One
of my favourite places in the world is London.
I
don't live there, but I go there from time to time. I love its
hugeness, its immediacy, the way every time I go I see giant
buildings being demolished and rebuilt. Constantly in flux, never
settled, always the same. I love its incomprehensible vastness, the
huge numbers of people who never look at you, the way you can melt
into it like a drop of water into the sea. I feel comfortable. I feel
safe. I feel anonymous. You could do anything, in London. You could
be anyone and no-one would ever know. You could find a tiny flat, a
room of your own, a nook high somewhere among all that dizzying
multitude of roofs, and no-one would ever need to know where you
lived. You could have a safe place, all yours and only yours, with
no-one else ever invited in.
Anonymity
is one of my favourite feelings. Sometimes I sit in my flat, watching
a film I have chosen or reading an obscure book, and revelling in
being alone and unknown. Sometimes I'm watching something, or doing
something, cooking a meal on my own and a sudden feeling of freedom
sweeps over me, the knowledge that nobody has any idea that I am here
doing this particular thing. This feeling that my essential being is
free, that I am a person separate from other people, that I exist in
my own right.
Other
times, on bad days, I feel spread out, owned, pinned under a
microscope. A tiny and uninteresting insect dissected and then
dismissed by an omnipotent giant. These are the days when it is a
struggle to get out of bed.
All
my life, I've attracted people who want to control me. Matthew, and
people like him. Managers who insist on inspecting every piece of
work I do. Friends who put me down, choose my clothes for me, tell me
how to do my hair and who I should go out with, expect me to drop
everything immediately just because they want to talk to me or see
me. People who never see my point of view. Who never take the time to
realise I have one.
It's
one of the reasons I've never had a serious relationship. I'm scared
of being in a relationship. Very scared. To spend that much time with
someone, to let them in that far - if I choose badly, if I allow the
wrong person to bully me into giving more than I want - then all that
freedom could be annihilated.
I'm
well aware that this is ridiculous. There would be nothing to keep me
in a relationship that didn't work.
Except,
except...some people know how to manipulate you. Some people like to
control you. Some people hate it when they don't feel that you are giving them the respect
they've decided is due to them, when you don't agree with them all
the time. Some people walk into your life, sit down, and say: "I'm
your friend," or "I'm your boyfriend," and it's only
later that you think: did I make a decision about that?
But
by then it's too late. This person who has unilaterally decided to be
part of your life requires to own you and
gets angry if you won't let them. Because my default position is
to assume that other people are right and I'm in the wrong, I give
in. I text them when they say I should. I apologise when they scream
abuse at me. When they behave badly, I make excuses for them. And
then I open the door and smile and let them walk back into my life
and bully me again.
So
imagine a boyfriend like that. I can imagine a boyfriend like that.
And
it's difficult to tell, you can't always tell, you can't ever tell.
I've been caught out before.
The
issue is me, essentially. Me and my fucked up boundaries. Me and my
inability to stand up for what I believe in, or articulate what I
want. Me and my lack of trust in my own judgement, strength or
ability.
Me,
me, me, feeling like the only way to be free is to not be seen, like
any small scared creature that hides in a hole and runs out when it's
dark to steal seeds, any scrap of fur destined to end its life as a
damp squeak in the jaws of something bigger and crueller. I have the
same anxious instinct.
Hehh.
Enjoying the fucking pity party, Alice? You don't have to obey orders
just because they're given. You don't have to hide. You can stand up
and say what you think and what you feel. It's your responsibility to
ensure your own rights are protected, just like it's your
responsibility to ensure you don't infringe anyone else's rights.
I
know. It's just, some days, I don't feel it.
I've been to therapy, just like Alice. (For much less severe reasons, though)
ReplyDeleteYou end up in a state where you understand all the mechanisms that lead you down the wrong path, but you still can't stop yourself from walking it.
Frustrating.
And I think sometimes, in therapy, (which I've also had) it's even easier to screw up, because you know people expect it of you. Or, at least I felt like I wouldn't be there if I weren't a screw-up.
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