The process of building boundaries, rebuilding ourselves and attempting to nullify old conditioning, is nothing short of exhausting and painful. It’s the growth process. Growing pains.
The only real thing I have to look back on, to verify who I once was, is through memories. That includes good and bad. It includes every poor decision I have ever made, to stay silent instead of speaking out. To panic inside, while maintaining a cool persona so to not make waves. Every time I smiled or cried. Every time something simply beautiful, would capture my heart. These are echos of what was…once… The memories I have of those things, as well as of myself, are the only building blocks I have left. Echos. Memories. Shadows. What is left of the life that once was? Good and bad? That is the rubble beneath my feet. I’m speaking figuratively, of course. That includes my core.
The memories are there, in conjunction with the abuse we have suffered, to teach us what was, what is, and what needs to be. The memories tell us (along with introspection) what created each subsequent event, or allowed for it. What allowed the abuse to be in our lives to begin with. It’s those things that are at the root of all the abuse we have endured. I’m not lumping in childhood abuse, of course. That is something that the adults in our lives allowed to take place, by their own actions or inaction. I’m talking about those areas that we allowed in our lives, regardless of any fear-based inaction on our own parts.
A few months ago, I started talking about the rebuilding process. I went in, as I’m quite known for, all balls and no plan. I just went with the one thing that seemed to be the most prominent…never allowing for any abuse, ever again. The most obvious direction is learning how to speak up, when I’m mistreated or threatened in any way. That’s a no-brainer. I learned the beginning of any abuse is accentuated by the silence of the victim, whether that be of his/her own accord, or at the hands of the abuser. In order for that abuser to gain an upper hand, the intended victim needs to be unsure of him/herself, and subsequently stay silent. It’s the silence that perpetuates any abuse.
I haven’t been silent since escaping my last situation. In fact, I have been hyper aware and entirely vigilant in protecting myself. That includes any supposed threat or slight. My anger quotient is high on the Richter scale. My tendency to become irritable also ranks up “there”. In and of itself, this isn’t a bad thing. When it is lacking for-thought or any sort of balance? Lets just say, it’s not such a wonderful experience for anyone involved. Least of all, myself. I am forced to step back a little, and observe what hind-sight is trying to teach me. I have to revisit the process in order to find a better direction. No, I haven’t killed or hurt anyone. I’ve looked like an absolute ass, though.
The direction I’ve been on, though the end result is the desired one, isn’t the best.
I wonder if it wouldn’t be prudent to write out a plan, including those things or areas that are acceptable from others, and what reaction or action is needed in response?
The positive here, though, is the fact that even amongst the rubble under my proverbial feet, I still have something to start from. I’m not starting from completely “nothing”. The rubble is something to learn FROM. It’s also something that I can build from. I can choose which pieces to keep and build from, and which ones to burn to dust.
Baby steps… Step one…make a plan. Decide what is most pressing and most important. Put the pieces together and see how they fit. The first attempt isn’t always the best one. I’ll keep on keeping on. I want to see the end of this!
Side note: I’m still seeing the salesman. I may have been hasty. Eyes wide open, not ignoring anything. He has cats, that I have always been life-threateningly allergic to. Told my mom about that, and mentioned having problems breathing around them, still. Her reply? “Oh, don’t let him get rid of his cats! That wouldn’t be fair to them!” I had to make a choice there. I wanted to bring to her attention that I am more important than the cats and it’s unfair to ME that my health is worth less than a cat’s well-being. I didn’t. I chose to let it go. My mom’s health is more important than the point I wanted to make.