It is a product of the world we live in that incites a person to label everything and everyone. You are never just Jane Doe from small-town Nowheresville, you Jane-who-did-this, or had-that-happen, and lets talk about how she did or didn’t deserve that thing happening to her in detail… like it’s our business…
As a society, we love to talk about each other. We love to compare ourselves to each other and we love to know we’re doing just that little bit better than someone else- not necessarily in a malicious way, but mostly for our own self esteem. We’re kinda shitty that way, but only ourselves ever know, so it’s ok…? Because as far as anyone else is concerned, we’re the best people ever! Kind, caring, compassionate, helpful… but we know the truth. We – who am I kidding- I am a narcissist. Me, like my parents before me. The proof in the pudding? I started a fucking blog. It’d almost comedic.
But back to our love of labels and pigeon holing- I fit a few boxes, me; incestual assault, molestation, physical assault, rape, gaslighting, plus a whole range of mother issues, PTSD, anxiety and depressive episodes. But I also classically fall into the “never goes to a GP with her problems” category, which is how I’ve simulaneously ended up with a dodgy shoulder, but thats besides the point.
My shortfalls are a flaw of my own character, which I have long since accepted- I am just choosing to try and change/develop them. My hope is by writing things down, I get them out of my head and into some sense of organisation. Something that maybe makes a bit more sense.
I have no agenda for this pattern of writing, and no plan. While I could’ve written this in a private note on my tablet, I feel like an obscure public forum is pretty much therapy anyway, isn’t it?