Monday, February 02, 2015

Laying the groundwork


It seems like going over how I disconnected from my body, and why, is integral to writing about reconnecting, but I am finding it difficult. The initial circumstances weren't pleasant, but also so much of it is wrong and stupid.

Okay, some girls circled me on the playground and marveled over how fat I was - I know I am not the only person to have experienced this. I'm probably not even the only person at that school; I only remember Suzy picking on me once, and it would be kind of weird if that was her only foray into bullying. It affected me deeply though, and possibly abnormally.

I accepted their judgment of me completely. It feels necessary to figure out why I did that, but also it feels really self-indulgent like I am wallowing in the pity of being poor me, and I hate that. Bear with me.

I think there are a few things that worked together, and some of them are even things that I have written about recently, though I was not at the time aware that they would relate to this, but it all works together.

For example, I wrote about being discouraged from crying on December 22nd. I wrote that because the song countdown gave me a reason to remember the different incidents, and the song countdown felt like a reasonable thing to do. As I was doing that the natural progression felt like I should be going through old photos next, and I vaguely felt that it would be related to my self-image, but now it hits me that it is at least partially about looking at what I refused to look at.

So some of the roads I take may be annoying, but they all feel necessary based on my inner compass.

One thing I have written about before is my tendency to be a people pleaser and how that is related to a sense of shame. I can look back and see possible reasons that was my tendency, but I am not really sure. I have four siblings. We were all raised in the same house and same way, but they all have different issues and coping mechanisms. Is shame more common for the middle child? I have no idea.

It was impossible to be good enough for my father, but we all had that. There was a persistent sense that we did not fit in at church when we moved here, but we all had that. The only thing I can really see as possibly unique to me is that I did not socialize well, even before we moved. I was younger than most of the kids in the old neighborhood - not by a lot, but when you are young a year or two can make a big difference. The one girl who was my age was really bossy and not a lot of fun. I did spend time with the other kids, but I spent a lot of time by myself too. I have been told I had an imaginary friend, but I don't remember it.

I suspect that the early crying suppression, which I heard not just as "Don't cry" but as "Your feelings do not matter to us" may have increased my feeling that there was something wrong with me.

Based on that, it seems possible that the reason the playground incident had the impact it did was that I had known there was something wrong with me and suddenly it was like "That's it!" It was because I was fat. That was why people just wanted me to shut up if I was sad, and a boy who was my friend wouldn't want me to like him, and it was okay to be mean to me.

It finally all made sense.

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