Today was Therapy Thursday and I have a few more things to forgive myself for as a result of my talk with Doc Costin.
But first, about him. There I was, unloading my thoughts about my recent campaign of forgiving myself for stuff, and he starts fucking arguing with me.
He says he didn’t think I had anything to feel guilty about and that it was other people who should feel guilty about what they did to me.
And I tried to just move past it. I told him that whether or not he felt I deserves all my guilt and shame, I had it any way. And it seemed like he understood, but a few minutes later he would be back at it and still not getting it at all.
And I really need him to get me.
So I confronted him on it and he kept defending his attitude and I grew increasingly frustrated. It escalated to the point where, and I swear I am not making this up, I said “Why are you arguing with me?”
And he replied, “I don’t think that I am. ”
Things only got worse from there.
I am starting to think that the real issue is that he gets overwhelmed by the power and complexity of what I am saying and how I am expressing it and picking an argument is his way of defending himself against it by making it stop.
Well I am not fucking putting up with it any more. And I am proud of myself for asserting myself on the issue.
Hell, maybe I make him feel insecure with my big ol brain. Or maybe he just gets bored.
All I know is that if he wants to argue, I will give him more argument than he can handle. I have been merciful and restrained so far but he is really starting to piss me off.
Anyhow, on with the forgives.
I forgive myself for being absentminded. It’s one of my biggest problems and it has been there my whole life. I have been a dreamer with his head in the clouds since I was in elementary school and would read while walking to and from school.
That is not easy. And is ultimately not worth it. Thank goodness the Walkman came along to easy my journey in a less hazardous fashion.
Until I started wearing it on my bike….
Anyhow, I forgive myself for my absentmindedness and all the trouble it has caused me over the years. It was the inevitable result of my hard retreat into my mind as a result of being raped, and like I said, that wasn’t my choice either.
So to be clear, I forgive myself for being raped, too. Should not be necessary to do so seeing as I did absolutely nothing wrong, but one of the cruelest aspects of rape is that it leaves the victim feeling guilty and dirty and ashamed whereas the rapist might feel absolutely no shame at all.
To me, it was the worst thing that ever happened to me.
To him, it was Tuesday.
So yes, I forgive myself for being raped. I was four. I was helpless. I did nothing wrong, there was nothing I could have done to prevent it, it’s not my fault that I didn’t even have the words to tell anyone what happened, and I have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of or otherwise feel bad about myself about.
It didn’t make me a dirty boy who was inherently spoiled and rotten. I was a perfectly pure and innocent child and a good, good boy who deserved – and deserves – all the love in the world and then some.
I am not inherently toxic, dirty, radioactive, poisonous, or bad.
I am a good, clean, wholesome, worthwhile human being.
And I deserve love.
More after the break.
Bonus content! Check this out :
The fire down below
I almost regret adding that GIF up there because I keep watching it over and over.
Dang you, WYSIWYG!
Anyhow. Stay on target.
I forgive myself for being so full of bitterness and rage. As much as I still fear the rage and the bitterness and the fire inside me from so many years being victimized without any way of defending myself or striking back, I refuse to be ashamed of it any more.
And I am working on the fear thing too.
Right now, I am still scared that if I don’t handle that anger very very carefully, it will blow up in my face and take my sanity with it.
Highly unlikely, to be honest. My fears of going on some kind of spree of violence and rage are probably just bullshit bogeymen conjured by my depression.
Getting back to forgiveness, I forgive myself for all that rage and hereby declare that having said darkness within me does not make me a terrible or monstrous person except inasmuch as thinking of myself as such makes me feel more safe.
Sometimes, you want to be the monster. Or at least have that as an option.
But it doesn’t make me a bad person. I’m still the same sweet lovable wacky funster that I have always been. I’m a good person and a nice guy.
I just have this burden of rage to work through because of my lifelong difficulty expressing anger and the resultant amount of bullshit that “should” have made me angry that I passively absorbed instead.
It made me sadder, not madder. At the time.
But the anger didn’t evaporate. It was suppressed and hence locked away in an underground lake of molten lava and pyroclastic clay.
At least I have walked my road enough to know that I cannot throw off my old burdens without addressing this liquid ire. Like my guilt and shame, it doesn’t matter how it got there or whether it’s justified or not, it’s there now, and I have to deal with it.
Luckily, all is not grim, The energy locked away in all that bitter rage can be used for many things, not just wanton destruction.
It is the stuff of life, the primal id, the wellspring and driving force of all action. Sure, it is the driving force behind anger, but it also can power passion, joy, enthusiasm, levity, empathy, and even our old friend lust.
I love lust. It’s so innocent.
So while I no doubt will have to work with my rage and bitterness as themselves, as I uncork my id I will be increasingly able to drain some of its energy away and put them to more constructive use.
To hell with rage.
How about bliss?
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.