So I was in the bath about a week and a half ago-
Oh. So you're one of those people...
Those people?
Yeah. Those people that sit in the tub and think instead of just taking a quick shower and getting on with their lives.
Oh. Yeah. I'm those people.
Anyway. I was in the bath about a week and a half ago, and I was just thinking about random things ( I don't even remember what) when all of a sudden, a thought just struck me - I cared.
Huh? Alright, we're going to a little more back story for that to make any sense. Seriously.
Alright, let me back up.
So, if you know me at all, you'll know that I've had a lot of issues with my biological mother and that, over the past year and half or so, I've really been trying to get past all the abuse and resulting baggage I suffered at her hands. There's been several major stages through which I've gone on this journey; some of you have been here for the whole ride and know that it's been pretty crazy. For those of who haven't been here the whole time, I'll explain what those steps were, albeit in a much-abbreviated form.
The first step started immediately after my dad finally filed for divorce. It was kind of a "realization" stage. It wasn't a "denial" stage that I think a lot of kids go through after a divorce; in fact, I think it was kind of the opposite. It was a stage where I just realized that the constant physical battle of life and death wasn't an issue anymore. I didn't have to turn every corner wandering if there was a fist on the other side of it. I could change the volume on the radio without being thrown against a wall. I could play a game in my living room without someone trying to smother me with a pillow. I was physically safe. That wasn't a very traumatic transition, just a weird one. But it was definitely a very distinct phase I experienced. This probably lasted a couple of weeks - not very long.
The next phase went on for a really long time. Like, almost a year. Here's the thing: I was mad. I was hurt and angry and raging and confused and I wanted to make someone pay, mostly Robyn. I wanted answers. And, more than all of that, I wanted an apology. I wanted someone to tell me that it was all their fault, that they made all of this happen, that they screwed up my life, and that they were oh, so sorry. Now, some part of me realized just how unrealistic this was, no matter how justified it might have been. So, after a while, I started trying to cover it up. I acted like I wasn't mad; I was over it. What's done is done, right? Just move on; you can't change the past. Eventually, I almost convinced myself that I was fine. But I wasn't. I was still just as angry and victimized as ever. I couldn't - or wouldn't -- forgive. And that kept me there, trapped. Until I could forgive, I could never move past anything.
Finally, sometime this summer, something just sort of "clicked." I don't know exactly when or where or why, but at some point, all those things that everyone kept telling me about moving on and just living my life free of all of that pain and hate and grudge-holding. I'm not sure it was really a moment in time; I just realized one day that all that hard work from all of those people who wouldn't let go no matter how miserable helping me was had really paid off. I wasn't mad anymore. I forgave Robyn and my dad and all those other people who didn't see or didn't help. And I didn't need an apology to do it. I forgave them, regardless of whether they asked for it or wanted it. Their acceptance or rejection of my forgiveness was irrelevant; I was free.
Then I reached what I genuinely thought was the last stage -- that of near apathy. Not a general, depressed apathy -- more like just no caring what happened to Robyn and not wanting a relationship with her. It wasn't that I wanted to avoid a relationship with her; I just didn't actively want one. To be completely honest, I don't there would have been anything wrong with staying here. Just happily not caring about that part of my past and moving on. This stage is what really allowed me to start focusing on myself and my problems. It's what allowed me to make all the progress that I've made with myself and all my baggage This was a really pivotal stage. It lasted from this summer until just a week or two ago.
I guess that brings us up the present. Laying in the bath that day, I wasn't even thinking about any of this. I wasn't thinking about anything important. But it just hit me: I cared. I cared about Robyn. Not in a familial way, or even as though she were a friend. In fact, I actually dislike her now. A lot. She's exactly the sort of person I most loath. I can't stand her. She's an angry, bitter, bigoted woman who prizes herself and her opinion above all else. She considers herself to be worth far more than anyone else. She thinks that the world owes her. She's a compulsive liar. She's dirty. She insults people constantly for no reason. She mooches off of everyone, even though she's usually the one with far more income and far less responsibility. She fits every criterion for people with whom I refuse to associate. Those aren't angry things I say to hurt someone; those are just the straight-up facts. But the thing is that, now, even though I recognize all those things, I actually care about her.
I don't care about her enough to want to be around her very much. I don't want a relationship with her. I'm not even changing my plan to discontinue my "relationship" with her when I turn seventeen. But I do care about her. I care about her just like I care about anyone else. I don't have a close relationship with everyone else, and I don't really care to have a relationship with a lot of people. But I do care about them. I want them to be happy. I try to make interactions with them positive and constructive. And that's how I feel about Robyn now. It hasn't really changed any of my plans. It just shows me how very, very far I've come. And that's pretty cool, in my book.
