I was told in therapy that I had a “very big heart”.
Which translates to, I’m gullible. I trust people’s words, not their actions.
But I’m learning that in order to be strong and to navigate away from this, I need to notice action and frankly, ignore words.
I’ve been discarded more than a few times. A man is done with me but still wants access to my labor, my energy and my body. Because they are selfish, entitled, immature cowards. Maybe he feels guilty for, I don’t know, buying my childhood home then inviting his ex girlfriend over and verbally bashing me in my old bedroom or lying to me about who he was and what his intentions are because he was lonely or maybe he’s secretly gay (just throwing out some possible scenarios that have no basis in reality *WINK*).
They KNOW they are done with me, but for whatever reason, they keep me around. Until they can get a new chick or really, until **I** just can’t take it anymore, and that might take a while because I have a very high tolerance for bullshit (thanks, mom and dad!).
This has absolutely crushed my soul. To trust someone SO deeply only to have them treat you like shit so you’ll self edit, so you’ll leave because you feel SO BAD? Fucking torture. Looking back I can see them trying to wipe me off their shoes like dog doo they stepped in. With disdain and pure coldness, but always while saying they still love me.
Where do they learn how to do this be an asshole until the woman leaves, thing???
So, unfortunately, I need to be more discerning and aware of actions and react to those. That’s the only way to handle it. Because all of those men told me they loved me (one even CRIED about how much they loved me) while actively pushing me away and kicking me in the face, emotionally speaking. (And not one made a fuss when I actually left… so… more evidence right there),
Anywho… moving on, I need to grow up and realize this. And this is how I do it.
How to become a healthy woman who doesn’t hate herself. A Three Strikes Approach:
- Believe what I see, not what I hear. Feelings are real, but not always evidence. If a man starts pulling back. If he gets snippy, flakey or tries to dominate in any way, I’ll make a note of it. I need to notice neutrally. Not give him the benefit of the doubt or project lovey dovey bullshit on him. I notice and I don’t gaslight myself into ignoring it. This is strike one.
- So, he does the thing again and it’s now becoming a pattern. I will state my needs once, maybe twice at most. Communicate directly and neutrally. This is strike two. If I find myself over explaining how I was hurt or I try to show him how to treat me better, that is a huge red flag. I must stay calm and neutral. Give him a chance to make it right.
- He does that shit again. Strike three. I walk. And I have to be prepared to walk. And this is the kicker. I over invest, I see their soul, I fall in love way too easily because I can see the beauty in a pile of rotting organic matter. I can make trash glamorous.
In order to accomplish this, I need to see reality clearly. Not be a sucker, listen to my intuition and be aware. Calm is my compass. Not butterflies and panic attacks if I don’t get a goodnight text.
I can’t take this personally, I just need to protect myself and love myself MORE than I love the IDEA OF HIM.
Easier said than done, all of this. I’m almost FIFTY and acting like a fourteen year old girl. Yikes.
And I must walk away earlier. I must do this. I hold on, I am loyal, I give grace, I fight for the relationship. This part of me must have a viking funeral. Fire. So much fire.
Here I am with mantras now… who the hell are you.
“I am no longer available for emotional ambiguity. If your presence costs me peace, I’ll choose absence.”
I need to take out the trash earlier, not celebrate its quaint beauty that only I can see blah blah blah American Beauty reference.
If he wants me, if he loves me, if he respects me… I’ll know. Plain and simple. There’s no room for negotiation here.
p.s… when I’m having a shit day, blogging has helped me tremendously. Gathering my thoughts, choosing an image, typing feverishly and passionately is a balm on my broken heart. I may delete this, but this has been so good for me in the meantime.
