A number of years ago,
I was in an emotionally manipulative relationship–
not exactly abusive, but definitely manipulative,
and it was just as much my fault as hers
(since I had ignored some red flags from the start).
She had a number of personal problems she was working through;
she was unsure of who she was and who she wanted to be,
and her need for approval
and my need for acceptance
formed a nasty cycle of codependency.
Whether she did this on purpose or not,
shame and guilt became implements she used on me,
methods of intimidation for keeping me around and keeping me in line—
like I’d be worthless and broken if I left her,
like this would be my only chance at happiness,
and all the while, I was being depleted.
Her outbursts were frequent, and it was always my fault.
I was never good enough.
I lost contact with people who cared about me
as I donned the mask that everything was okay.
I could see what she was doing,
but out of fear and pride and a desire to “make it work,”
I hung on.
I would make things worse,
and then she would make things worse,
and it would escalate and escalate,
and I barely recognized myself outside of what she would say about me.
And when I finally did leave,
it was a long time before I finally started to feel like myself again,
but eventually I did.
It was hard making peace with the fact she’d never apologize to me
–in her version of the story, I would probably always be the villain–,
but eventually I did.
I had to learn to see myself
as something other than the labels she had given me
(selfish, worthless, weak),
and eventually I did.
I had to reclaim my identity
and reinvent myself on my own terms,
and this process has taken years,
but I’m making progress.
And perhaps the scariest of all,
though I was much more cautious about it this time around,
I had to open myself up to the possibility of being hurt again,
and eventually I did,
and I found love.
But this reminds me of another breakup.
A number of years ago,
I was on staff at an emotionally manipulative church–
not exactly abusive, but definitely manipulative,
and it was just as much my fault as theirs
(since I had ignored some red flags from the start).
They had a number of personal problems they were working through;
they were unsure of who they were and who they wanted to be,
and their need for approval
and my need for acceptance
formed a nasty cycle of codependency.
Whether they did this on purpose or not,
shame and guilt became implements they used on me,
methods of intimidation for keeping me around and keeping me in line—
like I’d be worthless and broken if I left them,
like this would be my only chance at happiness,
and all the while, I was being depleted.
Their outbursts were frequent, and it was always my fault.
I was never good enough.
I lost contact with people who cared about me
as I donned the mask that everything was okay.
I could see what they were doing,
but out of fear and pride and a desire to “make it work,”
I hung on.
I would make things worse,
and then they would make things worse,
and it would escalate and escalate,
and I barely recognized myself outside of what they would say about me.
And when I finally did leave,
it was a long time before I finally started to feel like myself again,
but eventually I did.
It was hard making peace with the fact they’d never apologize to me
–in their version of the story, I would probably always be the villain–,
but eventually I did.
I had to learn to see myself
as something other than the labels they had given me
(selfish, worthless, weak),
and eventually I did.
I had to reclaim my identity
and reinvent myself on my own terms,
and this process has taken years,
but I’m making progress.
And perhaps the scariest of all,
though I was much more cautious about it this time around,
I had to open myself up to the possibility of being hurt again,
and eventually I did,
and I found love.
There won’t be many updates to the page this weekend, but make sure to check out the Bar Chaplain twitter and instagram pages for live updates from the Wild Goose Festival! As always, thank y’all for taking this journey with me.