Bravado Babe
I'm simultaneously excited and not excited to write this post. Why? Because I'm afraid of it, and afraid of you knowing it, afraid of what it means about me and how you'll see me. If you've spent any time with me, this might be really apparent or come as a surprise (most likely the latter). But I'm also a bull-by-the-horns kind of girl and when I'm afraid of something, I'm also excited to conquer it. So here goes.
You see, I'm a bravado babe. Being a foxy little spitfire, while accurate to my personality, is also a defense mechanism. Even after all this time, and with all my campaigning for my own worthiness and power and femininity, I still frequently find myself in a space in my mind where my self-esteem is oh-so-small and I look doe-eyed to the people around me for comfort and validation. It's one of those few things I still have hidden.
There's a running commentary and set of assumptions that often come to a petite lady with a certain look and demeanor.
In the gambit of commentary I've received to my face:
Dating is so easy for you, guys eat that stuff up.
You're such a flirt.
Give everybody else a chance.
I honestly don't even care to go on, because I find it depressing. There's this assumption of who I am, romantically and sexually, based on my looks. You know what else is so fun? Ongoing shaming for your sexual activity by the men who did that stuff with you (If anyone can figure out the logic behind calling a girl you slept with a slut, by all means let me in on the secret because it seems awfully hypocritical to me).
Let's be honest, how many labels or judgements came to your mind when you read that last bit? I'm not just talking about stupid things like slutty or whore or other such distinctly judgemental statements. Did you pity me? Did you think Oh, that's so sad, the poor thing? Did you take a moment to think about how I could have handled it better or to wonder if I got it all resolved? Did you think I was crazy or had issues?
Maybe I'm paranoid to think you might have thought those things. Or maybe I'm not as paranoid as you think. Consider carefully what your emotional and mental response was. And on that note, I challenge anyone to handle what I've handled with half the grace I have, or half the commitment to healing and using those experiences toward altruism. When someone walks into your life having those experiences, who would you trust and turn to to help them? Are you like the people who know me best and respect me well - do you call me up?
I'd like to talk a little bit more about emotional abuse. I'd like to talk about the kind of long term effects of being treated in a way that invalidates your belief system about yourself, your esteem for yourself, you sense of security and well-being, that calls you out on your tiniest of mistakes and magnifies them and focuses you on your difficulties. Self-hate becomes a habit when you are surrounded by people who are self-hating and by extent, hateful to you. When you enter a relationship with someone who is self-hating and other-hating, and that relationship takes on a physical element (consensual or non-consensual), that energy takes a place in your heart and it can rot it. Being in an emotionally abusive relationship is like slowly rotting from the inside out. You feel dirty and broken on the inside, even when a part of you knows its untrue, and you will likely always be vulnerable to that feeling when someone tries to take advantage of you in any way.
In my recovery from abuse, but specifically emotional abuse, when someone would come along and be abusive again, I wouldn't know what else to do but let them. I'm not stupid. That's not why this happens. It's because I spent a huge amount of time being yelled at and called names for being disloyal and cruel, having cutting words whispered in my ear of how little value I had because I couldn't hold it together in some way or another, or being called out on my emotional and mental issues with little to no empathy or regard for how having those things doesn't make me crazy or of less value than others without those issues.
I've held onto enough friends while they cried to know that this is not an isolated problem, or something that happens to weak people. Dear nice people: we may be a little broken at times, but we're tired of being treated with kid gloves or as if we're fragile. We're not. We don't wish our circumstances on you, but we don't think that anyone that judges our reactions would do as well. By all means, exercise compassion, but there's a fine line between kindness and pity.
Moving on to how this all relates to being a bravado babe. When you're a bravado babe, there will always be people who shoot arrows. You get so used to wearing armor that eventually, you stop taking it off.
For me, I figured the best way to handle it would be to be exactly what they expected of me in public and then go about my life in private. You see, I'm not really a player, I'm not really a flirt or super social or popular or cool. Now don't start thinking that I don't like myself now, I really like myself quite a lot. I do seem to have a peculiar effect on people which can sometimes be really enjoyable and I like pushing people beyond their boundaries a little bit and being silly. But that's not what I'm talking about here.
