So…when I am scheduling the blog for the week I often use the duplicate blog option to get the right settings for each. I ended up deleting last week’s Thursday post. It was the one about my new drawing tablet. I didn’t delete it on purpose. Technical difficulties y’all.
This is the piece that caused me all the emotional drama earlier. I was trying to show a caterpillar with a transformation of a butterfly attached. The feedback is that it looks like the butterfly is pooping. Yes. yes, it does. And now that will forever be what the transformation is. SHIT. Thanks.
However I made myself attempt another piece because I was honestly ready to delete the piece, the program and all. I needed to make myself work past the hurt and the disgust with what I had created to try to figure out creation again.
Recently, I had someone give me unsolicited feedback. Now I am over that…but the reaction to my emotions afterwards…I have spent some time on. I was HURT…Like ready to delete the art program off of my computer hurt. I worked through that, because you know that is my responsibility – to deal with the emotions and the reasons why I feel them. I did not take it out on the person other than to tell them that they hurt me and that I did not appreciate the unsolicited feedback. That night I recorded a video rant on tiktok, Not naming or pointing any fingers to anyone. Not even being angry. I left it in my drafts folder overnight. Unsure if I would post it. Because the initial reaction to my hurt was her doing the OK like I had no business being hurt. She had immediately said sorry in a hey now I need to make you shut up kind of way. and then when I tried to explain my hurt she kept saying Ok…
Now I realize that I am nowhere near perfect. My voice has been stolen too often, So I guard it, I guard my ability to control my ability to express my self. No one can take those things from me. I have very distinct boundaries because of this. Well the next day I had worked through most of the hurt. I was able to see it for what it was and not do something that I felt would be foolish. I watched the video I had made and decided it was not me doing nothing but lashing out in hurt. I decided that it was a fair video and good content. Something that I often have issues posting, everywhere. So I posted it. The person decides that means I am still mad and starts sending me WTF messages. I told her I was never mad, only hurt. She blows that off as it is the same thing for me.
I am now questioning myself and everyone I know and love to be sure that my anger and my hurt are not manifesting the same way. They are not, but as this person mostly deals with me via social media she would not know the difference. I consider this person my best friend…some days my only friend. So I am devastated that she really doesn’t know me. I end up with the last things she says in the conversation bouncing around in my head all damn night. I am not going to put the exact things in here…but it is the same thing that always comes up when I enforce a boundary. ‘Well I did not realize that you expected that of me!’ Why would a boundary not apply to you? Because you are my closest friend? It seems that would mean I would not have to enforce the boundary because as my closest friend you would understand the damn reason for it.
I recently heard that the boundaries someone has a problem with are the limits to their respects for you. Now I wonder if I am mourning a friendship. I am wondering if I even had a friend, or was there only to make her feel better. I hate that. I love her. Still. That is the worst of this. I don’t halfway give my heart to anyone. I still love everyone I ever have…even if I can’t stand who they have become.
*Edit to note I don’t yet know if I am mourning our friendship. Time is the only answer for that. I sent my thoughts via email and am awaiting a reply.
I was going to do the usual poetry update today…but my kitchen sink busted last night…well a piece of it did. We have a hose attachment that allows us directly to use water (my dishwasher is a portable) and the hose busted. It is not going to be an expensive fix. Just was a panic at 2 in the morning because of the flooded kitchen. It got me thinking, much as most incidents like that do.
My daughter was the one who had found the flooded kitchen, and bless her she immediately went to work cleaning up the mess. She sent me messages to wake me up. She was comfortable enough to curse at me for not answering the phone (I was actually in a deep sleep for a change). I wonder if I would have ever been so with my mom.
We had a conversation while we were stuck at Walmart about what our favorite dinosaur was (hers is a Saurolophus, mine has always been a triceratops) and I adore the little things that I can get to share with her. (The dinosaur conversation was initiated due to a figit toy she had in her purse. A club tailed dino filled with sand that can be manipulated various ways.)