So epiphanies. They're weird.
Oh. So you're one of those people...
Those people?
Yeah. Those people that sit in the tub and think instead of just taking a quick shower and getting on with their lives.
Oh. Yeah. I'm those people.
Anyway. I was in the bath about a week and a half ago, and I was just thinking about random things ( I don't even remember what) when all of a sudden, a thought just struck me - I cared.
Huh? Alright, we're going to a little more back story for that to make any sense. Seriously.
Alright, let me back up.
So, if you know me at all, you'll know that I've had a lot of issues with my biological mother and that, over the past year and half or so, I've really been trying to get past all the abuse and resulting baggage I suffered at her hands. There's been several major stages through which I've gone on this journey; some of you have been here for the whole ride and know that it's been pretty crazy. For those of who haven't been here the whole time, I'll explain what those steps were, albeit in a much-abbreviated form.
The first step started immediately after my dad finally filed for divorce. It was kind of a "realization" stage. It wasn't a "denial" stage that I think a lot of kids go through after a divorce; in fact, I think it was kind of the opposite. It was a stage where I just realized that the constant physical battle of life and death wasn't an issue anymore. I didn't have to turn every corner wandering if there was a fist on the other side of it. I could change the volume on the radio without being thrown against a wall. I could play a game in my living room without someone trying to smother me with a pillow. I was physically safe. That wasn't a very traumatic transition, just a weird one. But it was definitely a very distinct phase I experienced. This probably lasted a couple of weeks - not very long.
The next phase went on for a really long time. Like, almost a year. Here's the thing: I was mad. I was hurt and angry and raging and confused and I wanted to make someone pay, mostly Robyn. I wanted answers. And, more than all of that, I wanted an apology. I wanted someone to tell me that it was all their fault, that they made all of this happen, that they screwed up my life, and that they were oh, so sorry. Now, some part of me realized just how unrealistic this was, no matter how justified it might have been. So, after a while, I started trying to cover it up. I acted like I wasn't mad; I was over it. What's done is done, right? Just move on; you can't change the past. Eventually, I almost convinced myself that I was fine. But I wasn't. I was still just as angry and victimized as ever. I couldn't - or wouldn't -- forgive. And that kept me there, trapped. Until I could forgive, I could never move past anything.
Finally, sometime this summer, something just sort of "clicked." I don't know exactly when or where or why, but at some point, all those things that everyone kept telling me about moving on and just living my life free of all of that pain and hate and grudge-holding. I'm not sure it was really a moment in time; I just realized one day that all that hard work from all of those people who wouldn't let go no matter how miserable helping me was had really paid off. I wasn't mad anymore. I forgave Robyn and my dad and all those other people who didn't see or didn't help. And I didn't need an apology to do it. I forgave them, regardless of whether they asked for it or wanted it. Their acceptance or rejection of my forgiveness was irrelevant; I was free.
Then I reached what I genuinely thought was the last stage -- that of near apathy. Not a general, depressed apathy -- more like just no caring what happened to Robyn and not wanting a relationship with her. It wasn't that I wanted to avoid a relationship with her; I just didn't actively want one. To be completely honest, I don't there would have been anything wrong with staying here. Just happily not caring about that part of my past and moving on. This stage is what really allowed me to start focusing on myself and my problems. It's what allowed me to make all the progress that I've made with myself and all my baggage This was a really pivotal stage. It lasted from this summer until just a week or two ago.
I guess that brings us up the present. Laying in the bath that day, I wasn't even thinking about any of this. I wasn't thinking about anything important. But it just hit me: I cared. I cared about Robyn. Not in a familial way, or even as though she were a friend. In fact, I actually dislike her now. A lot. She's exactly the sort of person I most loath. I can't stand her. She's an angry, bitter, bigoted woman who prizes herself and her opinion above all else. She considers herself to be worth far more than anyone else. She thinks that the world owes her. She's a compulsive liar. She's dirty. She insults people constantly for no reason. She mooches off of everyone, even though she's usually the one with far more income and far less responsibility. She fits every criterion for people with whom I refuse to associate. Those aren't angry things I say to hurt someone; those are just the straight-up facts. But the thing is that, now, even though I recognize all those things, I actually care about her.
I don't care about her enough to want to be around her very much. I don't want a relationship with her. I'm not even changing my plan to discontinue my "relationship" with her when I turn seventeen. But I do care about her. I care about her just like I care about anyone else. I don't have a close relationship with everyone else, and I don't really care to have a relationship with a lot of people. But I do care about them. I want them to be happy. I try to make interactions with them positive and constructive. And that's how I feel about Robyn now. It hasn't really changed any of my plans. It just shows me how very, very far I've come. And that's pretty cool, in my book.
So epiphanies. They're weird.
