So, many would say ‘if so many people don’t like you the problem MUST be you’.

I always thought like this too. Now I know it is complete bullshit.

Would I say to someone who grew up in an abusive environment and dated a string of bad guys and being f*cked over by shitty friends ‘well it must be you’. No, I’d probably recognise maybe, just maybe, her low self worth made her tolerate unkind people and when she finally stuck up for herself, people didn’t like it. I also see the obvious need to validation when people who don’t like a person team together to indulge in each other’s misconceptions (that’s being fair, often it’s lies).

I have exhausted myself in so many instances trying to make something my fault. I’m tired of it, but I find it so easy to sincerely apologise and try to get harmony but there are so many times it isn’t my fault. Yesterday was the last time I’m apologising for something that wasn’t true just to avoid escalation. Fuck that noise.

So a few years ago I had a fall out with a family member. I loved her (still do), but I reached my limit. She was overbearing, nosy, patronising, rude. So many times I heard her gossip and i’d ask ‘do you know that person?’ .. to which she said ‘no’. I said ‘have you ever met them?’. Again, no. So why the actual F are you talking about them?

My mother had a lots of faults growing up but she always told me if you’re not willing to say it to a person’s face, don’t say it. I genuinely hate conflict. It makes me (more) unwell. But I cannot stand dishonesty or injustice. I don’t know if that’s because of what I endured as a child, but I can’t stand it. I think that’s also why I find it easy to apologise when I owe and apology. I find it’s like coming up for air. Knowing that you have owned your shit and maybe it means something to someone to acknowledge you were wrong and you respect and value them and want to apologise.

So this person my whole life has just rubbed me the wrong way. at 32 I reached my limit. I’ve exceeded my limit in life a long time ago and I genuinely struggle to trust people and my confidence isn’t really thriving.

For two years I kept a dignified silence as my parents still went on holiday with her. However her son told me if he was caught speaking to me she’d be very angry with him. Her son who had been at my house upset multiple times.

Yesterday my stepdad asked me to go to a ‘family’ meeting with the person. She walked in smirking and rolling her eyes and went to hug me. Respectfully I said ‘no, i’m not there yet’. I am a hugger. I huge strangers (if they’re ok with it). I’ve only denied 3 hugs in my life. From people who have either abused me mentally or physically. I’m a sincere hugger. I hoped that yesterday would end in hugs.

It didn’t.

So I was constantly thinking of my parent’s stress levels and I have worked really hard on keeping my temper under wraps. It’s not easy. Yesterday she said that her husband doesn’t like me. I said ‘I don’t particularly like or respect him either’. She asked why. I told her why. I told her one of many reasons. (one would be cruel to bring up, and although true, I’m not that person). I didn’t tell her to hurt her. If I wanted to hurt her i’d have others things to say. That was not my intention at all. I told her the fact he ran off with everyone’s money was a factor.

She said ‘You Bitch’.

Old me would have jumped up from my seat. Not to hit her, God no. Gross. But i’d have stood up after she stood over me and looked in her face.

I didn’t. I sat there. I took a deep breath and said ‘Tell me one reason i’m that’.

She couldn’t.

I hadn’t said anything nasty. Or untrue. She asked a question, I answered it.

My parents said she would never own anything, but naively I really hoped there was a decent side that would. Had I known it would be so awful I’d have respectfully said ‘no’. But I wanted to do it for my parents. I wanted peace.

The names she threw at me were literally deflection. People overuse that term but my friend pointed out it was as if she was describing herself.

I asked her if she thought it was ok that her and her friends mocked my mental illness. She didn’t have an answer for that. Not an apology. Just a smirk. This woman smirked as I cried. I’ve seen the coldness from people before. An ex boyfriend and other family members I cut ties with years ago.

She threw in my face that I was abused as a child. During that occasion I had apologised twice. For two trivial things. One being that I confused a weed for a clematis. Long story. One of which I knew she was lying, or genuinely didn’t remember. But I said i’m sorry. Twice. She didn’t apologise once for some of the most awful shit. For telling me ‘I told my friends about your panic on the underground during the evacuation and oh how we howled’. For years I heard from her, her daughter and another family member how much they ‘howled’ at this traumatic experience. During the evacuation her daughter turned around and shouted at me to run. I know not to run in an emergency. I told my mum to walk faster. I had a panic attack before the evacuation because having been in London so much as a teenager I knew something was up that day. Turned out I was right. No apologies. Just laughing. I voiced that I didn’t find it funny, that they know I wasn’t well and that it upsets me. Did they care? Did they f*ck.

Yesterday when I brought this up she sat there quiet all of a sudden. Then threw in my face about me being abused as a child. Vile. But I didn’t bite. I said ‘how does that negate what shitty things you have done’?

My parents saw first hand the vitriol. After they told me they’re so proud of me for remaining dignified. They saw me sit there after having ‘you bitch’ screamed in my face by a woman standing over me. Yet when welcomed to tell me why I am one, she couldn’t. Other names she called me, I said ‘ok, explain to me how I am that’. She couldn’t.

