I don't deal with strife well. I was conditioned that it didn't affect me. I was not allowed to show fear or weakness except when it suited the mood of my narcissistic mother who wanted a doll that reacted as she wished. Crazy thing is as a child, I didn't know any better and had no skills to cope or means of escape, so I believed them. I believed I had no fear even though terrified. That I was not sad, though crushed in heart. I lived this way long into adult life where they kept up the manipulation. By that point a mere look or word could trigger emotional shutdown.
But those feelings will out. They won't be denied and I have the constant effects of them in my body and brain.
So now, I am working to heal what may be healed but told not to expect it to all go away. In the meantime, strife is not simply an annoyance for me. It's a physical ailment. I get physically sick. I lose ability to focus. My brain ramps into hyper survival mode and won't stop looking for a way out, a moment of safety, an early sign of threat.
And because it's so much a life threatening response, I also get dangerous. I feel the rage and the hair trigger is set to go off at the slightest provocation. Please hear me, that what you might think is minor rudeness could result in your death. I have many defenses and safeguards to prevent this, but most of them are unhealthy. But thank God, I have not harmed anyone much. This aspect developed from failure of responsible adults and friends to recognize what was happening and, like Ender, leaving me to learn no help was coming.
The terrible sad thing is, I am more naturally a gentle person. Easily hurt, accomodating, slow to hold a grudge.
They are both true, and both me. Fractured by the abuse. So while you may not see the fight or understand the struggle, please realize that kindness will abate the problem.
Yes, I know it's my problem. But I didn't choose it either. And we'll both end up bloody if you insist on being an ass.
Likewise, I can't bear your burdens. Mine are already too heavy. Strangely, it's the ones with the least to carry that always seem so intent on dumping theirs on other people. Perhaps that's not fair. I don't know what you carry and you may be equally damaged and coping by seeking sympathy. But I'm not the one to give it and as I move toward integration, and these parts of me are closer to the surface, the chances of you getting the fangs instead of the hug increase.
Don't get me wrong, I want to help my friends. I want to carry your weight when you can't. But I need you to carry mine and you probably haven't paid any attention to how heavy mine is the whole time.
I don't know where this is going except to stand for kindness again. If we each just try to be nice and considerate, it goes so far. I'm telling you first hand, sometimes the simplest kindess has literally saved a life...and I don't mean just physically. Salvation of a soul can come through a gentle word and kind action.
