I suppose my life experiences have made it very difficult for me to trust people. It's strange to be known as such a people person, yet I've realized, I'm terrified of the ability people have to harm one another, especially when they're already wounded.
Perhaps it's why I tend to be a people pleaser. I desperately reach for acceptance and hope that I will be loved enough that I won't be abandoned again.
My fear of being tormented has been dismissed repeatedly since I started to open my mouth and let my words of my pain trickle. I've been surprised at people who would take the time to give love to an outright stranger.
So, why is it that I constantly and consistently think of the one's who have harmed me? I put all that fear on each character I encounter. I take the chance by letting out the hurt, then cower, covering my head to protect it from the beatdown.
Then the shock comes. The realization that the majority of the people in this world are genuinely good hearted. I'm reminded of this so frequently. They'll surprise me with words to help, not hurt.
Yet still, I go to bed and lie frozen with fear. I panic about the possibility of people finding ways to peck at the weakest chicken in the coop. I'm reminded of the groups of people who have blatantly ganged up on me and made my life hell until I slinked away, marred and defeated.
I'm reminded of the day I came home to find my partner of 6 years having a 'packing party' with about 30 of her cronies. I came home to my belongings in the hall and the locks on the door changed. I'm reminded of them all standing on the balcony pointing and laughing at the dismay of my new found homelessness and broken heart.
I'm reminded of the people who believed the heroin addict when she said I was just trying to start rumours about her. I'm reminded of them belittling me instead of believing me. I'm reminded of them taking the side of the addict, and an entire community putting blame upon me for trying to harm her with what they believed to be lies. And all the while I suffered the loss of someone I loved in solitude.
In the case of my most current torture in life, I'm reminded of only 2 people; the first 2 people I contacted, whom I thought would answer my plea for the support I desperately needed. They didn't take the time to come back to me with a response and they left me ready to yet again be dissed. These 2 people have re-opened the wounds and made it so fucking hard to trust anybody, lest I be pecked once more.
I'm just way too unsteady to handle another blow.
Somehow I still take a chance at opening my mouth to people who don't know me, and I'm ready for the backhand, because if people I thought were my friends would reject me, then strangers most definitely wouldn't hold back to harm me. I'm ready for the attempted murder of my ego.
I'm proven wrong.
The gentle souls of the world have been so good to my damaged self. These are the ones who would stretch a hand out to try to wipe my tears for me. The new psychologist who would spend a half hour on the phone with me to ease that moment of pain without my wallet being opened because she recognized that my voice sounded as if I was ready to permanently take refuge in the pit that I'm falling further into with every tear.
All the people who have proven my distrust wrong fill the 'pro' side of the list leaving the 'con' side to look like a meager paper cut.
So why is it that I fear the 2 people will grow into 4, 8, 16, 32 until eventually I'll be left alone again? Why is it that when it's time to sleep I'm tormented by these 2? Why are they the ones who keep me hiding silently in my house, unable to speak my words of pain? I keep writing to 'you', my imaginary friend, yet I know that there are people other than 'you' listening and shining their light on me.
I see their light, but I guess I'm just so far down the pit that from here, the luscious ray only looks like a strand of fiber optic.
I'm so afraid of the dark.