Wow. I just realized it's been weeks since I wrote anything here. Or it feels like weeks, at least. I feel somewhat guilty, and yet not. This is my space, after all. My little corner in which I can deal with the world using writing as a tool.
Anyhow, I've been going through a lot of bad things lately, and some day, I might feel comfortable writing about it (I need to deal with it, but not right now). Today, I'd like to touch on the subject of boundaries. This piece will contain stuff that can trigger many bad memories. If you or anyone you know needs help, there are a host of hotlines you can contact, some of which I have listed in a previous post.
MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNINGS: predator behavior, self-hate, guilt, self-harm, ignored boundaries, rape
This post was inspired by this article over at CaptainAwkwardDotCom. Please, check it out. I totally love CaptainAwkward, by the way.
OK, on to the ranting bit of this post:
I have long struggled with boundaries. Not other people's boundaries, but my own (I would never willingly/knowingly compromise someone else' boundaries). What are my boundaries? How do I feel about my boundaries? Have my Self been compromised and/or violated? Have I imagined being compromised? Am I being oversensitive?
Thing is, I have let myself been walked all over for almost my entire life, all in the name of acceptance. I told myself that I would never be a person who would end up in an abusive relationship. I would never accept being subjected to violation of my boundaries or compromises when it comes to my comfort zone.
But!
I have.
I have let people walk all over me. I have let people trample my sense of self, my dignity, and my self-respect. I have been physically abused and raped by an ex-boyfriend. I have been emotionally abused by the people who are supposed to care for me.
The clearest sign of a social predator looking for a target is the search for someone whose boundaries can be tested with no/little resistance. They will charm their way into your social circle, then push you until you break. Usually, we think about these predators as strangers or acquaintances. Rarely do we realize that these predators also come in the Biological/Adopted Family, Lover, and/or Friend varieties as well.
There are people in my life who make me question my own memory and my sanity. Who will push me into Guilt Territory if I put up any resistance. Every time I try to shut these people out, they change, making me believe that this time, it will be different (see a pattern here?), but every time, they switch back as soon as they think it's safe to do so. This switching pattern have caused me to do very bad things, mostly to myself. I have cut myself. I have scratched myself with sharp objects. I have starved myself, and I binge-and-purge on occasion. If I didn't have Boy by my side, I would have crumbled or freaked a long time ago.
A predator will weasel their way into your life and under your skin, using imitations of caring and love in order for you to drop your guard. Some predators have it easy, especially in the case of Biological Family. The love for parents is conditioned into a child's brain from birth and society makes damn sure you don't question it as you grow up. The guilt of standing up to a parent and calling them on bullshit behavior is overwhelming and extremely hard to fight.
Other predators have to work harder, such in the case of Lovers, Friends, or Adopted Family, but the pattern is the same. They will make you care for them, then jab you until you believe that they are the only ones who matter. In extreme cases, the predator might kill you (as with the serial killer in the linked article). In other cases they will violate your sense of self, your self-respect, and/or your body in ways that will leave scars and wounds that will never heal properly.
When I moved out from my parents, I thought everything would be great. My own home, my own responsibilities etc etc. What happened was an apartment that looked like a storage unit and boxes filled with stuff I've never used clogging up my attic and closets. Now, six years later, I finally have an apartment I feel at home in, and I'll take that one way ticket to Hell before I let anyone breach the sanctity of my home. In my home, I want to feel safe. I want to feel loved and secure. And right now, I do. Just me and Boy, living together in something that's starting to feel like a home. That's all I need. Outside forces are trying to rob me of my sense of self, by making light of my beliefs, by telling me that I can only be liked if I change things about myself. These people are no longer welcome in my home. My home is my sanctuary and no social predator will destroy it for me.
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