Let’s voice our shame for a second
One of my deepest fears is
I’m not smart enough.
This derives from many things but let’s say intelligence was worshipped in my house growing up.
My grades mattered so much that we actually got financially rewarded for high marks.
Each A on my report card granted me $5 or $10.
And each B or below granted me shame.
What happened here?
Why aren’t you doing enough?
Your sister got an A, why couldn’t you?
So here I am. 28 and still afraid I may be dumb.
Still afraid you’ll think I’m incapable
So of course I get defensive if you talk to me like I don’t know something.
My smugness and ego you see
is really not me
but a scared little girl hiding behind acting supreme.
I wish I had kept my old instagram. I wish I hadn’t started over due to insecurity. I would delete posts or delete my accounts when I started dating someone new. I didn’t want them to visit my past. I didn’t want them to compare our present to my past. I wanted a clean slate. But now I look at people’s instagrams who have nothing deleted and I feel envious of them. I envy their confidence in their past decisions, something which took me a long time to learn. I now love when I see posts of people’s ex partner’s still on their page even though they’re married to someone else. To me, it shows honesty. Something I wish I knew more about back then.
So I’ve been called a sadist.
But I’d like to describe it more as
I like to believe I have the upper hand.
But what this person doesn’t know
Is this is my wall talking.
He doesn’t know I’m full of shit
He doesn’t see me crumble
Or cry with joy from being loved for three years by the most forgiving man I’ve ever met.
He doesn’t know me.
He tried to pull that perceptive card,
But I’ve met his like before.
Confident on the outside
Insecure on the inside.
Like all of us.
So don’t tell me, you can read me.
Because I know you’re no fly on the wall.
You’re just like every other psychology cock sucker thinking you’re the next Freud.
So bye boy.
I would say, definitely my new job. Honestly, it feels good to be able to breathe again. To be even more honest, I cried when I found out. Steph, my recruiter at appreciating talent, called me and told me the news. I was stunned. I didn’t think they wanted me. She told me they wanted someone else when I first interviewed with them so I wasn’t expecting them to change their mind. And so I started crying. Not on the phone of course! That would be a bit too boundary pushing for me. But after I hung up, I truly started sobbing. I’ve been carrying this stress on me for 3 months now, but maybe 2 months because the first month I was processing it so I wasn’t really stressed then. I was more numb. More in limbo. Losing something tends to have that effect on me.
I actually have a very tricky past of not handling loss well.
Loss of my grandma dying in church, my puppy being rehomed, and now losing my job to a pandemic.
So when I lost my job I did the best I could with the information.
But I still lashed out.
And how I lashed out was I called the cops on my dad and destroyed any kind of connection my family was trying to preserve.
But that’s better than getting almost blacked out drunk and having a threesome with strangers, right?
Because that’s what I did when I “lost” my dog.
And before that, I soberly fucked strangers on tinder for almost a year when I found out God killed my grandma.
Like I said, it’s a tricky past.
So the cop calling. Well my dad is abusive, right. You know this if you have read my past work. And my mom is still married to him so shit gets complicated because all I want to do is save her, but she thinks God will punish her if she leaves. So what the rest of the family has done is ignore it. And dude I ignored it too. For over a decade, I’ve told her divorce him, but she doesn’t listen. So what else can you do? Well one day, after I lost my job, she told me on the phone he called her a Bitch and a horrible mother and she told me she was playing around with the idea of suicide.
So I got scared.
But I had never defended her before so I didn’t know what to do. And what do I do from all the way over here when they are in California?
So I called the cops in their neighbourhood and asked for their advice. I told them the history and the woman cop said, “It’s tricky. You can’t forcibly remove her. She has to want to leave on her own.” So she gave me a number of a safe house in California that protects women.
I called this number. The woman on the phone told me the same thing. She said, “I can go over there and talk to her if she is open to it, but unfortunately if he isn’t beating her, it is really hard to do anything.”
So I decided to email my family and ask them for help. They called me and asked if I believed she was unsafe. I said, “yes” because experience told me she was. They called her. She then downplayed it. She pretended it was fine. Everything is fine.
My dad found out.
I called the cops and begged them to get to the house.
My sister then called me screaming at me that this was all my fault. That I handled it poorly. That it’s not that serious.
My dad then text me saying “you’re disowned.”
And there you have it folks.
My lashing out to the universe.
And how is this related to losing my job?
Well, when I am in pain I will do anything to run from that pain.
Even if that means distracting myself with another pain.
Because if I could distract myself with my dad’s failures, then I wouldn’t have to look at my own.
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