Angry Alone
Invisible Insignificant
Abandoned Foolish
Fake Afraid
Agitated Worried
Regret Shame
Rejected Mournful
Addicted Plagued
Evil Wicked
Sick Worthless
Crazy Broken
Disgusted Lost
Daily Archive for March 18th, 2008
I didn’t get to bed until 5am Monday morning. I set my alarm clock for 9am to call the cab company to take me to therapy. Most of the night my back was killing me.
I talked to a friend today who lives half across the country. She was complaining about her lack of sleep. She said she didn’t get to bed until 5am and that she automatically woke at 9am. She said she was in so much pain she couldn’t believe it. Of course I sat silently on the other end of the phone wondering if I should say something. Then I piped up with, “Are you serious?” I told her when I went to bed and what I set my alarm clock for. I then asked her if this is her PMS I’m feeling. If so, damn you woman, damn you!
This sort of thing happens all the time with me and her as well as me and other friends I’m really close with. So this is what I’ve concluded, before I accept new friendships I will have them fill out a questionnaire. It’ll be to protect us both…from each other. They must be able to pass the “pain test” or as I like to say, they must be in compliance with the “Pain Free Friendship Act.”
Do you or have or have you ever had any of the following? Is there a chance you will ever have any of the following? Continue reading ‘Strange Symptoms, Yours or Mine?’
The subject has come up several times in the last week on blogs that I visit. It also came up in therapy Monday so I figured I’d go ahead and put some thoughts down on paper, mostly in jumbled format. First of all, Dr. D and I discussed gender confusing messages that I got from my mother. We talked about how she kept asking me if I was a little boy and if I thought I was a little boy, are you gay, all of that since I was very little….like around age 4 until I was a grown woman. Of course there’s the sexual abuse from her, the sister and two males but what was most confusing for me was the mother and sister. I was raised to believe that men are bad and little boys are nasty. So when my mother asked me if I was a little boy or if I wanted to be a little boy she pretty much asked me if I was the very thing or wanted to be the very thing she despised. But it occurred to me early on that the safest sex to be was male. I figured that being a girl made me a sitting duck, a target. I thought being a girl was part of why I was being abused so often and by so many. I figured if I were a boy life would be easier because I figured they’re despised, disliked and therefore left alone. But that wasn’t true either because I had a brother and a male cousin who were abused. In my mind though, girl equaled hurt and boy equaled hated but safer.
My distrust for women is more specific than it use to be. Before a heck of a lot of growing up and observing and seeing most people as individuals I lumped all women together. I trusted them only when necessary and that wasn’t often. To be more specific about my level of trust, I distrusted black women more than I did any other race of women but white women followed very closely behind them. Since my main abusers are black females (two sexually abusive and the rest emotionally, physically and spiritually abusive) then it makes sense that my first fear is black women. On this very subject I explained to a friend that we as humans see with limited sight. When we’re hurt by a person we don’t see them as an individual we see their race and their gender, their height, hair colour, ect and we connect everyone with those same characteristics with the one that hurt us. It’s not that we want to dislike people that look like the one that abused us; it’s just a natural human thing. We reduce people to what they look like. So that’s what happened, I didn’t trust women because I was abused mainly by women. And I nearly hated black women because the women that abused me are black. How on earth does one come to grips with the fact that they hate the very gender and race that they are and how does that person get to a comfort level in their own skin?
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