That is growth on my part and i’m f*cking proud of that. I’m not a walkover, but I am not as reactionary as I used to be. To see someone smirk, roll their eyes and laugh as you’re crying is soul destroying. Not for them, I haven’t seen evidence of a soul to be quite honest at this point. Other than they share every time they so much as donate a penny to charity, Heaven forbid you do something good without letting everyone know. I remember once she said ‘that’s my good deed for the day’. You keep count? That’s odd.

She did a charity fundraiser and got offended I asked which charity it was. Sorry, is it just a blanket term? I genuinely like to learn about charities and check them out. I was like ‘cool. What is the charity?’ and she looked horrified.

Horrified.

As if it was an attack. Utterly bizarre. I usually tell people about a charity first and then ask for donations. I know not everyone is the same. But somehow, in this fucking family, me genuinely interested in the charity is an insult? Of course I was going to donate, I said ‘yeah i’ll donate’. But then dared to ask about the charity. Fuck me, I can’t deal with this level of absurdity.

I hesitate to use the word gaslighting, again you hear it so much, but in this family the gaslighting is unreal.

At 17 my sibling found out from my mother that I was on anti depressants. Sibling later said ‘so when she going to hang herself?’. Because that’s funny isn’t it? Vile.

I have worked so hard to find peace and get along, to the point i’ve lost so much self respect, but I crave honesty, peace, decency, integrity.

There’s a lot of damaged people and I can’t save them. I learned in therapy to stop making excuses for their bad behaviour. I endured Hell and I didn’t turn out cruel, bitter, uncaring. I’m caring to the point I’ve had to have professional help coping with dealing with other people’s sadness.

I read a blog post of someone I used to be friends with birth story and cried. I wanted to hug her. I had tears down my face and didn’t even realise I was crying. This is someone who hurt me a lot, but I was no saint. I was heartbroken but I also could be a dick. Which I have no problem admitting.

I wanted to forget the woman who called me a bitch existed years ago but I had to hear her name or risk bumping into her for 2 years. I guess silver lining is that that is no longer an issue. I feel so sad for my parents though. I kept asking ‘don’t let me give you an ultimatum.’ They made it clear their choice is they cannot associate with that person anymore. I don’t feel victorious. I feel so f*cking sad. I hate it. I cannot stand people who can’t own their shit. Who can look at another human crying and their hands shaking from anxiety and frustration and smirk in their face. I’ve encountered a few of these people (most I’m related to). I will never understand it.

I’m such a forgiving person. In emotional support the counsellor said she was shocked the extent i’ll forgive even the worst of people if they were sincerely apologising and crying. I couldn’t not. I’d want to forget them but I’d forgive. She was shocked by that. Her shock confused me. I went home so confused.

I will admit after 40 minutes of being laughed at, smirked at, ridiculed, having the fact I was abused as a little girl thrown in my face, as she stormed out because my stepdad pointed out the truth she called me a ‘stupid fucking cow’. To which I shouted ‘fuck off you nosy bitch. Get the fuck out’.

I am not proud of this. I’ve beaten myself up all night. Sleep wasn’t on the cards for me last night. My friends, who have no problem calling me out when i’m a dickhead, said she’s disgusting and the fact I didn’t say something like that sooner shows I have decency. But I wish I didn’t say it.

Yes she is so nosy she looked on someone’s facebook to see what inside their house looked like. She’s so nosy she gossips, often about people she doesn’t even know (how about don’t gossip at all?! I’m guilty of it on occasion i’m sure, but I check myself real quick and tell myself to shut the f*ck up. This person is a huge gossip and it’s grotesque).

She implied my siblings and I were the reason my mother had a stroke. I am estranged from my siblings. One of them for over 10 years. But there was no way I was letting her blame any of us. My mum drank too much, and smoked a lot. I’m not saying that caused it. I’m sure family stress didn’t help and the fact her kids didn’t get along didn’t help, but fuck that. My mum, I adore. I am so close to her nowadays but she could be harsh growing up. I understand why my siblings have resentments but I also think they aren’t innocent. To imply we caused the stroke? C*NT.

So now she’d thrown in the childhood trauma when she was as my stepdad said ‘backed into a corner’. She threw names at me, to which I gave her the opportunity to justify each insult, she couldn’t. Then she went even lower and I sat. I sat there and took it. So yes, after all of that and her shouting ‘stupid cow’ as she walked out I lost my cool (and class) and swore back at her. I’ll beat myself up for that. But i’m far from perfect and never claim or even aim to be. I’ll continue to self reflect and grow. I’ll continue to learn from my mistakes. To own my sh*t. To ‘speak the truth even if [my] voice shakes’. I’m proud I didn’t go low and didn’t tell her things that could cause her a lot of pain. Even if it was the truth, it wouldn’t be kind. It would be cruel.

