Has someone ever made you feel completely worthless? Do you know they project their own unworthiness upon you? They will tear you completely down in order to build themselves up. That’s the empowerment they need to feel. Well, just to feel something, anything.
As a person with elevated super traits of agreeableness, tolerance, compassion, trusting, empathy and the list goes on, we become a target, the prey that these predators long for, need and seek out to find, possess and eventually… destroy for their sick pleasure of watching you suffer. They glorify in the fear they inflict and revel in your pain.
This is sadism at its sickest.
The only way to overcome the affects of this torturous lifestyle you’ve been a victim of, is to educate yourself so you can become smarter than they are sick. During the early stages of your healing recovery process you will begin to see all the ways in which you were misused and abused. It isn’t your fault. Because of your elevated loving super traits, you want to believe that others in this world are as you are, but sadly, those ones are not and never can be.
When you can finally come to terms with, it isn’t that they won’t change who they are, it is that they can’t, you will begin to breathe again. Personalities are hardwired and these predators are exactly that, animals. They have but one mission, to fuel their every need with the supply you provide.
Sitting with my 10 1/2 year old granddaughter as she’s doing 5th grade history homework, she reads passages to me and abruptly stops to declare, “that’s not right Grammy!” Clearly she’s upset, knowing her as well as I do, she expresses her opinion about the paragraph she just read. “They’re not Indians, that’s not okay to say. I’m not writing that for my answer.” My heart, warmed by her compassion and directness, I explained first that “history” is what we’re being told because we didn’t live back then. She balked at that, but then I commended her for being appalled and asked her what her preference is to fill in the blank on her paper. She said she would just write Americans. Then I handed her the missing tool and suggested she add Native to her answer. She smiled, agreed and wrote her new choice.
While I try to be cognitive of teachable moments and what I often find is I’m not always the teacher, regardless of someone’s age. We talked a little more about this. I praised her for standing on her convictions, beliefs and using her voice. I thought to myself how oppression has been the downfall of my life, hence the internal struggle. I can only imagine the horrific stories from history and particular heritages, what they encountered and endured.
The topic of evolving took place with her next. We aren’t where we once were, but we aren’t yet where (I hope) we are going either. That’s being a difference maker, I explained. Not just standing by, quietly accepting the unacceptable or tolerating intolerance. Tell me more about your heart, I asked her. Never dismiss or fear the true words, thoughts and feelings of a child (or adult) because given a safe space, they will always honor their truth.
Is it merely human nature or even the human condition that we make up stories in our own minds, judging others for why they are in the spot they are in in life? It happens all the time, the assumption of another’s choices and blaming them for why they are in this or that predicament when the reality is, we can’t possibly know their story without asking them. We simply don’t know what we don’t know. (wisdom from my wise 87 year old friend)
Taking a moment to understand someone else as I listen to their thought provoking perspective makes me smile in gratitude. Being right is far less important to me than loving someone where they are. That being said, I leave you with this mantra; I’ll be quiet (not silent), you can be right and I’ll be happy. There is no price tag on civility and Serenity, but there sure as shootin’ is a cost for close mindedness.
If God (insert your personal Source here) meant for us to pray and believe only one way, why did He create so much diversity? Love is love for humankind. Be the change you want to see. Fear less by being fearless. I’m proud of my (almost 5) grand-youngsters and what their parents (my kids) are teaching them about equality and human rights. It’s a beautiful thing to witness.
Reflection over my life so far, I’ve learned to run after a positive mindset. Greatly wanting to live this way, but always battling with it. I can give kudos and be outwardly uplifting with an abundance of encouragement, for you. This is who I am. This is what I do. But what about me? Where is that self care and love component to gift myself?
They tell me self forgiveness and acceptance is how I will achieve this. Then I go down the rabbit hole where the misery lives. It’s dark and damp, with cobwebs and it kind of smells like death. I don’t purposely fall down in there. I do allow others to trample my heart and that’s when I find myself climbing out yet again.
