Wednesday, June 22, 2016

Silent No More

Shame.
That's a word I don't have a lot of experience with.  I can say that I haven't really done many things that I'm ashamed of doing.
I don't shame myself.
But I'm finding out recently how heavy is the weight of the shame others put on me.
I don't like it.

"If you hadn't been born, none of this would have happened."
Shame on you.
"You were illegitimate?"
Shame on you.
"You were molested... abused... thrown away?"
Shame. Shame. Shame.
"Why aren't you like everyone else?"
Shame on you.
"Can't you just make it look like everything is alright?"
Shame on you.
"Why do you have to talk about those things?"
Shame on you.

Well, I refuse to carry that anymore.  That shame is yours, not mine.
My story has a voice and it refuses to be silenced.
I don't want your hand-me-downs, and I don't need your pity.
I'm an adult.
None of this was my fault.
I refuse to continue to kowtow to the powers that be, allowing them to define me as they see fit, rather than BE strong, to be me.

From now on, I'm making my own way.  I'm following my own rules.
I'm going to continue to not fit in or be like you expect me to be.
I've been through things, and that has changed me.
It makes me different.  That's good.
I wouldn't wish it on anybody to be like me.

So you have a choice to make.
Choose wisely, not like in the past.
Don't label me.
Don't misjudge me.

And if you do, shame on you.

Friday, June 10, 2016

Make a choice already

I've spent the majority of my life deciding what I didn't want to be.

I didn't want to be a victim.
A victim like my mother, brutalized by someone she loved.  A victim like my grandmother who fought the demons but lost.  A victim like that lost little girl that men touched and kissed and based her worth on her looks.

I didn't want to be dependent on a man for... anything.
I didn't want a man to tell me if I could spend money or not.  Not like my mom.
I didn't want to need a man to fix things, open things, protect me from things.

I didn't want to be different.
Not the shy girl who couldn't meet your gaze.  Not the adopted girl who didn't look like the rest of the family..  Not the girl who scratched rashes or had non-stop cold sores. Not the girl with the past so scary that she couldn't talk about it.

I didn't want to be used.
Not by any one.  Least of all by a father who treated me like a possession. Or an uncle with disgusting motives. Or any one of the boys who tried to lure me away into dark rooms and wooded trails.

I didn't want to be afraid.
Afraid of an abusive father with a quick temper.  Afraid of turning out like my mother.  Afraid of being less than.  Afraid of not being able to protect myself and the ones I loved. Afraid of the dark.  Afraid of the silence.  Afraid of closed doors and unknown places.  Afraid of people and afraid of myself.  Afraid of making the wrong choice.  Afraid of losing everything... again.

I didn't want to be alone.

The problem is that while I was so focused on not being something, I didn't choose what I did want to be.  I just let my life morph me into someone hard, jaded, solitary, non-trusting, fierce, abrasive and wildly independent.    I built walls greater than the ones Trump has planned.  I learned to disconnect from my body, to not respond to touch.  I learned to free myself from external emotion, to pace my breathing and maintain control.  I learned to hide all emotion and project a blank canvas that didn't belie the turmoil just below the surface.

They say if it doesn't kill you, it makes you stronger.  I'm not sure that's the case.  I think it makes you harder.  People stop trying to get in, stop trying to penetrate the fortress that's been reinforced with fat and sarcasm on the outside, hurt and loneliness on the inside.  People pull away-- or are driven away-- and every fear about people is realized.

People suck.  People leave.  People hurt.  People disappoint.  People are... people.  And supposedly I need them.  Well, that's what I'm told.  I don't totally buy into that.  I'm skeptical.  But maybe I don't want to be.