I have always thought of my life as a story. Bullies at school were the bad guys, my friends and I were the good guys, and some lucky soul out there would be the love interest that saved me from my tower.
For those who may not know story lingo:
Protagonist: the hero, the good guy, the main character people are rooting for.
Antagonist: the villain, the bad guy, or the force the heroes are fighting against.
In my mind, I have always been the hero, but sometimes I relate more to one of Taylor Swift’s latest singles.
“I’m the problem. It’s me.”
I super relate to this song, as I am not a stranger to thinking of myself as the monster on the hill. But whether I’m a hero who is easy to root for or not, I have always thought of myself as the hero. However, I became aware at some point that I was only the protagonist of my own story. Maybe in some I was the comedic-relief best friend, but in others, perhaps, I was the bad guy.
Thanks to therapy, I am now figuring out how I like to be treated and learning the concept of boundaries. It took me a while to realize a boundary does not control others, it only controls me and how much I decide to take. In general, I look for friends that like to laugh, care about my wellbeing, and are generally friendly and conversational. I try to stay clear of people who talk of politics too much, who complain nonstop, and people who make fun of me instead of talk with me. I love to laugh maybe more than most, but if you’re using humor to get around talking about something real, I’m done.
If something is made entirely clear throughout all of my blog posts, it is this: Nothing is scarier to me than being so grossly misunderstood that I feel unseen and unknown entirely.
Z got me a 3-year listography journal for Christmas last year and I’ve had so much fun answering the list prompts every day. One of the latest was “My Least Favorite People.” At first, I was actually excited, as I knew exactly who I would put down, but as I thought on each name, all I got was fired up! How dare these people still be roaming around in my heart, apparently ready with a match at any point?!
“So I’ll stand up and fight ‘cause I know that I’m right!”
BUG
The first name was obvious to me: someone I knew in college that I will call Bug. Bug was not only disrespectful to us in a time that we helped her, but she also said a lot of things to me and to Z that have not left me. This situation, in my mind, ended up dividing our a cappella group in a way that made me anxious at each rehearsal. However, the most upsetting thing she did was blame it all on me. I know I didn’t handle the situation well either— I was not so oblivious pre-therapy that I thought I was exempt from blame— but she definitely played a part. After college, when my fire had dimmed to ash, I decided to apologize to everyone I felt deserved an apology. I called this no-excuse apology series “I’m Sorry With No Buts.” No matter how hurt I was by their actions, all I could do was take responsibility for my part in it. This decision really brought me a lot of peace in and of itself, but I am thankful that most people responded warmly, apologizing for their part, with kind words involving how “everyone makes mistakes” and “no one does things perfectly.”
After a week, I thought Bug wouldn’t reply. Unfortunately, after dozens of bright reminders of the goodness in people, Bug’s response came through as a black cloud over me. I can’t even refer back to this message, as I deleted it soon after receiving it, but she had decided to respond with such sassy, holier-than-you words that I understood the phrase “my blood was boiling” for the first time. Even though I said my piece and released myself of guilt or shame of the situation, the memory of her still brings out a rage in me whenever I hear her name. I know we are all broken people just trying our best, but it’s hard not to take it personally when all your best efforts to salvage a roommate friendship go belly-up. And if you guys could read the letter she left us…UGH. God knows Bug’s heart and has forgiven her, but on behalf of a younger Gab (who felt like she was in her villain era), I cannot.
“We won’t eat our words. ‘Cause they don’t taste good.”
STORMY
Next is someone I’ll nickname Stormy, whom I should be close with, but I am not. On paper, we have loads in common, but in practice, we are from different worlds. I grew up to be a dandelion and she grew to be a wallflower… or a Venus flytrap. I’m not sure yet. I can’t even nail down the start of Stormy and I’s dissension, but at the core of my anger is a feeling of being rejected by her. It’s been years and years of unavoidable negative interaction with this person and I wish that I had been more confident in sharing my own feelings when she first came into my life. Perhaps this all would have turned out differently. I am someone who lives without regrets of words or actions I have decided to put into existence, but I do regret things I didn’t do. I regret not listening to my gut and never saying what I felt.
