Confession: I have feelings.
I have an idealized self- my super ego. It screams, "be the good girl. Don't cause waves. Rise above it. Find the higher truth in every situation. No one is to blame. There are no victims. We are all just unconscious messes and we all mess up, including me so don't point any fingers for when one finger is pointing at another three fingers are pointing back at you. Be fair. Be kind. Be compassionate. Be like Jesus-"Forgive them father, for they do not know."
I am so tired of being the good girl. I am so tired of needing to rise above it and find the larger meaning of it.
I want to be allowed --- I want to just allow myself to feel the fucking feelings.
I don't want to have to be so perfect and contained. I don't want to be rewarded for how graceful and mature I am in handling things.
My therapist abused his power—broke a sacred contract and took advantage where he shouldn't have. I was accused by people of needing to be special and of co-creating my abuse by being a seductive woman. And I believed them. Partly because it was true. I needed to be special and I used seduction to be special. In that way I co-created. I was told he is just a wounded soul who just lost his way and we should find compassion for him. That we should pray for him.
Because of all of this I felt undeserving of holding anyone but myself accountable.
Recently, I spoke to a colleague and asked him what his thoughts were about Me too. He said, "its so hard to be a straight white guy. We get banished. People scapegoat heterosexual men." I am sure there is a truth in that too. But sweet baby Jesus take some fucking responsibility.
There is rupture and there is repair. I can forgive rupture. But when there is a total lack of effort to repair, to have the willingness and integrity to stand up and say, "I did this. I acknowledge this. I take responsibility for this. I pledge to do my work to understand it- I cannot forgive. I will not forgive.
I have been called lady justice—told that I have an insufferable need for justice. I have been told that I should stay in my lane and focus on the injustices done by my own hands. True.
But what do I do with all this anger? What do I do with these feelings of betrayal? What do I do with the rage I feel when people don't take responsibility for hurting me?
Why don't I let myself—my feelings—my wounded spirit- count? Why do I feel so ashamed and weak for acknowledging, 'ouch, that actually hurt when you did that to me?' I didn't like that. Why can't I find that warrior in me that with the gravest of looks say, "don't you ever do that to me again."
A friend of mine told me once, "you know Aimee, sometimes there is actually a victim." Why won't I let myself be a victim of someone's actions? Why do I fixate on that being a shirking of my responsibility?
I feel so weak and vulnerable admitting how much his actions hurt me. I feel exposed and afraid – waiting for everyone to tell me to get over it or that I co-created it or that we should feel badly for him.
I am doing my work to understand my part. I am doing my work to see my lower self and what I was up to. I am genuinely trying.
But I've got to let myself feel the feelings. The raw, primal feelings that come from being violated—not just in the rupture--- but more –even more in the lack of repair.
I am angry that you disappeared and took no responsibility. I am angry that you made yourself the victim. I am angry that you still lie. I am angry that you confused others with your incredible ability to confuse—to seduce. I am angry at you.
Unfortunately I am not my idealized self.---not entirely. I can see the larger truth. I can hold space for it. I can have compassion for myself and for him. I can see that something was playing itself had that had to. In this way, my idealized self—is my true self. But I am not the idealized self that has no feelings—I am not as graceful as people think I am.
I have rage, I can be hurt, I have been hurt. And it hurts. I still hurt from it. And there is a wish in me that those who have hurt me would say I am sorry--- and not just in words—but in actions I can see and feel. I want to know they get it—and that they really feel remorse. That they didn't mean it. That they want to make up for it.
This is a secret I don't share with anyone. Until now.