Deep down inside, I loathe certain characteristics of my being. The trauma of my dramatic upbringing has left me with many scars that I carry in shame. There are parts of me I will never be able to change, because every time I think I have, every time I think I am beyond their control, those parts of me come right back. I am ashamed to carry those faults within me and try to hide them from sight. No matter the method to the madness I use to run away from them, here we are. I’m still fucking up in the same ways more than I’d like to say is true.
I am overly defensive. I lie to my loved ones and I cheat in my relationships.
Growing up on the wrong side of right just for someone else’s twisted pleasure left its mark on my conscience and I’m still a terrified little girl inside. My sentient personality is always on guard, ready to please. I will go out of my way to be the good guy in any situation. I have to be the wiser one, the smarter one, the one who is always right or else I shut down. Just a simple inquiry over replacing the toilet paper roll can seem like a Secret Service counter-intelligence interrogation. I cover my tracks quicker than a junkie can hide their track marks from prying eyes, backtracking my way into a pit with no escape.
The feeling of being pushed up against the cold, eggshell-finish, pink wall of my bedroom, with my shoulders pinned down by his strong, muscular arms comes rushing back every time I feel I could even remotely be in the wrong somehow. My mind instantly jumps into protector mode and will vehemently deny anything, regardless of how petty, waiting for the spell cast over me to break with the stroke of midnight on the clock. If I can just hold on to myself, lies and truth and all, until that happens, then I will be safe again, my mind declares. There’s no fighting the irrationality of the behavior, even when all I want is to spit out the truth. Admitting I was wrong is just as hard for the same reason, too. The years of false blame and being wrongly accused of lying, to protect my stepmother from HER own deceit of others, destroyed my self-accountability, and now it destroys all that I love, like a horrible curse of misfortune on my soul.
This totally fucked up defense mechanism of mine has led me to overcompensate for my weaknesses with other deviant behaviors. I act like I know everything to mask my fear of being wrong. If I can outsmart others, I can never be questioned. And if I am never questioned, I won’t have to play defense to protect myself from the shame I feel. I also have a bad habit of trying to finish everyone’s thoughts for them, because of the fear. I’m a horrible listener, always listening for my cue to pipe in verses listening for facts and information that I can make reasonable deductions about when contributing to the conversation.
Somewhere along the way, I came to realize I can use my physical assets to keep the attention away from my faults, too. If people are too distracted by my nice rack and tight ass, then they won’t pay any heed to the faults which ruin every relationship I attempt to have. Unfortunately, my insecurities run as deep as my negative issues and only exacerbate my problems. The shame I carry depletes me of my self-worth. My physical assets are coveted and seen as something great to men. Put those two together and it becomes a cheating combination. If I feel like my relationship is being threatened on a significant level, I try to self-preserve by cheating in hopes I will be caught and it will turn the attention back on me, thus saving the relationship. I cannot bear the thought of losing love that is so hard for me to come by, so I turn to lust to ease the pain, banking on jealousy and possessiveness to gain from. Even when I know, good and well, doing so will simply backfire and add to the weight of my dishonor.
My own marriage has suffered the wrath of my cheating ways, twice physically and a few times online. I have shattered the relationship I could have molded from the second week we were engaged. After disappearing for a few days over Christmas break, I couldn’t help but fall back on my old ways. I was still just a kid and those ways were all still so shiny and new to me. I didn’t know myself the way I do now. After the second time while my husband was in jail for a crime we were both in part responsible for, I swore I would get that part of me under control, but with my few online tirades blossoming out of bogus justifications, I think it’s safe to say I’ve failed. Miserably. Some would simply call me a whore, though I beg to differ. My cheating goes way deeper than the sex, obviously. It is a serious flaw to my character.
My personality deficits have left me with a greatly unfulfilled life – empty of the deep, emotional connections with others I crave so intensely. Combined with all that is the good in me. Those defunct traits make up the core of my soul – whether I like them or not. It has been a struggle to work on those parts of me my whole life. Maybe, one day, I will find a way to turn the tables around for my benefit. I certainly hope so, as does my poor therapist. All the work I’ve put into deciphering and decoding the errors in my programming better not be for naught. I have worked so hard to overcome. I dream of the day I am free of the burdens that are my flaws. It is all that I want.
In fact, it is my hope that by revealing my personal deficits, putting myself on blast, I will set free some of the shameful burden chaining me to them. That I can take another step towards being the best me I can be. I have nothing left to lose by peeling back the layers of my faults and revealing all. A better woman awaits on the other side.