Why? Why am I so afraid?
Why do I come here fearing to tell a truth?
Who am I? Who have I been all my life?
I’ve tried to feel safe all my life, constantly running from something. Some memory (or belief) has been why life turned into nothing more than seeking safety every single day. I’ve ran in work. I’ve ran here. Ran in counselor’s and therapist’s offices. Ran in 12-step rooms. Ran from women.
I couldn’t put “ran from men” since I still turn to them, every day. But women…means my mom. I’m running from her.
I’ve been here almost daily wondering what I’m hiding from. I slept in good, but did not want to get up to face the world. I see in my mind I’m up against this dark wall. It’s cold. Smooth. Glassy. And I stand in the dark, afraid of being harshly exposed, or even being noticed.
I imagine going out, even shopping, and I see an older man and relax. Even imagining women (older, of course) saddens me. I expect judgement and rejection. Why? Mom was like that all the time. Every single day. Non-stop. I believed what she told me. And something “wrong” was always found.
I had no right to be loved.
I wasn’t loveable.
I wasn’t worth it.
She didn’t love herself.
So, I wasn’t loveable either.
Fault and blame were found constantly.
And I hid this. I hid that my mom wouldn’t share love with anyone. Just hate. Self-hate. I was ashamed of her. Fearful people would find out this truth. I was deathly afraid of anyone ever knowing our truth. That’s why school was a haven for me. I liked school since people were more loving there. Some people cared. I never told them my truth, but people read me and were kind to me.
I actually noticed this at work Friday, just 2 days ago. A mechanic tried calling me out jokingly for something I’d done, and the main secretary was with him. He actually stopped himself mid-sentence, saying “I’m not mad at (my name). He’s a good guy”. The secretary said the same thing right after, and I noticed. I think they saw a man who looked whooped already (facing some recon), so both pulled back their jabs and turned to kindness. Just like back in school.
I’ve gotten that most of my life. I just saw it happening Friday.
I’m feeling kind of soft now. I’ve cried a couple of times while writing. I feel like I could/should keep on writing, but I’m going to take a break.