This is a time-sensitive post of a personal nature and will be password protected in the usual manner.
One of the things I have been working on with my counselor is re-establishing a healthy balance of trust. In short, I have been stuck between extremes of complete trust or complete distrust, which were necessary to survive during periods of trauma, but have done me little good in more peaceful times. In other words, it has been difficult for me to measure partial trust, or trust that is refined and adjusted over many interactions with a person. Sadly, as I count my mother among my abusers, that sense of measured trust has been lacking with women. (Men are a different story– sometimes I can partially trust, but sometimes I just completely distrust them.)
This has been MUCH harder on the Internet, where some users hide behind a sense of pseudo-anonymity. To be more fair, it’s much easier for me to trust someone too much in an online interaction, and then recoil when new information comes along that suggests I should not trust so much. I tend to look at it as a betrayal, and then I shut that person out completely.
(I don’t want anyone reading– that I know is reading, anyways– to ask, “Do I do this?” If you’re asking this question, I tell you: “No, because you’re asking yourself this question, you’re not, and you’re fine.”)
I did that today.
It was an Ex-Voxer, that much is all I will say, and again, no, not any of you… someone who I am reasonably certain does not even read nor travel along this space anymore. Someone who did not migrate to WordPress but stayed with TypePad.
I begged for reciprocity but it seemed to fall on deaf or distracted ears. So I stopped reading. But then I saw this person pop up strong on Google+, and I thought, “Well, maybe it will be different on G+.” I decided today that this person had drifted away and was not noticing what I had to say anymore.
I apologize, dear readers, if this seems like drama whoring. I never liked drama whoring and hate to do anything like it. But I like to consider this analogy: trauma survivors are not like ducks. Water does not roll off our backs easily. We are much more like dogs, and we can learn to shake that water off. I hope to be better at doing that whole body shake many dogs do, and wag my tail happily afterwards.
There will be people who will say, I think, “Damnit, boy, shake yourself outside, not in my clean house!” You know what I mean, yeah? You don’t want the dog shaking off muddy water in your house. Fortunately, I like to think this blog space is my own house and you all are frequent enough guests that a shake or two is not too unseemly.
On a brighter note, another letter came from an Ex-Voxer, promising better reciprocity in the near future in the blogosphere for Cimmy and I. I think that’s a fine sentiment to close this post with; wouldn’t you agree?