Sometimes people do things to damage their own reality.
And then they ask you to participate in living in *their* reality. The one they have built with their mistakes.
It doesn’t make you unforgiving or hurtful for telling them, “No. I do not want to live there.”
But it is hurtful of them to ASK for you to live there.
Especially when you take special care to try to help them move back into a shared reality.
When you tell them it is forgiven… but they are, stuck in their faux reality, unable to forgive themselves. They are so angry. The anger fills them up to capacity and they begin to serve it up to you. EXPECT you to happily accept that serving and eat it up.
But what they have offered… it is venom. If you accept it you will find yourself catatonicaly lost in *their* reality. You will find yourself apologizing for the wrongs you have done that are a pure fabrication. A history from a reality that you never lived.
Hey. Maybe I’ve been binge watching too much Fringe.
Or maybe… I have been quietly working on removing the venom.
It was both.
A lot of hurtful things are being said. I know I have said some pretty hurtful things in private. I have been my own type of angry these days. So angry that I’ve asked-- What did I do in a past life, that I must deserve this? What did I do to piss God off this much? How can they be this cruel, careless, mean, manipulative… stupid? I am so angry. And hurt. I have been self enclosing most of this anger. There is one person that is catching the brunt of this frustration. It’s not his job. He doesn’t love me. If I keep this up, he may never will.
In truth, I think, even if none of this ever happened… he wouldn’t have loved me anyway. I do not believe he ever will. I don’t know if that is self-inflicted doubt or the truth. I have my own realities to suss out. I’m not inviting anyone into my reality. I wish others would do the same.
The most hurtful thing being said?
I will never make my mother a grandmother.
That lashed out insult, shared in public, keeps swimming in my head.
I am currently waving an “I am never having children” flag. It is a new flag, that does not belong in my hands.
My high school sweetheart and I talked about kids. In a passive, unreal sort of dimension. It was a “someday” hypothesis. Our first daughter would be named Valkyrie. Our first son-- William, for William Gibson. We had our own set of priorities. In the end, our eventual pregnancy was very poorly timed. We were too young. Too far apart. Too unprepared. In an aftermath we spent years trying to make our teenage love Grow Up. It never did. When it was over… we appreciated that there were no casualties.
I had other pregnancies after that. One with a young man that was already struggling to see his first and only daughter with more frequency. I was not one to make things worse for him. One with a man… we had a great chemistry… and he fed that classic line, “It’s not a good time now. We can do this later.” Years later I am told he is married with a family and for a while I resented that quite a bit. Eventually I learned to be happy for him. Because he did have great… lot of things. And I’m glad someone finally figured how to work with that.
I perhaps scared away a Great Love by running my mouth about a commitment timeline that he hadn’t even started to think about. “When we have kids….” is the sort of statement that you should only make when your other is prepared.
And there was the humiliating Jeremiah and his drunken, violent breath in my neck. “I’m going to put a baby in you.”
Oh God. Anything but that.
And that’s when… I started to think. I don’t want children. I can’t trust a person to not screw it up. I can’t trust myself to not screw it up.
I watched as others started to screw it up. It is pretty easy to screw it up.
Screw your kids up.
Place your reality over theirs and make them eat it. Make them live in it.
Sometimes children are forced into living in a reality. And the adults are so drawn up in their world that they forget… it is CHANGEABLE.
Me asking for change is an abomination. It makes me A Total CUNT.
No. I can’t have kids. What if I screw it up? Worse. If I have kids their lives will be in a shared world, shared reality. They will live in a better place. And it will make them a target for the venom that I have been sussing out of my system. My children would be in the vipers path.
That isn’t fair to my Littles. The Littles in my life. The Littles I could have had.
It isn’t fair to me. But I am an adult. Fair is a fragment. The definition is shiftable. It is not fair that I have been made so uncomfortable that I no longer want something I always wanted. But it isn’t a matter of failed justice. It’s my reality to live. I’m not hurting anyone with this reality. And the greatest thing about saying, “I’m never having children.” is that I never have to invite anyone into that reality. Not having children is a single occupancy reality. And eventually, I feel I will settle into it quite well. I have to.
I’m not the kind of girl. No one has an urgency to be with me. Certainly no urgency to have more of something similar around.
For 20 years I have been fed a venom that has me pretty convinced… there is something wrong with me. I don't deserve to be happy. If I am happy it is because I am a heartless cunt that never helped anyone. If I am happy it must be at the cost of someone else. Twenty years of that abuse... and I'm convinced.
Also...In the historic timeline of my lovelife, they have all discovered there is nothing special about me.
I am with someone that finds nothing special about me. On his end our relationship is calm and polite. If it weren’t for my damn bucking about it would be perfectly mundane. Or maybe just perfect. I don’t know.
I can’t stop bucking.
And I should. I’m nothing special.
It is down right Zen.