I don’t know about Stormy, but every time I see her, I get anxious. Every time she tells a story, I don’t believe her. And every time she says she’ll hang out with me, I know she won’t. It’s really hard for me to be around someone who I don’t trust on a base level. And it’s the amount of time I need to spend with her that mixes all this into a mess equivalent to a day’s old clam chowder; it low-key makes me sick. Maybe it’s my all-to-convenient need to be the realest™ 24/7. But when I’m around her, I need to curtsy, put my pinky up, and lie to everyone about how often our kids hang out.
“Someone like you would always be easy to find.”
A POLITICAL YOUTUBER
On the last name, I ended up writing down Tomi Lahren as she is easy to dislike. If I believed she was doing anything with good intentions or had a heart, maybe she wouldn’t be here on this list, but- as they would say in The Good Place- she’s a forking bench.
However—
That isn’t who I thought of at first. All of these people are on this list in the first place because of its original members. My anxious attachment style makes it foggy— flip-flopping seemingly by the day— whether they are my favorite or least favorite people, because they are my people.
I never close the door.
There is no doubt about it- if any of these people on my list came to me wanting connection— excluding Tomi Lahren— I wouldn’t hesitate for a second to bridge the gap. (And that’s on my core trauma, but we’ll get to that later.) I am not the one who lets go or runs away; I am someone who holds on tighter. I can be easily triggered when I am treated in any way that mirrors what I grew up dealing with. I am really the only one that can define the way I should be treated, but it’s hard to decide how to define it when I was never allowed to decide.
“I’ve learned to love me as myself. But then I’m with somebody else. I question everything I know…”
How do I fix these relationships?
What would I want them to do? Realize the error of their ways and apologize. Is that likely? Nnnnnnnn-no. The people on my list are broken humans that seem to lack the power of empathy. So, I pray for their continued emotional growth and widened perspective. I made a new goal in starting this blog not to diminish myself to fit into the everyone’s boxes, so I shan’t.
And, like a movie, I watched an episode of Bluey last week that applied to my life personally…
A Life Lesson from Bluey
*Bluey Season 3 spoilers ahead tehe
In a new Bluey episode called “Tradies,” Bluey and Bingo see trade workers begin construction in their backyard and are horrified that they are ripping the grass out. This terrible act leads them to declare the tradies as their enemies. Their mum is concerned about the timeline of her koi pond’s completion, so she tasks her daughters with spying on the tradies to make sure they are working hard. They nickname the tradies Big Belt and Chocolate Milk. They soon understand Chocolate Milk and “Cherry” are fighting and she isn’t driving him to work anymore. During an ice cream break, Cherry calls Chocolate Milk again and Big Belt is left with an extra cone, which he gives to a not-so-stealthy Bingo. While the sisters split the ice cream, Bluey comes to realize all the people she pegged as enemies were only arguing briefly and would become friends again once conflict resolved. As a peace-offering, Bluey delivers a small apple pie to Big Belt. In the end, the tradies complete the project in time and Big Belt drives away solo, revealing that Chocolate Milk and Cherry have made up and they drive off together.
If only life was little misunderstandings that easily led to a heartwarming conclusion. I love this episode and the beauty in its simplicity. But I have found myself in deeper waters than koi ponds.
Maybe I am like Bluey in all this, suspicious and untrusting when construction is taking way longer than planned. Maybe I’m more like Bingo, who practically runs to accept a white flag in the form of free ice cream. Maybe it all is that simple and my happier days are just a cherry pie away.
All I know is that relationships are the meaning to life. What can we get from a life all on our own that will teach us what love is? God has a great love for us beyond comprehension, but it is through relationships that we can start to understand, that I can start to understand.
It’s hard, but at least I’m trying. My trauma has made my vision black and white; that there are good people and bad people. But I am trying to see in shades of gray. And remember we are all just people.
“Wanna remember the good.”