Just had a blow-up with P. We’d left a pair of boots in the living room and he tripped over them. So he threw them across the room and cursed us out. Then, when we went to hug him, he pushed us away and said no hugs for us until we learn to do better and put stuff away.
I had to jump in and get us away before we broke down in sobs. I just said fine, and took us upstairs to bed. It’s only 6pm but who cares. We don’t cry in front of people, even our partner of 17 years. It’s too vulnerable, and we hate feeling vulnerable. Vulnerable always got us punished, or mocked, or told to stop being so silly. Or it was thrown back in our face. Showing weakness wasn’t allowed. It’s a very hard lesson to un-learn.
I can shut down my emotions in situations like this. That’s why it’s me writing. I’m angry, and numb. Others are sobbing their hearts out. Withholding of affection is one of our few remaining triggers, and it’s a big one. Being told we have to be better to be worthy of affection is a fast trip back to childhood. The closed throat, the choking feeling, the place inside where we feel worthless, it’s all there. Again.
I have to write, because the feelings need to be aired. Otherwise, they’ll fester.
I can feel the rising need to cry coming from Inside, so I’ll step back and let it happen now. People need the release of tears.
And yes, we still love him. We just can’t deal with things that most people wouldn’t bat an eyelid at. Thanks trauma for fucking us up.