And it’s safer this way.
And then they ask you to participate in living in *their* reality. The one they have built with their mistakes.
It doesn’t make you unforgiving or hurtful for telling them, “No. I do not want to live there.”
But it is hurtful of them to ASK for you to live there.
Especially when you take special care to try to help them move back into a shared reality.
When you tell them it is forgiven… but they are, stuck in their faux reality, unable to forgive themselves. They are so angry. The anger fills them up to capacity and they begin to serve it up to you. EXPECT you to happily accept that serving and eat it up.
But what they have offered… it is venom. If you accept it you will find yourself catatonicaly lost in *their* reality. You will find yourself apologizing for the wrongs you have done that are a pure fabrication. A history from a reality that you never lived.
Hey. Maybe I’ve been binge watching too much Fringe.
Or maybe… I have been quietly working on removing the venom.
It was both.
A lot of hurtful things are being said. I know I have said some pretty hurtful things in private. I have been my own type of angry these days. So angry that I’ve asked-- What did I do in a past life, that I must deserve this? What did I do to piss God off this much? How can they be this cruel, careless, mean, manipulative… stupid? I am so angry. And hurt. I have been self enclosing most of this anger. There is one person that is catching the brunt of this frustration. It’s not his job. He doesn’t love me. If I keep this up, he may never will.
In truth, I think, even if none of this ever happened… he wouldn’t have loved me anyway. I do not believe he ever will. I don’t know if that is self-inflicted doubt or the truth. I have my own realities to suss out. I’m not inviting anyone into my reality. I wish others would do the same.
The most hurtful thing being said?
I will never make my mother a grandmother.
That lashed out insult, shared in public, keeps swimming in my head.
I am currently waving an “I am never having children” flag. It is a new flag, that does not belong in my hands.
My high school sweetheart and I talked about kids. In a passive, unreal sort of dimension. It was a “someday” hypothesis. Our first daughter would be named Valkyrie. Our first son-- William, for William Gibson. We had our own set of priorities. In the end, our eventual pregnancy was very poorly timed. We were too young. Too far apart. Too unprepared. In an aftermath we spent years trying to make our teenage love Grow Up. It never did. When it was over… we appreciated that there were no casualties.
I had other pregnancies after that. One with a young man that was already struggling to see his first and only daughter with more frequency. I was not one to make things worse for him. One with a man… we had a great chemistry… and he fed that classic line, “It’s not a good time now. We can do this later.” Years later I am told he is married with a family and for a while I resented that quite a bit. Eventually I learned to be happy for him. Because he did have great… lot of things. And I’m glad someone finally figured how to work with that.
I perhaps scared away a Great Love by running my mouth about a commitment timeline that he hadn’t even started to think about. “When we have kids….” is the sort of statement that you should only make when your other is prepared.
And there was the humiliating Jeremiah and his drunken, violent breath in my neck. “I’m going to put a baby in you.”
Oh God. Anything but that.
And that’s when… I started to think. I don’t want children. I can’t trust a person to not screw it up. I can’t trust myself to not screw it up.
I watched as others started to screw it up. It is pretty easy to screw it up.
Screw your kids up.
Place your reality over theirs and make them eat it. Make them live in it.
Sometimes children are forced into living in a reality. And the adults are so drawn up in their world that they forget… it is CHANGEABLE.
Me asking for change is an abomination. It makes me A Total CUNT.
No. I can’t have kids. What if I screw it up? Worse. If I have kids their lives will be in a shared world, shared reality. They will live in a better place. And it will make them a target for the venom that I have been sussing out of my system. My children would be in the vipers path.
That isn’t fair to my Littles. The Littles in my life. The Littles I could have had.
It isn’t fair to me. But I am an adult. Fair is a fragment. The definition is shiftable. It is not fair that I have been made so uncomfortable that I no longer want something I always wanted. But it isn’t a matter of failed justice. It’s my reality to live. I’m not hurting anyone with this reality. And the greatest thing about saying, “I’m never having children.” is that I never have to invite anyone into that reality. Not having children is a single occupancy reality. And eventually, I feel I will settle into it quite well. I have to.
I’m not the kind of girl. No one has an urgency to be with me. Certainly no urgency to have more of something similar around.
For 20 years I have been fed a venom that has me pretty convinced… there is something wrong with me. I don't deserve to be happy. If I am happy it is because I am a heartless cunt that never helped anyone. If I am happy it must be at the cost of someone else. Twenty years of that abuse... and I'm convinced.
Also...In the historic timeline of my lovelife, they have all discovered there is nothing special about me.
I am with someone that finds nothing special about me. On his end our relationship is calm and polite. If it weren’t for my damn bucking about it would be perfectly mundane. Or maybe just perfect. I don’t know.
I can’t stop bucking.
And I should. I’m nothing special.
It is down right Zen.
And it’s safer this way.
