It's a quiet battle now. On my part, at least. No longer the surprise at the incessant need for my ex to try to raise my ire. My sweet, tenacious, 4yr old Tot turned to me tonight and said "Daddy gets mad at you sometimes because you don't..." I stopped him. I reiterated to my boy that he's loved. He asked me if I "love daddy?" I spoke honestly. I said all people deserve kindness which "Is why we try not to talk bad about daddy." I no longer have the anxiety of an unexpected court hearing. They vanished suddenly some time ago. I am quite capable of ending any argument before it turns me into raging dragon in front of my son. I still enjoy slamming the door on stupid questions. Stupid questions like "Why can't he spend the night with me?" I am not the type of person to answer a question when they all ready know the answer. I completely adhere to the simple fact that actions speak louder than words. How do you tame an Irish / German dragon? You calmly tell her that her silence will win the war. You keep telling her that she is much stronger than this. You don't try to leash her. Irony? You don't even attempt to tame her. Why? I'll tell you the same thing I tell my reflection in the mirror every splendid morning and quiet, hushed night "I am better than this. You are a survivor. Don't define yourself as a fighter. You're not going to cower in the corner and hide. Get up, girl. Get out there. This is your moment. This is your life."
Nearly everyone around me now wants to simplify the definition of a sociopathic narcissistic abuser. I shrug my shoulders now and quietly go about my way. He is what he is. I wonder. Would you spend so much time trying to paint over a zebra's stripes? No. It's damn useless and stupid. Not ignorant. Stupid. So I don't try to paint over it any more. I no longer have to monitor my reaction. I know who I am. I, in no way, need his definitive approval or disapproval. His life is havoc. It's his choice. He can't keep Tot the full allotted time, which is limited in the way the court originally wrote it. His choice. He returns clothes to my doorstep that he's bought Tot. His choice. He promises Tot new toys. His choice. He talks bad about me. His choice. I understand the psychology behind it all. Transference of energy. Paint me as the "bad guy" so that the abuser can somehow justify his senseless actions. Again. It's stupid.
A little off the subject, but not very far. Let's define the difference between stupid and ignorant. Ignorant means you've done something wrong that you weren't aware was bad, prior to committing the "bad action." Stupid means you know damn well it's bad and that there's no excuse suitable, yet you do the "bad action" despite better judgment and knowledge. Ahh. This reminds of the argument I had with my older brother when I was younger. He claimed I was ignorant. I startled him when I said, "No. Actually I'm stupid." This made him mad because he didn't quite understand what I was talking about. He yelled and yelled. I said that was stupid. He insisted on calling it ignorant. I grabbed the ginormous Webster's dictionary. Turned to page that defined ignorant. Calmly read it to him. Then I turned to the page that defined stupid. Calmly read it. All the while, he was yelling. Then I calmly hit him in the head and said "Now see? That was stupid. Mom's gonna be mad." Now don't go defining me as a violent person, for Pete's sake. I bopped him just hard enough to make him stop. It worked.
My lovely readers. All so kind and patient. It's been a long journey. So well worth it - hiding away - being the hermit. Now? I feel life all around me. I have the mostest ;) beautiful friends that take the place of my dysfunctional family. I have a love inside me growing. A love for myself. No more apologies. I am who I am. Oh, and I love me. Ain't no one gonna stop my train.
No comments:
Post a Comment