Being abused by persons of both genders is confusing to say the least. How do I sort out the ideas and thoughts that go along with this?
I sort of rationalized the male/female abuse in my head for many reasons. Maybe he was lonely? Maybe I was attractive to him? Maybe I did provoke him in some way? Then I rationalized the female/female abuse by making excuses for the abuser. Maybe she didn’t have a mother? Maybe she always wanted a daughter? Maybe I provoked her in some way?
The only real sense I could make of it was that I was either not meant to be born, or I was here only for others’ sick needs.
In the last 7 years or so, I’ve chosen to not be involved with anyone that involves intimacy and commitment. Partly because I knew I had issues that wouldn’t allow me to love and care for someone else. And, partly because I was still trying to figure out if I was preferred by one sex or the other. Or if maybe I had missed the mark altogether and should have never been married, etc.
There have been times in my life when I hated my body. I hated my sexuality. I hated being a woman. I hated being too masculine. I hated being too skinny. I hated being too fat. I hated my long hair. I hated by short hair.
I always thought if I denied certain parts of myself or my desires, that I could just go thru life not needing or desiring attention or intimacy from any one. In the process of denying these parts of me, (or hating them), I probably have missed out on relationships with friends, lovers, maybe even a spouse. Who knows?
Since I have begun this journey, I think a lot about missed opportunities and the amount of time I have spent alone. I was trying to avoid pain and abandonment. I was trying to avoid being loved or cared about because that always came with a tradeoff.
The only real genuine love I have been able to feel is the love for my son and granddaughter and their love for me.
I do love others and I know others love me. But there is something that keeps me from believing that it’s true. It almost feels like I have created this love in my head and I’m too afraid to believe it.
All of this self-talk has also convinced me that there is no way that God could love me either. If God loved me, would He have allowed this? How can God love someone who is so broken and damaged? How can God love me and allow me to go thru this heart pain?
Honestly, this past year, I have doubted God. I want to know the end of my story, so that I can get past the beginning. I want to know that trying to conquer these issues is the right thing to do. I want to know that I’m not needlessly dredging up the past.
I have identified myself as a wife, daughter, mother, sister, grandmother, cousin, and friend.
But the truth is that every day I question who I am and what is my purpose?
Until next time – I am being MJ every day.