Empath or survivalist?
"Erin Mechelle, get out of that bed RIGHT NOW and clean this bathroom. You're so disgusting. I swear you are worthless."
It was 2 am and I was dead asleep. She barged in, emphasized every single descriptive word and drove it as deep as she could. She made sure I knew I was the bottom of the scum of the scum in the very bottom of the barrel.
Why?? I had dropped a sock as I left the shower that night. How could I? I knew better. I was so meticulous. But, I did. Somehow, I did. I'm such a fuck up.
Those who have endured abuse feel EVERYTHING deeply. We survived by paying attention, picking up on those oh so telling cues that warned us our asses were about to get beat.
Clenched fists. Stiff shoulders. Pursed lips. They way they breathe. Walk. Move. Even their eyes change to something other than human. Perhaps demons do exist.
We become so sensitive that a simple huff can make us comply. God forbid we aren't paying attention and we get to the slamming door phase.
It's our fault we didn't pick up on their cues. We should have heard them huff from 3 rooms away and went running to serve our masters. Right??
In the animal kingdom, ranking is determined by who is most dominant. The infliction of pain is used as a method of teaching.. along with raised fur, growls and other mama wolf type behaviors. But we aren't animals.
As humans, higher beings, we were gifted with the verbal ability to express wants, needs, desires, dislikes, likes.... we have morals.
Abusers know their wants are irrational. Verbalizing them would only serve to prove how stupid their wants really are, leaving room for someone to call them out or refuse to give in to the silly demand. Instead, they instill fear in others to combat the fear of rejection within themselves. If abusers aren't aggressive in their approach.... others just might set boundaries for themselves. Oh, no, they can't have that.
Unfortunately, this fear was instilled in me long ago. Far before any boyfriend. Far before adulthood.
Don't make them angry or there will be hell to pay. I had learned that lesson and I was an excellent student.
Unfortunately, I was set up for failure. Already taught to give, give, give... no matter the cost to my soul. I was always trapped.
"He's napping.... Do I dare go for a walk without asking? Dare I wake him to ask.. oh, I definitely can't. But the kids are restless and bored and need to run around. If I keep them in the house, being loud.... oh, he will be pissed if he gets woken up. What do I do?"
The bedroom door flings open, smacking into the wall behind it. It's too late.
I remember just how scared I was to make a decision. Any decision. I was always wrong.
If you have ever stared into a gas station fridge for 20 minutes, wondering if you will pick the wrong drink FOR YOURSELF... you know exactly how it feels when I say... "I can't decide."
In my previous blog, I stated, "I was afraid to go to the gas station." That fear was a mix of emotions and a shit storm of irrational thoughts. Are their bad guys out there who could get me? Sure, but, that wasn't the nail in the coffin. The nail was ME... the fear instilled in me that I would make a wrong choice. ... because, as my mother said, I really am worthless.
"What if I take too long? It only takes 2 minutes to go into the store, pick a drink, and pay for gas. Will he think I was doing something wrong? Oh God... He will think I'm cheating. I can't do this. I can't deal with this. I'm just going to stay home."
Thinking of back then - and by "back then" I am referring to just 5 years ago - I was paralyzed by a fear I couldn't let go of. It was so deeply embedded within, I couldn't do the simplest things.
As mothers, it is ingrained in us to do what is best for the children. What happens when that deeply seeded instinct clashes with a deeper rooted fear of emotional and physical violence. The storm ...that storm... when it happens within a mother's soul, it cannot be measured.
Lightning, thunder, hail, wind. It's all swirling inside of us. And we can't decide. We are frozen in place.
I know I am giving you bits and pieces... snap shots of my life. I haven't worked up the courage to tell the bad parts, but, I am getting there.
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