When I was a kid my mother was fond of telling me: “We keep our dirty laundry in the closet” meaning that we do not discuss the horrible things that happen behind closed doors. I internalized this message and didn’t tell anyone I was abused for years. When I was 15 and had a series of breakdowns I came to the conclusion that I could not live by her directive. Instead I decided that I would have no secrets. I would do absolutely nothing I was ashamed to talk about generally. And if I ever did find I had something I was ashamed of I would talk about it as publicly as possible because then there would be nothing that could be held over my head. I can never have someone emotionally blackmail me with something I have done. I have accepted a small change in this policy in the past couple of years as I have slightly gone into the closet for my job. This has been incredibly emotionally stressful for me and paved the road for me to start keeping other things private. I recently had to look at myself and my life and what I am doing and I realized that I have a dirty little secret. I have something I am deeply ashamed of and that I am hiding from people. When your behavior is at odds with how you claim your behavior is that means that either your opinion of yourself/your ethics is out of date or you need to change your behavior. Given that I am still proud of my basic code of ethics that means that I need to undertake the very difficult and painful task of living up to it.

So here I am. This is my confession. This journal entry is not really filtered for a variety of reasons. I need to say these things about myself in a basically public way because that is how I operate when it comes to things that are bad. I cannot hide them. I debated with Noah long and hard the merits of doing this in a public way and essentially this is something that I need for me. So a lot of people who read this journal are not really used to my harsh self-analyzing posts so this one may be really hard for you. I invite you to skip it if you feel that the messy inner workings of my mind are things that do not need to be part of your life. And given the nature of gossip, if anyone chooses to break the basic confidentiality implied by my journal please at least have the respect for me to tell me that you are sharing this entry with other people. I feel I deserve that.

So here we go–a rather unhappy and dark picture of me.

When I feel anxious about something it traditionally has manifested as my stomach hurting. Nominally, the reason I was absent so often from school growing up was because I was ill–specifically my stomach hurt so badly I could barely walk. My stomach has been hurting for weeks. I had to look at this continual stomach upset as a sign that I was falling down on something fundamental. It is time for spring cleaning because man that closet needs to be opened.

I am painfully aware that the quickest way someone can talk me into accepting a boundary violation is to imply or sometimes even state flat out that I am a bitch. I am terrified of being a bitch. In my little view of the world telling me that I am a bitch means that I am a hateful person who willfully hurts those who love me. I would give anything to not be that person. I know that I have a funny push/pull relationship with reclaimed words–I certainly have no problem with slut and even very little issue with whore. Yet bitch is very different to me. I do at times refer to myself as being a bitch after saying something catty. What is not obvious is the overwhelming wave of shame that comes with the self-labeling. When I say that I am a bitch I am basically saying, “I know I am a malicious person.” I’m not exactly happy or comfortable with that self-realization. There is so much going on with it. I would like to be able to be a very strong person without ever putting others in a place where they are lessened, but I don’t know how to do it yet. I don’t mean at all that I think I should never criticize–I mean that I would like to be capable of making assessments and then just acknowledging that the person/situation is not something or someone I want in my life. So far I have not mastered this, though I struggle in that direction. This boils down to: if I refer to someone as a bitch in a serious way that is pretty much the most serious negative assessment of character I can make. I make an effort to recognize that not everyone uses the word the same way though( platinum rule) and I will say in a cheerful catty way that people I love are bitches when really I mean that they are being snarky or catty. I need to work on this. For someone to call me a bitch–especially repeatedly–is a significant put down that I don’t really get over. I need to reflect that belief in my own actions better.