I don’t remember ever being comfortable enough talking to my mom about anything. My doctor finds my mom and I to be a funny topic. I told her (doctor) that My mom still is blaming me for a virus I had as a teenager. I had infantigo when I was around 11 or 12. Mom is still convinced that I caused it by picking at it. And even though I am in my late 40’s brought it up as I was going to cause myself to get it again. The doctor thinks it’s funny. It is a bit of the epiphany for me.
I always expect my daughter to be amazing. Even if she has a bad day, she is going to be amazing. Nothing can change my mind on that. My mom expects the worst about me. She always has, always will… and I have to stop letting her voice color my self view I have spent 47 years trying to be good enough for a woman who is never going to see me as adequate. Time to change my aim.
I last saw the man who has lived in my nightmares at around 9 or 10 years old. Still, he has made my life miserable not because he was actively in it, but because of what he did and the fact that when I finally got the courage to tell anyone… well they did not believe me. He said that they would not. So if he was right about that, what about the other things that he said? Was it all really my fault?
Biden just signed a Bill…I am so happy for it…it takes away the limit for how long you have to take your abuser to court. How long you have to get the world to see them for the piece of shit that they are… for some people that is a miracle.
For some of us…there is no justice.
I am not saying that just because he is dead. My abuser committed suicide just a few years ago…Don’t expect me to mourn him.
No, I am saying that because I can’t go back and get my family to see the truth. I will never be able to look at my self and think I am not deserving of the way that I was treated… why? Because I obviously missed something. Something that he saw.
My mom doesn’t understand. She asked me if she ever actually said that she didn’t believe me… no not in those words. She said that I must have been remembering it wrong. That I didn’t have the dates exactly right. Okay…I was supposed to handle the memories better. I see. I was supposed to get over it… because that is what you do right?
No, Justice doesn’t always come. But the Bill that Biden signed is a huge step in the right direction.
Some days it is harder than others to feel like I have a voice.
A lot of the reason I do the publishing thing is because I have had my voice stolen too often. I want to help others find their voice. Sounds kinda cheesy I realize…but it is the truth. I strive to make absolutely sure that when I edit I do so in a way that never changes the author’s voice…while still addressing readability and grammar. I realize that might not be important to some…but to me that voice is often what makes the story.
I know others feel like they are a burden, like I do. For me though it is harder to fight that because I spent much of my childhood not being heard. I have spent a good bit of my adult life the same way.
Let me explain.
Have you ever walked into a doctor’s office and told them your symptoms only to have them yell at you for not taking medicine for a disease you did not yet know you had? or have you gone in and said I am having trouble and get diagnosed with something with no test or diagnostic process simply because the doctor was overworked and you were in his office like the hundreds before you that day? Oh, and then there were the doctors who were quick to blame all of my issues on my size. Yeah. I have had really bad luck with doctors.
Perhaps that is why I avoid going until I have no choice.
Still it is not just doctors that it feels like I am ignored by. Though I understand that I am not the only person in anyone’s life…there are days when I will speak and get the response of *Sigh* What? – Which makes me want to pull away. Because that response only hurts. I understand if you are busy. Say…Hey I am busy, can I get back to you? And I will get it. But to say it like that…
It silences me. And makes my inner voice into a scream.
I feel like eventually I will never speak again, but that voice…the one inside that never shuts up…the one that says how horrible I am and that no one likes me…That will be so loud that everyone outside will hear it.
Then who will I be?
So, today….I am going to be quiet, because that voice is too loud and my voice is too small. I hope that none of you ever are hushed.
I sometimes feel like Alice… the rabbit hurrying me for fear of being late. Admitted, I expected to be late for today. I was not in the mind space for blogging last night. To tell you the truth I am not quite there yet today. I survived the MRI. Though I was scared to death of it. This week I am going to be late if I post anything. I hate doing that but it has been a crazy week and it is only a Monday. I guarantee that I am not going to be able to do my blogging usual, but hopefully what I do post will be worth reading.
So, hurry hurry and let us see… what exactly the rabbit has in store for you and me.
Pattimouse 