So today I feel like I have a bad hangover. I think of the saying ‘no wonder you can’t sleep at night’, but some of us can’t sleep even with a clean conscience because we feel pain so deep, and are so exhausted and question whether we will ever feel ok in the world. Keeping your sanity after childhood abuse and growing up around liars and manipulators, it’s not f*cking easy. It’s aged me no end. I have bald patches on my head. I look 20 years older than I am. My weight is the highest it’s ever been. It’s horrible, but maybe, not maybe, I can heal without being reminded of assholes I unfortunately share DNA with.

Yet I know I’m gonna feel sad. It’s heavy. I hate it. I don’t understand why people can’t admit when they’re wrong. Even laughing at someone’s mental illness, won’t even apologise for that at the bare minimum.

It was thrown in my face that I didn’t see my nan much growing up. I admitted I didn’t feel comfortable because my big brother would say ‘I’m telling Nan’. ‘I’m going to Nan’s and telling’, ‘I’m telling nan you’re spoiled’.

But who cared for my nan towards the end of her life? Me. Who gave her a bell to ring in the middle of the night if she needed the toilet? ME! Who handled her death so badly they had to sleep with the light and TV on and have their boyfriend sleep in their room (poor guy) because they kept hearing the bell ring in their head every night? Me. I told my nan why I found it hard to visit her when I was younger. Every time I went to see her I had to take a present. I felt like she was everyone else’s grandparent and not mine. It was horrible. To feel you’re less loved. Less worthy of being there. But I told my nan all this before she passed. Her last words to me were ‘take care of yourself.’ So i’m going to take her advice.

When you have a huge conscience, pure intentions and a big heart it’s not easy to just think ‘whatevs’. You constantly go over in your mind ‘Could this be me?’. You think of every objective point of view. You kind of want it to be your fault so you can apologise. I’m tired of clutching at straws. I’m tired of tormenting myself because ‘surely the problem must be me’. I know it isn’t. I know each individual person I could stand face to face, have a discussion without name calling, without being mean, just being heartfelt and honest. I know that. To my core. But collectively in a small town when they know each other, it’s suffocating. If I was financially able to move myself and my parents away I would (I’ve spoken to them about this before. Would they like to move). My heart hurts so bad. (yes, partly maybe because i’m obese. I feel I have to get that in there incase someone from my past stumbles on this and wants to make that jab, There, I did it for you).

Sometimes I feel i’m begging for people to be reasonable. To not lie. To not twist things. To keep it real. To be rational. Dealing with irrational people can make you so unwell, especially when you have scars already. I admit I get so upset I vomit. I rip myself apart. I am harder on myself than anyone. My loved ones have cried and begged me to stop doing this. They’ve assured me when i’m not in the wrong. They’ve been patient when I asked repeatedly ‘are you sure? are you sure?’.

Enough. Fuck anyone who can’t handle that they have done shitty things. Who cannot bring themselves to self reflect or apologise. Who aren’t caring and can look at someone sobbing and smirk or roll their eyes. Cruel. So fucking cruel. Look at someone who is so f*cking humble, that they have owned their own shit repeatedly.

My friend said

‘ You have the courage to call people out on their shit, and the humility to admit when you’re wrong. Shitty people cannot stand that’.

I don’t want my friends to feel the need to constantly reassure me, I don’t seek validation other than the occasional ‘am I being a dick here?’. Sometimes the answer is ‘yeah, pretty much’. Not often but there have been times I’ve been a bellend. Usually I don’t need to be told it, I am pretty self aware. But there’s the rare occasion I get so caught up in my feelings I need to chill the F out and be reminded. I am so grateful for that. I’ll never surround myself with ‘yes’ people!

I don’t have great self esteem. I sometimes wonder if I ever will. I’m going back for more therapy. I think i’m so damaged from so much I’m a mess. I don’t want to be an ’emotional mess’ anymore as people have called me (whilst smiling at me crying).

One of my girl friends told me she loves me and that made me cry. It was sincere. I could tell. She’ll never know how much that means to me. I told her but she won’t know the depths that made me feel less like I can’t face the world.

I wish people self esteem high enough to admit when they’re wrong.

Looking back I remember a message a reply I received from somebody and I was a little upset they seemed cold, but I need to acknowledge they said ‘sorry if I did that’ and ‘i’m not the same person I was’. I wish I let them know how much that meant and how much I respected them for that. Sure I felt it was cold, the rest of it, but high five for being cooler than most. I also am sorry for any pain I ever caused her. For being a gobshite (not sure if that is the word?). I’ve always hated conflict, never went looking for it, but I also never walked away. Now I often walk away. I know when I was a kid I could be a lot when I was reactionary and I didn’t have the grace to walk away or ignore it. I’m trying to go through life with more grace. I won’t say class, I still swear far too much. I hate it. I’m working on it.

For now though…

Fuck you P. Fuck you.