Women Frighten Me (story time)

At least it’s not as bad as it used to be, although women still make me feel uncomfortable. But why? Well this is the beauty of healing oneself from dysfunctional programming because everything changes in the world at large when it’s accomplished effectively. So let’s take a walk through an experience I had last night before I headed for bed. Y’all know what time it is…

storytime
atrociousgale – PhotoBucket

The man sat intently in the corner of the little cafe as no one dared approach him. Was he frightening in stature? Oh heavens no, just scraggly in the sense that his locks of hair and face sweater enveloped most of what others saw when they gazed in his general direction. Not to mention the fact he was fairly focused on the work at hand.

But alas, he wasn’t alone for long. For a female eventually found herself less than a foot away from the mountainous dweller who occasionally found himself sharing space with the rest of civilization. He noticed the slender brunette from a distance as her figure and torn jeans reminded him of a girl he used to date before turds hit the fan, and he laughed to himself inwardly as he made the connection. Not the breakup, just the similarities in body-type.

He then averted his gaze slightly as she filled his peripherals. Oh no, she’s coming this way he thought to himself. Just ignore her and she’ll go away. It wasn’t long before she stopped at the table beside him as she looked for the only accessible outlet in the entire cafe.

Do you mind if I use this chair? She turned to ask him as he noticed his table was hogging three chairs for no particular reason.

Sure thing, I’ve been hoarding them anyways. He replied as they both giggled for a moment. She then thanked him for being so merciful (not really, but she did thank him) prior to resting with her back turned towards him. Now one might think that would be the end of the interaction, although his mind noodle engaged its engines at this point.

She’s literally a foot away from me with her back turned. He thought to himself as he noticed how she kept fidgeting in the seat before him, turning and moving her things repeatedly on a surface that lacked any reasonable area. You could say something to her. I could. He even noticed things to say or mention, although he refrained from producing any sound as if to evade a prowling predator.

It wasn’t much longer before he started feeling something twist and turn in his chest, almost as though the gears of a machine were rotating as its mechanisms set in motion events that could not be stopped so easily. I wanna go home – I’m ready to leave. He thought to himself. But that’s ridiculous because nothing is wrong? I don’t know what she’s doing, and she’s making me feel uncomfortable. On that note the man arose from the table he occupied before packing his things.

Say goodbye at least. He then turned to mutter the words have a good night as she looked up sullenly to return the same in kind.

Fin.

I then returned home to reflect and think about what happened since it’s a pattern I’ve struggled with overcoming. But then again, it’s something that has protected me (and others) from having to experience crummy relationships. Why? Because I don’t know what I’m doing in regards to sharing space with other people. Guys are easier to be around because I’m not interested in having sex with them, but women are different. To each their own.

Buuuuuuuuut it’s impossible to develop any type of relationship when I can’t even approach a female without feeling dread and despair on some level. So then I realized that most of the women from my past were dysfunctional in some way or another – narcissistic, passive aggressive, negative, etc. Does that include the gals I’ve dated? Not really because they didn’t stick around long enough for me to see. Did I mention this was a pattern?

On the one hand it’s confusing for any child to be raised by a monster because the very definitions for LOVE and HATE are completely crossed. Parents love their kids since they gave them life, right? It’s difficult for a kid to discern the difference because their worldly exposure typically takes place within the confines of their home. Thus we have the ya don’t know what ya don’t know predicament.

Then I remembered something from my teens – my mom used to make me feel extremely uncomfortable by touching me. Did she molest me? Nah, thankfully. But she would lightly run her fingertips across my flesh as a way to provide comfort? I guess. In any case, it always felt awful and made me cringe beyond measure. Think of it like having someone running a cold scalpel across your skin, and you’ll connect. I honestly think she did it purposefully to make my skin crawl – associating motherhood and femininity with something repulsive. She was malignant after all(a special kind of narc, getting up towards the psychopathic spectrum – aka the BEST of the BEST).

Not to mention the fact both my parents ignored me repeatedly, and my father didn’t have any friends to hang out with when he wasn’t working. So ya. My parents sucked. This explains how I’ve effectively been programmed to isolate myself over the years because who wants to explore the world when most of the people you’ve contacted have thrown turds in your punch bowl? Well that would obviously mean everyone throws turds!

Nah, just some. Most people are just trying to figure their place in the universe at large, but I was un(lucky) enough to be birthed in an entire network of dysfunctional peeps because they taught me how not to treat others – even though I still do so occasionally. I’m working on it at least…

Many blessings!

Ladies and gents, let’s find someone to Lean On…

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Featured Image: Creepy Gifs – Tumblr

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