If you see me in public, especially in the context of being around men my age, you'll probably notice that I seem amiable but distant, flirtatious and friendly but with a tendency to disappear from the scene quickly. I'll rapidly switch from warm to cold, I feel like everyone is watching and it makes me incredibly nervous, like I'm a performance artist in my own life.
I am aware that it's really not that big of a deal. But for those of us who have literally had that scrutiny repeatedly vocalized to us, it's hard to quit. Emotional abuse leaves some pretty serious scarring. Scar tissue is unique in a few ways. It's tougher and less flexible than other tissues. It doesn't stretch and bend as easily, and the places that healed over just need more time. Those of us with scar tissue will probably always be able to see it and feel it, even when it's healed up. I don't think about my scar tissue necessarily, not consciously anymore, but it affects the way I can move about my life emotionally. It affects most the areas from whence it originally came, even when the source is not the same.
So, no. I'm really not always that confident with things, but I'm getting better. Mostly it would be nice if people stopped expecting me to have any relationship experience like that of my peers. Honestly, I'm a yogic weirdo who takes the back door in relationships. I'm not cool as a cucumber, I'm awkward and I don't mind other people stepping outside of their comfort zones (I think it's funny), I'm super sincere and I wear my heart on my sleeve at all times. That phrase gets a lot of credit for being a good thing, I think, but you'll also know exactly when I'm pissed (hahahaha.... hence being such a spitfire, it's a side effect of intense honesty. Literally ask anyone that has known me for anything longer than six months. No one has ever had to guess if I was mad. I just am).
I'm not some suave person, I'm just a funny girl who tries not to let the legacy of emotional abuse affect the way I interact with people, especially the rare people who really interest me romantically, and mostly I fail at it all the time. And that's mostly fine with me, if a bit embarrassing and confusing most of the time. I've kept pretty silent about this issue, but it's time to just end the silence. Silence never helped anything for me.
I am sorry for the ways my dysfunction has hurt others, and I take absolute accountability for that. I'm a little bit of a living dichotomy, and a lot bit complicated and quite magical, and I'm okay with it. I struggle just like anyone else does, I just believe in being really, really honest. I think it helps everyone.
Love and Admiration,
Shareeta
You see, I'm a bravado babe. Being a foxy little spitfire, while accurate to my personality, is also a defense mechanism. Even after all this time, and with all my campaigning for my own worthiness and power and femininity, I still frequently find myself in a space in my mind where my self-esteem is oh-so-small and I look doe-eyed to the people around me for comfort and validation. It's one of those few things I still have hidden.
There's a running commentary and set of assumptions that often come to a petite lady with a certain look and demeanor.
In the gambit of commentary I've received to my face:
Dating is so easy for you, guys eat that stuff up.
You're such a flirt.
Give everybody else a chance.
I honestly don't even care to go on, because I find it depressing. There's this assumption of who I am, romantically and sexually, based on my looks. You know what else is so fun? Ongoing shaming for your sexual activity by the men who did that stuff with you (If anyone can figure out the logic behind calling a girl you slept with a slut, by all means let me in on the secret because it seems awfully hypocritical to me).
Let's be honest, how many labels or judgements came to your mind when you read that last bit? I'm not just talking about stupid things like slutty or whore or other such distinctly judgemental statements. Did you pity me? Did you think Oh, that's so sad, the poor thing? Did you take a moment to think about how I could have handled it better or to wonder if I got it all resolved? Did you think I was crazy or had issues?
Maybe I'm paranoid to think you might have thought those things. Or maybe I'm not as paranoid as you think. Consider carefully what your emotional and mental response was. And on that note, I challenge anyone to handle what I've handled with half the grace I have, or half the commitment to healing and using those experiences toward altruism. When someone walks into your life having those experiences, who would you trust and turn to to help them? Are you like the people who know me best and respect me well - do you call me up?
