Vulnerability

After the Flight for Freedom, I began to notice a change. They say it takes time to undo the effects of long-term abuse, and they aren't kidding. You question everything you do, every decision you make, every emotion. You question your worth, and ultimately, your right to just BE. For me, it made me very snippy and short, and I compensated for the lack of confidence with being overly lenient with my children. To me, they had suffered and immeasurable loss and hardship. Their mother left their father, because he had abused her. The children knew why I had left through listening to my end of phone conversations with my support network in LA. Though far away, they are still family, and were crucial in my leaving their dad.

There's a learning curve to independence. I thought, initially that I couldn't do it, period. Then I thought I could do it with help. Lots of help. Then I questioned whether THAT was right. Eventually I realized I hadn't burned the children down or totally ruined the house. I am far from perfect, but I could be doing much, MUCH worse. Learning to be more forgiving with myself is something I struggle with daily. I try not to let the insecurity creep in, but from time to time, it happens, especially when it's something that matters to me.

I care very much about how I do in my new job. I love the work, it's challenging and interesting, which are two things I NEED, I have come to realize. I enjoy working with people, and my job allows this. It's also intellectually stimulating, so I get to feel smart regularly. Yay! :) I care about my children. While they drive me up one wall and down another, they are important to me. When I think about screwing up with them, it brings the cold sweats, the insecurities pop out, and I react instead of think. I think it is with them that I have THE MOST insecurity. I can get another job, but I cannot get another chance to raise my children.

In thinking about that, it makes me mindful that I have a temper, and lose it more often than I would like to admit to, even on here. I yelled at my daughter on Friday, and when I had a chance to get away from the situation, I felt bad, guilty that I had lost my temper and felt like it was OKAY to have done so. I came to a realization then. It wasn't okay to lose my temper, and it never IS okay to lose my temper. Getting mad is okay, natural, and human, but when you lose control of that, when you're screaming at your kid about another lost ID, and then things come out that you didn't intend on yelling at them about, you realize that not only have you lost your temper, you have gone pretty close to, if not in the middle of abuse.

Now, I have been reassured that it will be okay.. The child will NOT die, or suffer, but I can't help but think "Gosh, didn't I leave their father for similar reasons?" I certainly wouldn't like to be spoken to that way, so what gives ME the right to speak to HER, to THEM, to ANYONE that way? AHA! Growth. First you question the behavior, then you can change it. Heh There is vulnerability in being wrong. It isn't the end of the world to be wrong, to make mistakes, but damned if it doesn't make you question your worth as a person.

I got upset with my Good Friend this weekend over a misunderstanding. I thought he had blown me off, when he actually called me the day before I had my minor meltdown. Ah, nothing is quite so refreshing as feeling like an ass. But, that brings me back to vulnerability. I have feelings for this friend of mine, and in having them, I have insecurity and vulnerability. I care for him, muchly. I would love to be his sweetie, and the miles and miles of distance amplifies the neurosis. :) Being an awesome guy (very), he put up with it, but I felt bad for being an ass. I guess if I didn't act like one from time to time, I'd have to be some kind of saint.

What kind of fun would THAT be?