I’m shoving all my hard-earned inheritance into your pockets, just for the shit of it. Spend it any way you want. Or save it. Watch it grow. I expect nothing in return except a kind smile and extreme tolerance of who I might be.
That was my perspective for many years. I felt that I was such a nuisance that I’d give up all my inner freedom for anyone’s company. Didn’t matter how poorly they treated me, as long as they were by my side.
I could ring the bell of “what is the origin of this?” My family’s decades-long emotional and narcissistic abuse toward me? Growing up in the 1980s cocaine kingdom of Great Neck, NY? Never being in therapy at the ripe age of 3 1/2, shortly after being sexually abused by a twenty-one-year-old arsonist?
Probably all of the above and then some.
I’m honestly tired of rehashing these old wounds, but from what I know, complex PTSD isn’t a rainbows-and-unicorns type of healing. It’s grueling work. One has to learn to self-regulate… I truly had no idea what that meant until this year.
The repeated advice of “go out there and join a club, take a hike in the woods, think on the bright side” is a bunch of bullshit when your heart is racing a million beats a second because of a dream, or some stranger reminded you of someone abusive from the past.
Where I am right now is a far cry from take-all-my-money-just-so-you-can-tolerate-me. I’ve come to accept that I’d rather have no humans in my life if that means abuse, torture, and neglect are the payoff.
There are so many beautiful non-humans (dogs, cats, trees, gardens, crystals, fictional characters) that can fill the void. While I’m mingling with these magical creatures, I will still hold onto the hope that there are wonderful humans out there who want to be just as silly, loving, inspiring, and attentive as I feel all beings should be.
Folks, that’s where you’ll find me.
