I M Perfect lady

Tag: forced

  • Wishing is a train out of Reality.

    Forceful kindness is a phrase I had used to describe how some may take your power, how they keep pushing kindness to make you believe or feel something…it isn't just kindness, it is kindness with an agenda.

    Kindness that is trying to change your mind.

    Kindness that runs over your feelings.

    Kindness that sounds one way but feels completely different.

    Kindness that wants something.

    Kindness with an abusive attitude, for it is trying too hard to convince you…it is kind.

    I have been given many aspects of my mother appearing and reappearing time and time again, showing me OR rather allowing me to see that which I thought was one thing, was literally the opposite, and I am getting wiser and catching the lessons, grabbing on to the falsehood and forced kindness in order for me to 'do something'.

    The manipulation and delivery sounds so nice, empathetic, understanding, with a 'reason' behind it.

    My latest delivery came in the form of "I am going to help you"…which actually boiled down to….I am helping myself.

    My boss said she was bringing in 'help' for me after a long Monday, by the time I was ready to bundle the mail and head out on Tuesday the help turned into a person who was there to make sure I didn't go into overtime for the week.  And since it appeared that my hours would balance out, all help was removed.

    The daily struggle on very heavy package days don't matter, unless it happens to be a Friday, and it looks like I am on the verge of overtime.

    What I told her is that don't pretend to 'help' me, when all you really are focused on is your spread sheet of hours.  I understand and I get it.  Your main job is to see that we don't go over hours.  You can't be empathetic or helpful, you have to manage hours.  Just say it.  Just be forthright and say it.  Don't call it 'helping me' when you are actually helping your self.

    I truly get it and accept, that the Post Office can't offer help, it has to watch its bottom line.  I am not upset about that.

    I am upset with the way my boss tried to sell me help, when it was really for herself.

    If someone is going to help you, it will feel like help.  It didn't feel like she was helping me, but helping herself and I told her so.

    She wanted to appear, helpful and empathetic, when the Post Office doesn't allow for it.  I wasn't going to appear helped when it didn't help me.

    I believed the first night she indeed could help me.  I was relieved.  I was disappointed on the second day, when she changed the type of help she could give me.  And in the passing hours felt the help totally disappear…and felt it, and expressed it quite expressively.

    Some may challenge me and say it was being insubordinate, but what I was actually doing was calling her on her false delivery.

    I told her, "For me, please don't say you are going to do something and then not do it, make promises you can't deliver or are even capable of doing.  Don't make it seem like you are going to help me, when you can't.  I would prefer you say Nothing UNTIL you can.  If it isn't possible, I get it.  Just call it saving overtime and not help."

    I am way okay with the reality of how things are.  I am way not okay with someone playing in front of them trying to make me believe that which isn't possible.

    I understood that I too wanted to believe in help that wasn't possible.

    I own my part, my believing and wanting it…so I grabbed on.

    We both took a day and a half ride on Make Belief….and in the end I was disappointed.

    I was disappointed I believed in that which wasn't possible…a train ride out of reality and I was let down.  Let down right where I started, overwhelmed with the work at hand….wishing for help.

    Wishing is a place that isn't reality…

    Wishing is what comprised my whole childhood.

    Wishing things were different…

    It took me a whole day to get back to acceptance.

    Accepting what is…accepting that I will be overwhelmed for the next two weeks, and that no help will be coming.  I am okay, once I get back to reality and let the wishing go…

    Wishing is a train out of reality.

     

     

     

     

  • I picked me.

    One of the side affects to being traumatized when you are little is that you can’t rely on anything, it seems that what we see can change at any time, so it leaves you standing on unsettled ground, nothing is for sure and not what you see.

     

    You wait for the change, on guard, but not ready, for you have no way to stop it or change it.  “Ready or not, here I come….”

     

    I awoke with the thought that I don’t trust people to remain the same; I am always waiting on a change, it is my sense of people that they swing hot and cold.

     

    Like a twisting knife, you never are sure what side they will present to you.

     

    The same sick nature was in me, I too never knew what was going to send me into a rage, what seemingly small item would be the last straw, what it took for me to lose control of me.

     

    The more I trust me, the more I gain control over me, the more I am able to calm me down, to respond in ways that match reality, the less the trauma affects have me.

     

    Not trusting others is only half of the affect, not trusting that you can exit that you have a choice to no longer be with a twisting person, leaves you stuck.

     

    So not only are you playing roulette, you can’t duck.

     

    When I learned I didn’t have to be with people who are so confused, so out of control, I was free.

     

    To be free to move and duck to play or not play opens up a whole new world.

     

    I love that changes will still come, but that I don’t have to entertain them.

     

    I select my response to all changes.  I decide how I will respond, it isn’t pre-programmed, and when change comes I get to decide what to do, it isn’t forced upon me.

     

    Being forced to weather changes.

     

    Forced to withstand what ever is assaulted upon you.

     

    Leaves you a prisoner in your own life.

     

    Where you and the jailer are one.

     

    I used to pray and hope and that others would change so I could feel better, yet I never prayed for me to change, not once did I see it was me!

     

    I was the one who allowed her self to be forced; it started as a child and became a way of life.

     

    A forceful way of life.

     

    Forced to be where you don't want to be.

     

    Until I was forced to choose them or me.

     

    Forced to pick one life.

     

    I picked me.