So, I have been doing this thing. You know, where, you trade one protective instinct for another. I mean, let’s be honest, I can downplay it, and give you all the reasons, but the reality is, I have been approaching the world weapons drawn.
Over the past year, a lot has been blamed on my illness. And to be fair, it deserves a lot of the blame. I am engaged a physical battle the majority of my time. As much as I want to pretend “I am fine,” for the comfort of others, there are times, it is just too overwhelming, too burdensome, too exhausting. And frankly, I am too angry, too bitter, too resentful to be able to properly balance myself for public display.
I have allowed a lot to be blamed on my illness because it is easier. By extension, because it is easily misunderstood, that has led to a lot of judgment about who I am.
And I have spent a lot of time battling.
To save my reputation.
To communicate my intentions.
To explain my position.
To be heard.
And these weapons are getting heavy.
And sometimes, they become unwieldy, and I hurt others that I did not truly intend to injure.
I am strikingly out of place.
I swallowed my pain, and I lashed out. Sure, there are instances, my anger is likely justified, but even in those, I am gaining nothing. I am stewing. I am hurting. I am diminished and minimized until I effectively disappear.
And the truth is, it is me. I am not judging the relative right or wrongness of the sides or our approaches. I am saying the participation in the battle is wrong. I have to stop engaging.
Sometimes, we have to accept that we are the ogre in the room, regardless of our intent, we are the big, green creature that scares everyone.
I may not ever be what is acceptable. But I can be quiet. I can retreat.
I believed even in losing my physical power, I could still find strength through my voice. And I got louder. I spoke up more. And I even, sometimes, poked a few bears. Got a little gutsy, really.
I soon realized, the more I spoke, the louder I got, the more I had people coming out of nowhere to challenge me personally. The methods are always the same. Personal and vicious.
Some, had been around a long time, but remained sleeping. They came in ready to attack, but demanded defending. And the wrath that unleashed was deafening. But the attacks didn’t stop at me. They spread throughout anyone associated with me.
And it began looking like a practiced and polished method. In life, and online.
Then, a fairly innocuous comment on a thread that I made, or so I thought, was reported by someone who then found one of the few public posts on my page and proceeded to have a tirade, similar to the other, before jumping from the public forum to the private messages of everyone on the thread and sending friend requests until be blocked and banned.
https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=10204505249787965&id=1734325110
And it occurs in much more subtle ways.
I have been told a great deal of my life to toughen up, speak up, stand up. “Quit being a doormat.” I did. But I don’t think I tempered it well.
Kindness indicates weakness.
Civility is ignored.
Evidence is reframed as negativity.
Demands, careful there. You may even be teetering on “crazy.”
At the end of the day, the results are the same.
And the point is, I too, had begun borrowing those same weapons.
I, finally aware of how similar I looked, could not bear my own reflection.
I admitted yesterday, to my husband, that yes, I had become a bully. I am fighting physically, emotionally, and mentally every single day. And I don’t know how to switch it off, but it isn’t fair to those around me.
I had a conversation recently about how narratives are framed to guide perception, and how sometimes, we develop a reputation regardless of intent, that encourages others to provoke us. And I began to see it in my own life.
I will own that I set that standard. Now, I can decide whether or not I will be provoked.
And this morning, when I got up, and my husband saw me, he greeted me with, so, “Did you hear about Arianna Grande’s dress?”
And I just looked at him.
It wasn’t her dress.
And I realized in that moment, that unless I just stop. Unless I just create my own peace, I will never have it.
So my weapons are down.
This bear needs a rest.
Peerspectives 