Bullied in Journal

We’ve been TTC for what seems like most of last year. In reality, we’ve only really been able to catch 2 solid months. It seems like a married couple should be able to plan these things, but it wasn’t exactly avoidable. DHs mom dying, her funeral, me getting sick, DH getting sick or just both of us tired from W being sick. Sheesh.
I feel drained and blue and depressed. Better than yesterday. I see the light at the end of the tunnel. I know why I feel depressed. And that’s honestly the best feeling, while being depressed.
There is just something very nihilistic about being depressed and the frustration of not knowing why, goddammit.
Anywho. My bday is coming up, and then W’s.
I remember my labor with him. I was a fucking legend. 4 days no sleep. He was in the birth canal for 5 hours.
I was an absolute sadistic tyrant to myself. I thought you should be able to do this. You have to do this. It’s your only job. You’ve had 9months to prepare, now just fucking do it. Dispassionate, barely contained rage at the idea that my body would even dare to consider not doing it’s fucking job.
But, I was tired of being bullied. I was tired of being threatened. I was tired of being violently attacked, ridiculed, my needs dismissed, my preferences shamed. I was ready to discard this painful and unproductive habit of bullying myself. I courageously went on strike.
Looking back, I’m so glad I did.

I’m editing to add a bit of context to my outrage over being bullied. Or, bullying myself rather.
The memory of sharing with my mother for the first time about my thoughts and feelings of my childhood kept coming up while I was reflecting on this. I told my mom how I felt- which was, terribly lonely, terribly unwanted, and terribly horrified, humiliated, stressed, and above all, painfully, tragically self blaming. Throughout my sharing, I was open to my mother. I asked how she felt about what I was saying. I was compassionate. I was kind. I was concerned. I was curious. I looked at her twisted snarl and I asked with sensitivity, “it really seems like you’re acting as if I’m attacking you,” and her tight drawn lips parted, she snapped in that deep down disgust and rage “You are attacking me.”
Now there is no integrity without integrity to the Self.
How can I consistently treat someone as viscously hateful as a my mom with more compassion, concern and respect than I do for my Self?
And that is the outrage of my Self. The brave, courageous, compassionate, reasonable and valuable within me always gets shit on. Because between the 2 of us, mom was always less reasonable. Unreasonable people are willing to resort to violence. Reasonable people aren’t. Of course, if association is not chosen, we have to defer to the unreasonable.
But, I rejected deferring to the unreasonable when I decided that threats and escalation were a boundary violation. I acceptmy mom by declining participation; I will simply go where reason has purchase. Where reason is effective.
And my Self cries out. What about me!? The same courageous compassion that asked my mother how she was feeling when I was still shaking with terror. What about me?

Last updated February 02, 2022