Abused. in Phoenix

Reading this today on Facebook stunned me speechless for a moment. This is how I’ve lived my entire adult life, accepting abuse with love because that’s all I’ve ever known. I think my mind has been trained to believe that love can’t come without abuse, that the abuse is required for the love to exist.

I think this is why I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m always waiting for that one message or phone call. Things are too good, something must go wrong, or it’s not real.

I don’t know how to carry on a healthy relationship. I don’t know how to love and be loved without pain and fear and abuse. I keep waiting on myself to fuck everything up in a glorious fashion. Because I can’t love myself without abuse, either, you know? I don’t know how to love myself unconditionally yet. I sure do like myself a whole lot more than I ever have, but I still have far too many moments of self-abuse, negative self-talk. I’m insanely over-critical of myself, of everything I say and do.

I’m also still struggling with the idea that I deserve anything. How could I possibly deserve the love of a person who doesn’t want to hurt me or own me or control me? How could I possibly deserve the love of a person so beautiful, so genuine and good, when I’m such a monster who has never deserved it before?

I don’t know how to accept love that isn’t bundled with abuse. And I think that’s not fair to anyone involved. I mean, it’s not fair to me, but I don’t much care about that. I’m afraid that my insecurities are what drive everyone away from me eventually, or make it easier for them to stay and abuse me, maybe. Some people are just sick like that, you know? They see someone like me, someone scared, mentally ill, painfully insecure, and that’s just an easy mark, isn’t it? Someone who has already been a victim is easy to re-victimize again and again and use that as a method of control.

Okay, yeah, that’s what has been done to me. I didn’t ask for any of that. I didn’t ask for abusive parents, an abusive family, abusive friends, and abusive lovers. I never asked for any of that shit, and I didn’t fucking deserve it. But, being abused as a child primed me to be abused as an adult.

At least now I am aware and can make the choice not to be abused anymore, right? Now if I could just figure out how to stop abusing myself…