Boundaries are a funny thing. Recently I was in a situation where the concept of boundaries was treated as if it only matters in the realm of sex. This spurred some really awful thought processes for me as I started to think about how appalled I was at the very idea. NO!! If anything sexual boundaries are a very small part of how boundaries should exist in my life. (I can’t really make this a more general statement that applies to all people though I would like to; I don’t have that right.) I think this has been a lot of the problem all along. I was trained to accept just about anything that was done to me no matter where in my life it happened. Eventually I found people who were willing to tell me that at least as far as sex goes, I have a right to boundaries. And either the belief that I can have boundaries was never generalized further or I was incapable of hearing it. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter as I am profoundly bad when it comes to believing I have the right to assert boundaries outside of sex. This is probably why I have made relating sexually my main source of interactions through out my life. It is the only time I am allowed to say no and boy do I say it often. I can tell people they can’t touch me at all–as long as it is a sexually charged environment. When a student crossed the line with touching me I punched her because I totally freaked out. I can’t handle setting those kinds of boundaries when/if there is no sex involved. Mostly as a result of not feeling able to assert a lot of boundaries I feel overwhelmingly hurt by small boundary interactions. I panic and freak out and the closest I can come to asserting my necessary boundaries is to immediately lash out and completely over react. This is one of my most broken defense mechanisms.

I am a trusting person. It is a very odd thing for me to know about myself–but I am. I want to love and trust people and so I do, and I do so far too easily. I will intensely bond with someone and then put up with inappropriate boundary violations because it is more important to me to please my friend than for me to feel ok about myself. I let people into my life who are horribly manipulative and I can’t seem to walk away from them. The funny thing is: I can narrate exactly what they are doing and why, but I can’t stop reacting. Rather pathetic, really. Another place I fall down terribly is it is important to me that I respect my friends and right now I am referring to some people as friends even though I do not have a basic level of respect for them. I know that I am an incredibly harsh judge of character–but that part of me is unlikely to change. What I can change is my lack of respect for myself. If I truly believe that I do not respect someone I need to stop the bullshit social politeness and let that person go. I am not saying be rude–just stop engaging and letting the person have opportunities to hurt me when I trust them foolishly.

But all of this is just part of the problem and contributes to the eventual real problem by building up my own issues with myself. I have written before about my self-loathing and general feeling of no self-worth. Lately these feelings have been seriously triggered. I don’t believe that I deserve Noah. I don’t deserve his unconditional love. When he showers his love and affection on me it alternates between being a balm to the wounds in my soul and being a sharp stab of reminding me of the person I am not. I am not the sweet and kind person he deserves–I am a bitch and someone who cannot be complete on my own. And, oh it sounds cheesy, but in the pits of my despair I become angry. I am angry at everyone who ever hurt me and turned me into the warped monster I am now. I am angry with myself that I am so pathetic and weak that I let myself be hurt and that I continue to fail at living up to my ideals. In my perhaps foolish frantic desire to stop one cycle of abuse–self-mutilation–my fucked up psyche is walking a different path. I have been lashing out at Noah. In a perverse way, if it weren’t for him being so wonderful I wouldn’t hurt this way. The harder he pushes me to accept his love the harder I resist. This came to a head a couple of weeks ago.

I saw something in me I never want to see again. I saw how an abuse victim becomes an abuser. I have seen every model of how to shut him out emotionally so he will feel a complete withdrawal of love. I know exactly how to find the words that will drive him to the brink of violence. I know how to warp and manipulate our interactions so that love is mixed with hurt and bitterness and resentment.

I have become the abuser.

This is the dirty little secret I hide deep in my soul. But just like I will not let being a bitch define me–I cannot let this be who I am. I cannot solve a problem if I do not know it exists. I have always had flashes of irrational anger, but I have never allowed myself to recognize or name what it was. I cannot allow this to define me.

I am just woo woo enough to believe in fate and in my own powers to create myself. I feel somewhat stupid for believing this but, I believe that I am getting this tattoo right now for me. I have always been obsesssed with forgiveness. She is reaching out for it. But before I can forgive anyone else, before I can become who I want and need to be, I need to forgive me. I have hurt people I love, sometimes very badly. But for some reason God has still chosen to gift me with people who love me despite the monsters in my soul. I am not beyond redemption. I have sinned grievously against the universe. I have responded to love with hate because I was reflecting my own self-hatred. In order to deserve this love I have to forgive myself and that will be a harder won forgiveness than any other.

I am terrified of this journey, but I know I have help and love and support. This may well be the hardest thing I have ever done. But you know what? I have yet to let difficulty stop me from doing what I want.