(first, before you go any farther, please send me distracting, crazy things. I’m about to have surgery. In a few hours. And all of the jazzy details you probably don’t really want to know about THAT is here).
I have no idea if I’m supposed to like, share things from therapy…but what the hell? I’m dousing myself in sesame seed oil after I shower every day to try to give my nervous system an outlet or a release…something…I feel like I smell like a bagel…but really, I have no idea. It’s homeopathic, hippie type stuff that doesn’t require a prescription and is supposed to make you feel more relaxed or happy or whatever.
Point is, I’m willing to DO just about anything to get to a point where I’m in a homeostasis *zone* more than I’m not.
So, the punching bag theory. It goes something like this: I am let down by people all the time. Maybe I just “hang” with the wrong people but more often than not if I ask for something to be done, I have to constantly follow up on it or ask if it’s even been started or I have to make sure they don’t forget…or, typically, I wind up doing it myself. And “they” can be anyone from work people to friend people to family people. I can’t depend on anyone. Well, I can TRY to depend on people but people just haven’t been reliable. Ever. And I’m using people as a whole conglomerate of individuals.
I’ve been let down more times than I’ve been surprised or relieved to find that “the task” was actually done without me having to worry about it.
And every time that happens, it feels like I’m delivered a massive blow to the gut. Like I’m a punching bag for other people to wail their “oh, my bad” or “yah. oops?” or “I guess it slipped my mind” or “I don’t have time” or “it wasn’t important” on.
And instead of standing up for myself…for the punching bag…I continue to let people let me down (if that makes any sense). It’s like I protect the punching bag in a demented sort of way, by taking it to bed with me and lugging it around and dragging it along on runs…when it really just wants a break from the barrage.
I just want a break from the barrage.
I’m supposed to define this punching bag, who is really a piece of me, sheltering the OTHER part of me that wants to scream at people and be all, “I’m done. Do it yourself.” Or “Thanks. For letting me down. Again.”
And I’m not entirely sure how to define it. The punching bag. I mean, truly, it’s a big, fat wimp. It just stands there and tries to be all strong and “whatever” when in reality, it isn’t all bravado and strength. It’s really beaten up and exhausted.
It’s like I’m afraid to tell people no, so I put up the punching bag to protect the more intimate, fragile parts of who I am. The punching bag protects me – the real me – from getting really hurt. It protects my core. It protects what is important to me. It shadows me. It makes me insignificant. It makes me look like I can take on the world, day in and day out, without harm. Without emotion. Without anything except a hard, worn exterior that has carried me through so many battles and took those super heavy blows that would knock a person to their knees.
I do all of this – I use up all of this energy – just so I don’t say no. Just so I don’t cause conflict. Just so I keep things peaceful and avoid an argument.
And it seems asinine. When I write it out like this, it sounds SO, SO stupid. Why is it so hard for me to just say NO? I’ve done it for so long, it’s like I don’t know how to handle a difficult situation any other way.
I can feel the *other* me, wanting to come out, wanting to say no, wanting to be in front of the punching bag, wanting to only bring out that damn bag for really big, life altering altercations instead of for every single one – big or small or inconsequential.
But I’m still trapped behind it, what with its big “HIT ME. I CAN TAKE IT” sign on its chest.
If anyone is a Grey’s Anatomy fan – and if you aren’t, I totally get it. Tim and I weren’t until like, 6 months ago, and now we’ve bought seasons 1 – 5 and we’re almost through with season 5…so I think we’re hooked, now – anyway, I’m not the bubbly, happy go-lucky person. And I don’t think I ever will be.
I’m dark and stormy.
It’s where I live. In the clouds.
Not floating gaily with the butterflies.
Thanks so much for stopping by BOUCHED today! I love the design of your site – it’s fantastic. Also, best of luck with the surgery. Sending good vibes your way, because that’s what the hippies have taught us.
Imagine opening your glove box in the car to find a kama sutra starring only gnomes for every position. My gift to you on this day of surgery. You’re welcome.
I am the same exact way. How universal alignment phenomena is it that for the first time ever this past Thursday, I spoke up for myself and made it known that I was pissed that I was doing all of the leg work on something that should be none of my responsibility. I did it. I told Husfriend that I thought it was utter bullshit that I was making sure every single thing was getting done for Friday and Saturday and he was just going to show up. Not. Cool. Then he took the reigns. Cue anxiety onset. The entire next 48 hours, I just waited for the disaster, the inevitable train wreck. Surprisingly, and also for the first time ever, it didn’t come. Every basis was covered. There was nothing to worry about or double, triple, quadruple check on being properly arranged. It was nice.
Speak up…start with me. I’ll gladly be your guinea pig punching bag.
A. – Love the new ‘do.
B. – Learn to say no. Start small and get comfortable saying it even though it will be uncomfortable at first.
Wow that is a lot to get out in therapy if you ask me. At least you can recognize it and work forward from there. I tend to have that problem at times also. I want to be helpful and I over do it. I’ve gotten much better. You can’t be afraid to hurt someones feelings because in the end if they are a good person they won’t mind.
Love the hair by the way!
try EMDR therapy – really helps
When I was in high school, my anatomy teacher said the most important word we will ever learn is homeostasis. And to this day, I still agree. Everything and everyone is trying to reach this equilibrium that makes us happy, but it’s hard to find that when everyone else has a different idea of what it is. We don’t live in a vacuum. I’ve been finding that out the hard way lately.
people disappoint you and you just stand there and take it on the chin. it’s like they are telling you, “your things are not as important to me as my own things and that is why i don’t feel bad that your things were not taken care of.” the only reason i can see you would allow this to happen is if YOU believed that too. if YOU believe that your things are not as important as other people’s things and thus, when your things are forgotten about, it just reinforces this whole cycle of shitty self-esteem you’re in.
why do you think so poorly of yourself?
being disappointed on a semi-regular basis is not acceptable. it is not acceptable to hear “whoops.. my bad.” from those who are supposed to care about you. would you do that to someone you cared about?
hugs n kisses (in a super-weird, ‘internet creeper’ sort of way
)
Girl I don’t have anything to send you to distract you from stuff. I can tell you that I am also mole-y. Being Polish means I am covered in moles AND I’m hairy like a motherfucker. HAWT I know. I have had to get moles and stuff removed all the time. Stuff, you ask? Keloid lesions on my head that usually only show up on old people. Fun! We totally should compare notes sometime. Because I’ve got a lot of stuff!
Also? I am constantly let down by people. I don’t know if I have high expectations of how people should behave or what but the majority of everyone I meet seems to do something putting them in the shithead category. I don’t get it.
Jena: I’m happy to report that I survived. Go me.
It’s a good thing, survival. I ,for one, am happy that you did, and that you are not in much pain, there’s always pain. Lumps, try lumps, just under the skin. large, sometimes blue. My daughter says ” Dad those are gross” They also have to be cut out, and sewn up. They are the devil. They just show up, in the damndest spots, Let your imagination run wild…
I miss it when you don’t write, I look every nite, a stalker you call me. I am harmless. sending you good vibes, learned from all my old dead hippie friends of long ago….waitin on my turn…. Heal quick young one.
Papa Guy: I think stalkers like you is a big reason why I keep writing. For comments like that. Also: here’s to blue lumps and hairy moles!