I can't believe it's been a month since my last post. It's been a strange, mostly shitty month. Two good things? It's finally cooled off and the car goes in on Tuesday. Oh, and Domino's does a fantastic sub. There. 3 positive things.
I'm about to head into my 6th week of the Shrink Yourself online program. I haven't really lost more than a couple of pounds but I'm not bingeing or overeating, either, and for me, that's huge. Typically, the smallest thing will have me dumping groceries down my neck.
What's going on right now is I'm asserting myself a lot more (which is also huge for me. I've always swallowed everything and blown up at a later date) and a lot of shit is coming up from the past. For instance, at 4:00 yesterday morning I remembered being 7 years old and getting slapped across the face hard in the locker room of the local YMCA. Apparently, an older girl, whose little sister I'd been playing with, accused me of calling her a bitch. At the age of 7, I was not using language like that. I never called her anything, but she said I did and she drilled me in the face, wet-handed. I recall blowing up and trying to hit her back, only to be restrained by 2 of her friends. When I tried to get help from a lifeguard, I was told that there was nothing to be done and that if I'd been slapped, I'd probably done something to bring it on. The only person who stood up for me was the bitch's 3rd friend, who read her the riot act about not smacking little kids. Let me tell you, this memory had me alternating between shame, grief and blind rage. If I were ever to see that bitch again (and I'm sure I won't), I think I'd be hard-pressed not to rip her face off. I'd settle for tearing into her verbally, and making her cry.
I recalled having to sprint home after school in 5th grade to avoid getting my ass kicked. Sometimes I didn't make it. On a couple of occasions I had to hide out in the bathroom of the church that was a couple of blocks from my home.
I recalled joining an after-school intramural basketball program and getting punched in the gut by a little bastard named Bradley, because I made a mistake during a dribble-and-pass drill.
I remembered moving to Minnesota after 5th grade and encountering my next tormentor, Chris, who started in on me, unprovoked. There I sat, doing my Math like a good girl, and he lit in to me. One morning during gym class, a few months later, he began attacking me with a hockey stick, covering me with bruises from knee to waist and blackening my eye with the blade of the stick, leaving a scar that remains to this day. That was when something in my brain snapped and I hauled off and bitch-slapped the little fucker across the face, as hard as I could. Then, I got him in deep shit when I went to the nurse for First Aid. Happily, he never screwed with me again.
I remembered being left out of games at recess from grades 1-4, all the moving we did, having a hard time making friends in the new places, not being allowed to sit with anyone at lunch.
Fast forward to high school. My 5th new school in 6 years. Right from the beginning life was hell on earth. Being stuck between two groups of evil fuckers, intent on wiping me out: A group of 6-8 nasty, horrible girls and a group of 8 wretched, awful boys. The girls ensured my isolation by turning potential friends against me and the boys delighted in telling me what a dirty, foul, disgusting, ill-mannered, fat, ugly, worthless whore I was. I think "Frigid whore" was my favorite epithet. So much scope for imagination. I always wondered how a frigid woman could be a whore and vice versa. Hours of entertainment. The two groups were in addition to random, group-less bastards who roved the hallways, looking for hapless innocents. In 9th I was in tears on almost a daily basis. I puked from nerves at least once per week. By 10th grade, I'd stopped puking because migranes had taken the place of nausea but the tears continued. I begged and pleaded school officials for help. I begged to be transferred out of certain classes. I was refused, point-blank, and told that it was my fault for being hyper-sensitive. These events took place a few years before the whole anti-bullying crusade caught fire. If it were going on today, I'd sue the holy shit out of those little fuckers and the school and the school district and wouldn't think twice about it. Back then, I had to take it.
Shall we add a domineering, bullying older brother to the mix? Someone who couldn't shut the hell up if you nailed his lips together? Someone who will do anything (and I mean anything) to win, whether it's an argument or a game of Scrabble? Someone who will threaten bodily harm if he doesn't get his way? Yes, let's.
It's a miracle that:
1. I'm not an alcoholic.
2. I've never touched a drug.
3. I've never self-harmed.
4. I've never snapped since that incident with Chris in 6th grade.
5. I've never run away.
6. I never once thought of creating chaos at my schools.
7. I've never need to be institutionalized.
8. I still respect those in authority.
That's not to say all this shit hasn't made a dent in my head, because it has. My self-esteem is rock bottom, I'm enormous because I eat emotionally (snarfing down super-sized fries isn't illegal; hiding in your tormentors' bushes and assailing them is). I'm not at all happy and I feel paralyzed by fear, guilt and shame. With the Shrink Yourself thing, I'm learning to deal with the aftermath and it's not at all pretty. This brings me to my next point...
A few weeks ago, a long-time friend told me that she was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. When I look back on our relationship, I can see that she had it as a kid, and the diagnosis explains A LOT about why she acted the way she did. I feel bad for her but I'm also royally pissed off (I've been reading up on this disorder and all the shrinks say that anger is par for the course) at her. For years, I thought that she ignored me, blew me off for others, demonized me, clung to me, ragged on me, mouthed off to me, because I'd done something wrong. I thought that I was a bitch, demanding, horrible, weird, that there was something wrong with me. I have another friend who has had some mental issues and his treatment of me was similar. Again, I thought it was all my fault, when it was really their issues doing the talking. I'm angry that I spent so many years blaming myself and I'm even angrier that now these two people expect me to be patient with them and supportive and loyal, especially since the one with BPD sometimes uses her condition as an excuse to shoot off her mouth and be a snot. Everything I'm reading says that no matter what, you've got to set boundaries with these people. So, that's what I've been doing. Asserting myself. It hasn't always been easy. In fact, at times it's been scary, because I don't like it when people are mad at me or disapprove of me. I've stuck to my guns, though, and I haven't regretted it for a second. We shall see how things develop, Shrink Yourself-wise and friendship-wise, in the coming months.
Now for the Playing the Waiting Game part: Yes, more bullshit about that damn CG and about the car. Luckily, the car goes in on Tuesday. I'm praying that the place I'm taking it to will do the job well and not charge me a heart-stopping amount of money.
As for CG, I know that he's spending the summer working for his Dad in another state. I'm praying that he's not going to make that his permanent residence. I figure I should know in about a month or two (I'm keeping my ears open). I feel like where he's concerned, I've got to strike while the iron is hot, get my foot in the door, etc. I feel like I'm on borrowed time with him and I've got to make a move or he'll leave the area (it's complicated). Yet, I also catch myself kind of hoping he'll stay away so that I'll have no choice but to stop mooning over him and focus on making a fabulous life for myself. One good thing is that my attitude is changing a bit. Up until recently my attitude was that I'd follow him to the ends of the earth. These days, my attitude is, "Well, if he's sweet, I'll let him come with me as I pursue my interests. If he's really sweet, I'll let him actually ride in the car with me, rather than stuff him in the trunk." This is progress.
I think...
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