I don't like it when people's mental illnesses cause them to be unpredictably abusive. It's scary walking on eggshells never knowing when they'll switch. Many times I have been unable to protect myself from the swift speed of rage projected on me. I've had to call police. I've had to hide. I've had to lie and act like everything is fine so as not to escalate a dangerous person's rage. I've had to swallow my discomfort for their comfort so many times it feels normal. I've made myself so small.
Childish tantrums look stupid on grown adults. I'm tired of being "dominated" by people so weak they can't even control themselves.
I might not be such an introvert if people were a little less reactive and moody. Fewer sudden fits and insults and screaming might make me feel more at ease... I like softly spoken words, calm respectful communication, compassion, kindness. I like having fun. Fighting isn't fun. I'd rather have a root canal.
I am constantly fearful of pissing anyone off because even when I shrink myself into a submissive mouse, that inspires yelling? People have wars in their heads and I trespass through their imaginary warzones because it's on the way to my refrigerator and it's my fault because I am there. It makes one skittish...
And, discovering I'm being stalked too, just before my dad's yelling fit, and before the unalcoholic's morning terrorism... All within a month. People are scary. Might opt out of life and just hide in my apartment forever.
When I was little I tried to lock myself in my room to escape my mom's rages, until she kicked the door down, then my dad removed the lock so I had nowhere to hide (while he avoided home by hypocritically running away to work.) So I had to find other places to hide. So I'd crouch inside my dog's kennel for a few hours until the screaming passed. Sometimes I hid in the hamper. Sometimes I'd climb the fence and run down the street to my friend's house. When I returned my room looked like it had been burglarized. All my belongings in a massive pile in the middle of the floor. My diary broken open. My art disassembled into a million tiny pieces. A great big giant mess I'd have to spend days cleaning up. My mom's mess. Not because of anything I did wrong. Just because she had a moodswing. My brother went into foster care. I chose to stay behind and brave the periodic massacres so I could graduate high school and move away. I followed my dad's advice and did everything my mom told me to, all to maintain a crumb of stability so I could graduate. Didn't drink or do drugs or date. I had one goal only and that was to survive the chaos so I could move and rebel against the insane asylum I grew up in by reading books quietly in a university library somewhere. Professors understood and encouraged and supported me. With them I got to be the prized student. I was always asked to be someone's TA. Always used as an example to the other students. The exact opposite of life at home. Lucky I had outlets.
Now that I've learned about boundaries I use them a lot. (More than I wish I had to.) I spend a lot of time alone because I enjoy peace and safety.
It freaks me out when people glitch and believe things that aren't true or hear things that aren't there. The disturbing assumptions I receive when someone is acting unstable is probably just them trying to pick a fight when there's nothing else to fight about. I think even they don't believe their accusations. I think it's more about them blowing off steam than about me being actually misunderstood, which is how I used to feel. I don't think there's much intelligence behind it beyond bullying. It's caveman mentality. 'Me mad. Me smash things.'
Welp. Nothing much I can do that I'm not already doing. I'm grateful for consistently meditating and exercising. I'm grateful that I now live in a space that I can lock and feel safe inside. I'm grateful I surpassed goals I had for myself long ago and grateful for how far I've come and how much I've grown. I'm grateful for peace and quiet when I'm alone. I'm grateful for physical safety. I'm grateful for the delicious foods I'll bake today and grateful for the sweet pets who rub noses with me. Grateful for soft fuzzy little noses! Grateful for mental health. Grateful for the fun times I've had with crazy people during sane phases in their lives. Grateful for music and art and film and food and play. Grateful for all the experiences I've had and the meaningful connections I've made, lasting or not.
Above all, I am grateful for my relationship with myself.
10:10 a.m. - 2021-11-06