I'd like to talk a little bit more about emotional abuse. I'd like to talk about the kind of long term effects of being treated in a way that invalidates your belief system about yourself, your esteem for yourself, you sense of security and well-being, that calls you out on your tiniest of mistakes and magnifies them and focuses you on your difficulties. Self-hate becomes a habit when you are surrounded by people who are self-hating and by extent, hateful to you. When you enter a relationship with someone who is self-hating and other-hating, and that relationship takes on a physical element (consensual or non-consensual), that energy takes a place in your heart and it can rot it. Being in an emotionally abusive relationship is like slowly rotting from the inside out. You feel dirty and broken on the inside, even when a part of you knows its untrue, and you will likely always be vulnerable to that feeling when someone tries to take advantage of you in any way.
In my recovery from abuse, but specifically emotional abuse, when someone would come along and be abusive again, I wouldn't know what else to do but let them. I'm not stupid. That's not why this happens. It's because I spent a huge amount of time being yelled at and called names for being disloyal and cruel, having cutting words whispered in my ear of how little value I had because I couldn't hold it together in some way or another, or being called out on my emotional and mental issues with little to no empathy or regard for how having those things doesn't make me crazy or of less value than others without those issues.
I've held onto enough friends while they cried to know that this is not an isolated problem, or something that happens to weak people. Dear nice people: we may be a little broken at times, but we're tired of being treated with kid gloves or as if we're fragile. We're not. We don't wish our circumstances on you, but we don't think that anyone that judges our reactions would do as well. By all means, exercise compassion, but there's a fine line between kindness and pity.
Moving on to how this all relates to being a bravado babe. When you're a bravado babe, there will always be people who shoot arrows. You get so used to wearing armor that eventually, you stop taking it off.
For me, I figured the best way to handle it would be to be exactly what they expected of me in public and then go about my life in private. You see, I'm not really a player, I'm not really a flirt or super social or popular or cool. Now don't start thinking that I don't like myself now, I really like myself quite a lot. I do seem to have a peculiar effect on people which can sometimes be really enjoyable and I like pushing people beyond their boundaries a little bit and being silly. But that's not what I'm talking about here.
If you see me in public, especially in the context of being around men my age, you'll probably notice that I seem amiable but distant, flirtatious and friendly but with a tendency to disappear from the scene quickly. I'll rapidly switch from warm to cold, I feel like everyone is watching and it makes me incredibly nervous, like I'm a performance artist in my own life.
I am aware that it's really not that big of a deal. But for those of us who have literally had that scrutiny repeatedly vocalized to us, it's hard to quit. Emotional abuse leaves some pretty serious scarring. Scar tissue is unique in a few ways. It's tougher and less flexible than other tissues. It doesn't stretch and bend as easily, and the places that healed over just need more time. Those of us with scar tissue will probably always be able to see it and feel it, even when it's healed up. I don't think about my scar tissue necessarily, not consciously anymore, but it affects the way I can move about my life emotionally. It affects most the areas from whence it originally came, even when the source is not the same.
So, no. I'm really not always that confident with things, but I'm getting better. Mostly it would be nice if people stopped expecting me to have any relationship experience like that of my peers. Honestly, I'm a yogic weirdo who takes the back door in relationships. I'm not cool as a cucumber, I'm awkward and I don't mind other people stepping outside of their comfort zones (I think it's funny), I'm super sincere and I wear my heart on my sleeve at all times. That phrase gets a lot of credit for being a good thing, I think, but you'll also know exactly when I'm pissed (hahahaha.... hence being such a spitfire, it's a side effect of intense honesty. Literally ask anyone that has known me for anything longer than six months. No one has ever had to guess if I was mad. I just am).
I'm not some suave person, I'm just a funny girl who tries not to let the legacy of emotional abuse affect the way I interact with people, especially the rare people who really interest me romantically, and mostly I fail at it all the time. And that's mostly fine with me, if a bit embarrassing and confusing most of the time. I've kept pretty silent about this issue, but it's time to just end the silence. Silence never helped anything for me.
I am sorry for the ways my dysfunction has hurt others, and I take absolute accountability for that. I'm a little bit of a living dichotomy, and a lot bit complicated and quite magical, and I'm okay with it. I struggle just like anyone else does, I just believe in being really, really honest. I think it helps everyone.
Love and Admiration,
Shareeta
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