So far spending time getting reacquainted with me has been both enlightening and disappointing at the same time. Regret is not a common word in my vocabulary. I’ve enough emotional recovery and healing to understand the positive influence every experience has had on my spirit. Then I tend to combat it with a negative connotation because this is how I have been conditioned. Trained out of deserving peace and comfort, even joy. At least on a more often than not basis. That can be debilitating and quite depressing.
I’ve come to dislike those positive memes. Don’t send me the rainbows and unicorns with puppies and kitties telling me to have a bright sun shiny day. Those don’t resonate with me. I need to know that I’ve walked through some hard fucking shit and I am a survivor. In other words, remind me how far I’ve come and that I am ok!
I know this too shall pass and all the other quirky slogans I’ve learned and implemented into my everyday living, but most days I simply need to just be authentically me. A craft I have yet to perfect and likely never will, but my ultimate goal… to be comfortable in my own damn skin. Finding that balance between my own satisfaction and happiness while participating in this event called life. Is it always going to be a chore or will I wake up one day and everything will magically just smooth out? I highly doubt that and I am curious to know the antidote. Meanwhile I will just keep on keeping on, loving you with my whole heart as I work to gift this to myself.
She was tenacious when it came to believing what she thought she needed, and that was him. Far beyond their expiration date and her tolerance of his neglect and torment she clung. White knuckling the life she fantasized, the tighter her grip, the more relentless he became. The addiction cycle prevailed as the destruction and demise ensued.
Breathing had transformed into a chore, labored and choking. His twisted beliefs ravaged her every thought, move and decisions that were no longer hers to make. He had devoured her and she was consumed. Her immediate response to his touch, his words and especially his body language, was to never disappoint him while completely betraying herself.
She had found herself tethered to this neurotic, sadistic human, whom she would discover was really an empty, wounded, broken shell. His pain inside ignored heightened his desire to inflict it upon her. Emotionally, physically and especially psychologically as he pulled her cuffs tighter, his noose around her neck cinched as she gulped. She was his kept property.
How could she break free of the restraints and stay by his side? She could only dream, and that’s all she ever did. Her body was not her own. She had long since detached from it. How else could she endure this life she found herself in?
He was good at this game. Distracting her from her own mind. Convoluting his words while mincing them with his actions. Was she crazy? Could he be right? Did she not hear what he truly meant? Her brain on fire as she worked to read between the transcripts of their one sided conversations. He’s a bully, she thought to herself. More than the mean kid on the playground. Is that where it started with him? She wondered.
She struggled daily to analyze the two of them. Her heart longed for what it could never receive. Her brain constantly reconciling with what was happening. Maybe he’s right. She is the broken little girl inside after all. She must be the one who needs fixing so she will continue to abide by his every rule and expectation of her. Keep working for his love, attention and affection is what she told herself.
This ball of yarn, tattered and worn, had become her sacred space to cling to now. Somewhere, deeply within it, was holding her hope. How will she find it and retrace her way back? She knows she has battle scars and wounds running deep. She didn’t come out of this unscathed, but going from victim to survivor has been her only goal these days. She’ll keep talking and writing until that skein is down to its last bit of what has her bound still. Until then, she’ll do what it takes to unravel the mass of devastation. His secretive ways being revealed, unveiling them for her sanity, saving her soul.
A big stretch up to the sky as dawn kisses her cheek. Good morning she says, aloud to the silence. She greets each day with a grateful heart. Deep breath in and a long exhalation of the past that sometimes haunts her still.
With another gift, an abundance of love, she questions the validity of her life. Her purpose she thought she once knew, rendered obsolete, nothing was true. Being reminded by this fragrance and that special place, letting go isn’t so easy, but necessary to keep on breathing.
Today is less about the loss of what was as more emphasis is put on the freedom she is reluctant to feel, but now is. She watches them while she sees the light flicker in their eyes. Others who pay her the attention she was always instructed to ignore. She smiles back at them now and then, yet inside, deeply feeling rejection towards all.
Too soon or too late, she is where she is, growing and learning simply wanting new friends. No longer seeking that white knighted, makeshift alpha or fake savior. Becoming comfortable with her own company while she continues to blossom and bloom. They don’t understand, although some say they do, that her completeness comes from the brokenness within.