Yes Man

Yes Man

 

Funny film, but not what this post is about.

I have been thinking about the replies I got to my post about Blame.

See here.

Thank you to the wonderful people who left them. I had expected people to say it wasn’t the child’s fault. Of course, anyone would say that right? Even me.

But I looked at what each person had said and tried to see it how they did. Of the biggest fingers that are pointing to blame, there is one that says, I never said no. I chose to go to my father or whoever my mother thought I should.

I have to ask myself why? Was it for love? Its part of it, I am sure. But also, there is rejection and that is one of my biggest fears.

I have to look at many sides of this and they all come down to that same thing. Rejection.

I was trained to never say no. If I said no I was going to be rejected. But, I wonder if it could be that simple. I see it in my actions now. I am talking to someone in a Facebook chat, but I’m dying to go to bed, or to go off and write, but I don’t. I’m afraid to say, I’ve got to go. It feels like saying no to them. I am telling them they cannot have my time right now and this will make them not want to talk to me later. This is my logic- it’s inbuilt.

I think back to the days when I was taking drugs. I took more and more. I played around. I tested. I did not fear death. I also didn’t want to say no. I might lose my friends if I wasn’t jabbing a needle in my arm and being that person they wanted.

When I was into that life, people wanted me around. I was the guy with the bike, the drugs, the money and women. I didn’t care. When I was a person I thought they wanted me to be, they wouldn’t reject me.

I see it in relationships too. I was a terrible cheat, never faithful to anyone. I look at why I was. I didn’t really care for half the women. Some, I couldn’t tell you their names.

So, why did I go ahead and get intimate with them?

Fear. Fear that if I didn’t give myself over, in one way or another, I would get rejected.

I see this ‘yes-man’ in so many things and in so many times when I have been hurt.

The Yes-Man was at the helm.

I wonder if that is the reason I never said no to my parents.

Perhaps the times I chose to go to my father willingly, it wasn’t that it was my choice outright. Maybe I was being who he wanted me to be so I didn’t get rejected.

My father trained me to give myself physically and mentally in order to hold onto people.

He created Yes-man.

Sleep and Anger

Sleep and Anger.

This will be one of those posts that isn’t really about anything. Nothing more than getting the crap out of my head after an awful night. 

I’m angry. Im not angry at anyone but it’s making me angry at everyone. Anyone that dares speak to me today is likely to get the head bitten off. I’m sure that I’ll be full of apologies later, but there’s all this anger inside and nowhere for it to go, so it’s going here, via my insane ramblings because it’s all I have.

And I’m tired. I just want one night where I sleep. One might where I’m not afraid. Not even 10 minutes last night and I was startled awake by the stupid crap that goes around in my head. Then it was a night of terror. I have no one to get mad at for it. No one to shout and yell and ask why the hell I have this. Why did this have to be my life and what I got?

I wish he’d go away. I wish the bad man would leave me alone. I’m tired and I’m done with him. I don’t want him here anymore, but there’s no way out. No way to stop it once it goes dark.

Sometimes I think it would have been better if they’d have just took it that step to far. Put me out of my misery at the time. It would be better than this.

All I see is faces. His face. I feel his hands. I see others. Tables. Children. Trees and darkness. A million memories I can’t quite reach. They feel like a movie in my head that I can’t get rid of.

I’m bound to everything.
Bound in silence.
Bound here.
Bound in memories.
Bound to tables.
Bound in darkness.
Bound while they watched.
Bound while my mother laughed at what was happening to me.
Bound to everything.

I wish my mother were here. I wish there was a way I could take all this out of me and give it back to her. I wish I could show her what she’s done.

I can’t even show my father because I see him and he shows me how it’s my fault and it makes me feel bad about it.

There’s no where for it to go and I’m not going to self harm today.

I’m not.

I won’t cut it away. So I’m writing here and trying to make it disappear, but all I feel is anger.