Friday night, or 3:30am Saturday morning, I was, once again, tossed aside, asked to leave, judged and found lacking, rejected.
My gut reaction is shame. I think, “If I were more fun, skinnier, younger, had longer and blonder hair, less serious, more light-hearted, not so fucking smart and analytical, he would love me. He would not scream at me. He would listen to me. He would not have let me be abused and then told me to go. I blame myself for overthinking, for wanting too much depth, for everything. If I were not SO VERY ME, he (they?) would love me.”
I’ve written of this before. “You make me do this”, the words my grandfather repeated as he touched me, are tattooed upon my brain. Time for the laser or lobotomy. Perhaps both would be useful.
And, as much as I want to blame my perceived deficits and flaws for the abysmal behavior of various men in my life, I just don’t have that kind of power. I don’t have the power to make someone an abusive asshole, nor do I have the power to make them a saint.
So today, I write as a reminder to myself, and every woman who feels blame and shame over the shit thrown at them by their poor choices. The poor choice was and is ours, own that. Make new choices, starting today.
The abuse and shit? That’s on them, and we just aren’t powerful enough to make another person do a damn thing.
Light and Love,