said. And why? I have no answers.
On the other hand, I was 17. SEVENTEEN. What 17 year old would do it differently? He was a grown up, and it worked out this way because he had control over the situation. It's time for me to step back and see that I shouldn't be guilty. I shouldn't be responsible. I shouldn't be to blame. I am, in this case, the wronged one. It doesn't mean I am free from all of my sins. Sins, oh they exist, but there is no need to defend bad behavior. I've more than owned my parts; I don't have to own his, too.
There's always a bright side, or at least, I like to try and find it. Dinner on Saturday night was an amazing example of the ways my life has been enriched through my past. Old Man and Teach came to my life as TxB's friends, but I daresay, they are my own now. TresPageJr, their sweet and funny little girl, has been a part of almost every major event in my adult life, and she's one of the most special kids I've ever met. She has truly blessed my life. I'd like to think, and hope, that in some mall way, I have also blessed hers.
So while I'm working out what this all means in my head, I will enjoy people like TresPageJr, her Old Man and Teach. I'll replace guilt with, if I'm lucky, indifference. Eventually that indifference, I hope, will turn into joy, peace and love. I can't worry about what I could have done differently or how it's my fault. I have no idea what I should do now. Instead, I'll try to just be.
I'm completely fascinated with the all the ways we process situations, manage the pain, and defend the people who hurt us. People feel anger or rage, sadness, indifference, and usually guilt. Ah yes, guilt. Guilt is the worst part of it. It's the least appropriate response, and yet, the most normal. I think that's because society generally demands that we take responsibility for not just our own actions, but other people's too. Have you ever heard the saying "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." I hate that. I want to rewrite it to say: "If you fool me twice; you're just a fucking jerk." It doesn't have quite the same ring to it, eh?
But when an unlocked car is hijacked, we say things like "well what did you expect?"
If a child is kidnapped, we want to know where her parents were.
People think young women who are assaulted should have prevented it by having a buddy.
Even the PA liquor control board wants to pawn off your friend's DUI on you; if you had stopped him, he wouldn't have driven.
In all of those situations, and any other predator-victim circumstance, it's important to be smart. It's not a bad idea to keep your doors locked or your eyes on your child. Walking a friend home or taking his keys are responsible things to do. But why does the predator get off the hook? Why don't we ever talk about the guy who broke into my car, or the person who assaulted someone? Why do they get to walk away from the responsibility? And why do we, as victims, allow the blame to be placed on us? Why do we place it on ourselves?
The guilt that's felt when you become a victim, a little bit over time, has a whole different level of complexity to it. When someone you love, someone you look up to and trust, strategically changes the way you behave, the way that you think, and how you see yourself, it becomes difficult to understand or walk away. It becomes normal. It's the life you know. Seems personal, huh? Well it is.
I have a lot of guilt. I didn't protect my heart. I didn't protect my Oldest Friend. I didn't protect my family. I didn't, unfortunately, protect myself. And don't get me wrong - I have anger, and sadness; I hope one day, to progress from this intense hatred to simple indifference. But mostly, I just feel responsible.
If only I saw it. If only I listened. If only I paid attention to the little voice inside me that said "That's danger, Mushroom. That's danger." If only I had done it a little bit differently. And then what? What would it do? Would it absolve me from my sins? Would it make TxB feel more responsible? Does it change anything?
It shouldn't. It wouldn't. It might have. I could have done a lot of things to make the outcome different. If I answered no at Alsace Drive, things would be different. If I didn't shrug off working 2 jobs and going to school FT when I was under 21, things would be different. If I freaked out instead of defending, things, I assure you things would different. In ways, my friends, I won't even explain.
I think I would have gone to graduate school out of undergrad. By now, I'd likely be a mom, and maybe a wife, someplace else. I definitely wouldn't have 6 cats. I hope I'd have a better body image and an easier time asking for help. I'm certain I wouldn't be wishing the last 11.5 years hadn't happened. Maybe wishing away time will change.
But in the same way that will change, my perception of everything has too. I used think there were good parts, but I've recently come to terms with the reality that there just were not good parts. There never were. There were only slightly good times, but even they were manipulated and fabricated memories, altered and changed to suit someone else's needs. I was stripped of my emotional stability, my family's support, and my personal identity. I broke the rules for "love"; he broke the rules for himself.
Now, nearly a year later, I realize these things, and I'm coming to terms that it's time for me to stop being responsible for what has happened to me. I hope that will help the wounds heal, and the scars dissolve. I hope I'll find peace from the guilt.
It's hard to do. I'm smart and capable. To admit I've been made, for all these years, brings nothing but questions without answers to my head. I've been managed, transformed, and stifled. I molded into whatever he needed or wanted me to be. I learned to accept his word and trust him. I believed everything he said. And why? I have no answers.
On the other hand, I was 17. SEVENTEEN. What 17 year old would do it differently? He was a grown up, and it worked out this way because he had control over the situation. It's time for me to step back and see that I shouldn't be guilty. I shouldn't be responsible. I shouldn't be to blame. I am, in this case, the wronged one. It doesn't mean I am free from all of my sins. Sins, oh they exist, but there is no need to defend bad behavior. I've more than owned my parts; I don't have to own his, too.
There's always a bright side, or at least, I like to try and find it. Dinner on Saturday night was an amazing example of the ways my life has been enriched through my past. Old Man and Teach came to my life as TxB's friends, but I daresay, they are my own now. TresPageJr, their sweet and funny little girl, has been a part of almost every major event in my adult life, and she's one of the most special kids I've ever met. She has truly blessed my life. I'd like to think, and hope, that in some mall way, I have also blessed hers.
So while I'm working out what this all means in my head, I will enjoy people like TresPageJr, her Old Man and Teach. I'll replace guilt with, if I'm lucky, indifference. Eventually that indifference, I hope, will turn into joy, peace and love. I can't worry about what I could have done differently or how it's my fault. I have no idea what I should do now. Instead, I'll try to just be.
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