On Doormatting

 

I am tired of being a doormat.
There, I said it.

Saying it is only step one, though.
Step two is actually doing something about it.

I posted a quote just now on Facebook,
one of the Optimism Revolution page’s,
"What you allow, is what will continue."
Life is too short, or too long, to be a fucking doormat.

And I’m done.

I’m done dealing with all the extra stress.
I’m over being bullied.
I’m done with it all.

 

All my life, I’ve been bullied by someone or another….
in many of the relationships (platonic or otherwise) I’ve been involved in.
I do what people tell me to do because it’s easier than battling it out.
It seems trivial to wage verbal wars on who is supposed to do what.
I’m empathetic and sympathetic to others,
even if they are manipulators and liars (which is usually the case).
Guilt works well enough on me, enough so that I habitually take on more than my share,
go out of my way, bend over backwards, and etc.
 

I do most of this because, whenever I can, I like to avoid confrontation.
Anger is an emotion that scares the shit out of me.
Maybe it’s because I grew up in a home where it was often suppressed, but when things blew up,
they BLEW UP into a terrifying explosion of emotion-vomit, verbal shrapnel flying everywhere.
I don’t know, and I suppose it doesn’t really matter.

My physical reaction to verbal (or physical, I guess) confrontation is absolutely ridiculous.
My heart starts beating very rapidly, my throat starts to close up, my blood rushes in my ears —
all of it adrenaline, adrenaline, adrenaline —
and I HATE HATE HATE that feeling.
I start feeling panicky and afraid and so I just cave in order to make everything stop.
My hands can then stop trembling, and my voice won’t stutter or tremble. I won’t have to look like a spineless fool.

 

But I am. Spineless.

 

Recently there has been a sexual harassment scandal at work.
I wasn’t involved, but still.
My mother seems to think I wasn’t targeted because I’d stand up for myself right away.
That’s where she’s wrong.

When faced with a situation that is both unexpected and uncomfortable, normal people have two options: fight or flight.
I do neither.

I freeze.

It’s evident in innocuous ways, such as the way I respond to unexpected encounters with Dustin’s mother;
or more threatening situations, such as the Dan situation in the 10th grade, which, to this day, still makes my gut feel sick.
I just…freeze. Do nothing. It’s like my supposedly-intelligent brain gets encased in a block of ice, and everything in me slows down to the speed of molasses. Can’t think. Can’t speak. Can’t move. Dumb and deaf and silent.

I hate that about myself.
But I’m not entirely sure how to change it, other than keep putting myself in uncomfortable situations (of an innocuous nature, of course).
But seeing as how I’m about ready to shoot myself the next time something unexpected comes up this year, I don’t think I can handle much more.
I just can’t anymore.

I freeze, and then I lay down like a stupid doormat.
I wanted to type "BECAUSE I AM ONE"; but Self-Esteem One Oh One nudges me to remember that I am Not My Feelings.

Sigh.

 

I just. Don’t know what to do anymore, I guess.
I can’t keep freezing, or doormatting, or trying-to-slip-out-undetected-ing.

I’m not sure if it’s a self-esteem issue, a stemming-from-childhood issue, or something else entirely.

 

i’m just going to crawl under a rock now.