Ok, the hits are still coming. I ask you, gentle readers, how does hearing my story change your perception of me? I really don’t know.
Ok, the hits are still coming. I ask you, gentle readers, how does hearing my story change your perception of me? I really don’t know.
It’s hard but valuable reading. Makes me appreciate your strength all the more, actually. I am curious: when did you know that you wanted kids of your own? I’ve heard that adults who were abused as kids often can’t see the healthy way to raise kids. Obviously you felt you can do this right–and you are 🙂 !
<3
Paula
If anything, I admire you more, and see you as even stronger than I did before. Both in that you are where you are and are doing what you’re doing (and are doing damn well at what you’re doing), and in that you’re *talking* about it.
I admire you so, so much. I did before but I do so even more now.
It makes me feel less alone, in my own fucked-up-ness, as well. I guess I kind of hope that some day I can talk about some of the things I went through; seeing you do it inspires me to work harder on my own issues.
Paula: I was pretty sure I wanted to have kids some day by the time I was 18. By the time I broke up with Tom I knew I wanted to get started *now* and that was at 23. 🙂
Steph: Thanks. It’s scary because the internet tells me to shut up.
Anonymous: I probably know you. I hope you can talk about it too. We all get better if we face our real story.
I don’t really know you very well, so mostly I feel that I’ve gotten to know you better by reading your posts. Or some aspect of you, anyway…
Oh, and I think you are smarter, now. I didn’t think you were not-smart before, I just had very little idea .
I don’t think my perception of you has changed. Reading your story has given me insight not only to you but to the world at large. Reading this reminds me to be ever vigilant with who is around my kids and to listen to their stories and look for the hidden meaning.
I do wonder, what would be the appropriate action to take if I see similiar signals in dc or their friends as they get older? If I suspect something is happening do I go to the teacher? That didn’t work for your friend’s mom. Principal? CPS?
Emily
It’s taken me a while to put together my answer to this. There’s so much to say, and it’s hard to say, and I don’t think I will get all of it.
How has reading your blog changed my perception of you? In no particular order…
I used to wonder why you were so adamant about parenting techniques you read about in books and on the internet. Why you thought it necessary to follow Attachment Parenting (or any other methodology) completely, as opposed to just trusting your instincts about how to be a parent. Now I understand that you have no models of good parenting from your own life, and that you *can’t* trust your instincts because you don’t know which are the okay ones and which are the abusive ones. That was instructive.
I am afraid to say the wrong thing to you. Actually, that was true before I started reading your blog. Back to our vague uncomfortableness around each other. For me, it was because I was afraid that I’d unintentionally say something “wrong” and you’d get angry and yell at me. Now, after reading your story, it’s worse. I’m afraid that I’ll say something wrong and it will accidentally hurt you more than you already are hurting. Now I know that if you yelled, it would probably be because I’ve hurt you somehow.
When I read your blog, I want to hold you, and find some way to dull the jagged edges of your pain. At the same time, I’m terrified to touch you (metaphorically as well as physically). I know you don’t like to be touched.
I don’t want to treat you as fragile and delicate, and I don’t think you want to be treated that way. At the same time, you *seem* so fragile and delicate that I don’t know what to do. Except maybe stay away. I don’t know if that’s the right thing to do either. I’m terrified that just writing this will be hurtful. I wouldn’t do it except that you’ve asked for comments. In public.
I wonder if you resent me for having a simple, pain-free, easy life, comparatively. I feel guilty about that. In some way that I cannot understand or put my finger on, I’ve always felt that you and I are similar. I wonder if reading your blog is like looking into a broken mirror. Am I what you would be if you’d had a loving family and a normal childhood? Are you what I would be in different circumstances?
And I hate that I’ve used the word “broken” because I don’t think you are that finality. But oh, there are so many cracks. I am awed by you and intimidated by you. I wonder how anyone can go through what you’ve been through and still be fighting to get out of it.
I’ve had a hard morning and you just made me cry in a good way. Thank you.
Yeah, I don’t know what the right answer is either. A lot of the time I feel like an animal caught in a trap. I flail around because I don’t know how not to. And that feels bad. It feels like I am hurting people just by existing because I have all this pain and I don’t know what to do about it. I hate every time I yell at people. I hate that I am that person.
I don’t really want everyone to go away. I want people to help me learn how to be a socialized human being. But I’m not very nice. 🙁 And people get sick of my shit. But I don’t know how to just stop. It feels like people want me to just be a different person, one without all this pain.
You aren’t saying that in your comment. You are being very kind. I know that people have to walk on eggshells around me and I hate it. I hate that I am this person. This is where being suicidal comes up. It hurts so much and there is no way to make it stop hurting enough for anyone to even be able to be my friend. I am really hard to put up with because I overreact and I’m over sensitive and I get really mean.
I wonder a lot about how I would be without all this pain. I look at Shanna and wonder. I look at you and wonder. I do feel like you and I are very similar. Are you aware of how long Noah compared every woman he met to you? You were the one he wanted and you didn’t want him. So everyone he met was told in great detail all the ways they were similar or different from you. It was really hard to not hate you. At this point I’ve gotten well past that, but it was hard. You aren’t even the person Noah said you were, but it was hard finding that out.
It has been hard getting to know you because we are similar, but you aren’t broken and fucked up. And I don’t resent *you* but I resent that I have had the life I have had. Why in the hell did this all have to happen to me? I feel like I would give just about anything for relief from this pain.
Thank you for commenting. Thank you for reading. I appreciate it more than I can adequately express in a comment here. You are trying to be my friend even though I am bitchy and I lash out and I’m hard to be around. Thank you.
I would love for you to be without all of the pain you carry. I’m sure many people want that for you. But does that mean being a different person? Does the pain define who you are?
The funny thing is, I don’t think you’ve actually ever yelled at me. I don’t think you’ve ever been anything but decent and nice to me. I don’t know what’s gone on in your head, if there have been times you really wanted to yell but held back. That’s possible. Maybe I actually just need a good yelling at so I can go “OK, that’s what that’s like, it’s not so bad.” and get over it. Or maybe we’re ok without… 🙂
At this point, I’m thinking I should just get over that fear, and just deal with it if/when it comes. In some ways, this blog is teaching me that you’re *not* fragile. Jagged, maybe. But the core of you is strong.
As for Noah- smart as he is, he can be pretty stupid sometimes. I did know he compared other women to me, though I haven’t thought about it in a while. He did that even before we dated, which weirded me out a little when we he told me while we were dating. I don’t know how long it continued after, but I didn’t realize he *told* everyone how they compared to me in his head. Yeah, a little stupid sometimes.
At some point in my life, I may have been who Noah told you I was. I was 23 when we dated and I wasn’t yet done becoming me. But he had that snapshot of who I was then, and he kept it in his head. While I don’t know what he said about me, I’m sure him carrying the image for so long made me seem a lot more perfect than I ever actually was. So yes, who I am now, the person you know, is very different from how he must have described me to you. Thank you for being willing to see past it.