Lies for Honest People

So I was really depressed last night. In a fit of annoyance and ennui (ha ha, I know how to pronounce that word, do you?), I finally opened a Word document (I hate the new subscription model, but for some reason, shelling out $$ for the actual program makes my metaphorical toes curl–my actual toes do not curl in response to the price), and I started the old CBT shebang.

First, I wrote down that I was sad about yadda yadda. I started tackling All or Nothing Thinking, but something told me I wasn’t addressing the real problem, so I asked myself, why? About the sadness topic. And the answer was, Because I will make my mom sad, and my dad mad, and my one brother jealous.

Then, and this was the fun part, I questioned that. I asked myself, can I actually make other people feel things? On purpose? By my actions? And, I have been particularly on top of trying to do just that lately, within my awesome new boundaries, and it Just. Doesn’t. Work. At least, for me. Maybe I’m trying too hard, or I don’t lie enough. Or I’m bad at crocodile tears. Whatever.

Anyway, the point is that I know for sure that I don’t know how to make other people feel things. So when I said to myself that I would make all these three abusers sad, I suddenly had an epiphany.

I’m a trained actor, see, and I saw for the first time that my family of origin, my abuser network, they were all participating in a years-long acting exercise, except evil. They all worked together to lie to me, to convince me that I really did control their emotions. It was like a how-close-to-suicide-can-we-press-Victor-and-still-get-him-to-do-the-dishes game.

For serious.

And now I feel a lot better.

Here’s to hoping your writing is going well.

Loves and puppy kisses,

Victor.

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