Thursday, October 13, 2011
Emotional Abuse Again and Again
Marianne sent Nando's his absolutely favorite merchandise - anything soccer. Nando has a beautiful grin and he's wildly popular everywhere he goes because he's nice. That's it. He's nice. His classmates and other peer group kids think he's the coolest thing to ever kick a ball. He's always smiling, in stark contrast to others here who only sneer and snarl.
"He's your favorite," irrational ones will scream, "You don't correct him!" They'll holler unprovoked by anything.
He didn't do anything that needed correcting. He's nice.
His being nice only irritates mean ones.
At the risk of sounding melodramatic, I'm gonna state that much of my once Sally Sunshine soul has been systematically murdered over the years.
When one gives and gives, when one self-sacrifices every single day, it apparently only frustrates the takers, and the lashing out has been tremendously brutal, something I never expected, and am completely unprepared to continuously endure, or to handle.
It really affected my dad. He grieved at seeing the way I was treated. I remember him being so upset one afternoon that he accidentally blurted out the S word. This man, who was once a preacher, was scrubbing a bathroom and hollered in his immense frustration, "I can't believe Cindy has to put up with this much SH*T!"
The ensuing shocked silence was absolutely deafening. Everyone looked at me to put the old man in time-out or something, but I busted out laughing, wanting to reply, "Well, no sh*t, Dad," but I didn't.
The constant and unrelenting negativity and complaints - no matter what I serve for dinner, no matter what I do - for some folks to ever allow themselves to be halfway contented - I'm not looking for happiness nor gratitude, but a minuscule second of reflection over their simple blessings might be nice.
But I get it. I understand the difficulties in acknowledging to oneself about what a stranger has done, that it might be more than a traumatized soul can handle.
The Adoption Counselor spoke of now not fearing being stabbed in her sleep, what a joy that now is for her, and I agree profusely.
This vegetarian who's never had a decent knife available for chopping all the vegetables, simply out of fear that it'd be used on me or someone else in a rage fit, might one day want to restock her kitchen. I eat at home 99.99% of the time, it's an extremely rare restaurant meal for me, so to have a couple of proper utensils might be nice.
That's no way to live.
Now that most of my dangerous ones are not here anymore, I, too, am starting to peek out from under my shell, sniff the air a bit cautiously, and think about moving on.
Self-care and self-preservation are two facets worth exploring.
We had a slight nut up at dinner last night, when I verbally corrected the one who screamed, "Faggot!" at another one. The screamer had a crazy fit over having his behavior corrected because he's basically unteachable. That may sound harsh but I've fought this battle for a very long time, he wants to be a 'victim,' it is everyone else's fault that he acts up...in his own mind. He is incredibly unreasonable.
He blames his teachers constantly, his siblings blame police officers, judges or court appointed attorneys.
He towered threateningly over Nando, the one he'd yelled at for nothing, and I had to get between them.
"You always take his side," the mean one yelled. Yeah, that's true. I'm going to protect the one who did not start this episode. I was standing right there, I had the facts, it'd flared up three feet away from me. "Dude, YOU'RE the wrong one," I stood my ground.
He stormed off yelling, "I hate this freaking stupid idiotic effing family!"
Really? Because I stood up for the innocent one? OK, then, I suck.
It is a stubbornly and genetically aggressive behavior that has not responded at all to therapy. In today's arrest report, as always, there's folks in their 40s, 50s, and 60s still getting arrested, still not having learned about honesty, not hitting others, and respecting authority. If behavior redirection worked with everyone, then shouldn't our inmate population decline?
I was very furious last night at this kid yelling at a younger one who'd not done anything in the first place. But for my own self-preservation, my own sanity, plus that of the younger one, we both just walked off, knowing it wouldn't do a lick of good to discuss this with the one who is so downright hateful. BTDT, eventually I learn.
The older one is an emotional bully. Period. Walking off is the only remedy. Disengaging. Engaging only escalates the conflict in one who likes to scream and melt down. Explaining anything in a calm voice is always rebuffed, as they'll just rudely talk over my voice and scream. In their mind, I'm always wrong. I'm stupid. All those college degrees hanging upstairs must've come out of a cereal box. Must've been dozing through my abnormal psychology class.
OK, tell me how that works out for you as an adult.
Better yet, don't tell me, don't even call me up to whine about law enforcement picking on you.
As they grow up, chronologically speaking at least, I've set boundaries. Do not drop in to visit me, you must call first to see if I'm available, as dropping in unannounced only leads to thievery. Heck they'll steal from me when I'm home, how much so if the house is uninhabited?
Truthfully I have very little interest in much communication at all, as it's only designed to unreasonably berate me for all I've done for them, which was usually all wrong, I didn't even pick their clothes up right - off the floor to wash for them. If you can't say something nice to me, then just stay away.
I don't miss those who've emotionally abused me.
I'm moving on, trying to regain my own emotional strength that used to be formidable.
The purpose of having boundaries is to protect and take care of ourselves. We need to be able to tell other people when they are acting in ways that are not acceptable to us. A first step is starting to know that we have a right to protect and defend ourselves emotionally. That we have not only the right, but the duty to take responsibility for how we allow others to treat us.
Here's your notice mean-mouthed people. Just leave me alone. I absolutely can't take it anymore. You win. Be as bad as you want out in the cold, cruel world.
It's a choice. I'm still praying for good choices to be made.