Jacqui (jacqui) wrote,
Jacqui
jacqui

Talk About Drama, I Do Not Deserve This Crap!

My boyfriend alerted me to some of the nasty hurtful things that La_Lisa/Astral Bitchslap has been writing about me on her journal. Oh man it just sickens me. And there are two anonymous posters over there, people who read my journal agreeing with her, basically telling her, "Right on for standing up to fucked up Jacqui." Well, one of them was actually a little bit nicer about it, if they're even real people.

How much more hurtful is this going to get? I ban people when they cross a line, not when they say something challenging or controversial. For anyone who agrees with Miss Astral Bitch Slap, just go back three or four entries in my journal to the one where I dare to admit to having developed a dependency on prescription pills, a very small dependence, and you will see that there was another woman who posted a similar series of comments, but they were done with respect and kindness and while challenging, I responded in kind and did not ban her. However, when someone calls me a sweetly facile pathetic loser who is going to end up killing herself, I think I have the right to put up the defense shields. It isn't a matter of my not being able to hear her sage advice, it's a matter of needing to protect my serenity by deciding who is safe and who is not.

For Christ's sake, I am an intelligent woman. I have an extremely high IQ. There isn't a single thing she said to me that I haven't thought about, weighed, and taken action on. We don't all change or grow at the same rate. We don't get cured or fixed just because someone is abusive to us in some twisted form of "social engineering". Plants don't thrive and grow when their caregivers shout at them, and I did not appoint this total stranger, despite the fact that she claims to have been reading my journal for two years, as my caregiver. Pound, pound, pound, judge, wound, insult, pound, are you growing yet?

Silly me trusting the LJ community to handle this with kindness.

Why isn't there more tolerance out there for people's foibles and "self inflicted" problems? We are all of us imperfect. Every one of us does something that someone else thinks they would be able to fix in a second, thinks they have the solution for, if they had the chance. But if any one of you had to really live in my body with my entire physical and emotional history, do you really think you'd be able to do any better? I've had therapists and psychiatrists say they are amazed that I'm not schizophrenic or dead. I am resilient. I am loving. I am kind. I am good. My greatest mistake is in thinking that it is safe to share the darkest parts of myself here while there are people out there who, sharing nothing about their own lives, take it as their right to come out and pound on me.

Who here thinks that the way to help another person is to kick them when they're down? Who here thinks that the way to get someone to shape up and start acting like the rest of the world is to essentially call them a dead loser? Maybe I don't want to be like the rest of the world. Maybe what makes me interesting and special is the very thing you would change about me. Yes, I am different, I am imperfect, I prattle about my problems, but this is MY JOURNAL, your ability to trespass here is by permission only. If I don't ask for advice, if we haven't established a mutual trust and respect, then I don't really want it. However if you offer it in a way that is respectful I will weigh it and take it in and respond, but if you put me down in a high handed superior way, insulting me in the guise of trying to help me, then no, I'm not going to let you in any more.

You know I went over there and wrote a relatively forgiving, respectful letter, offering to forgive and move beyond this, but then I scanned down and read her first post and thought, oh forget it, this woman just wants to rip me apart, laughing while she does it. Why would someone waste their time reading the journal of someone they have so little respect for, was it some curious ride for her? She actually referred to my real life problems as "nonsense", and said, "you spew every minute ooze of thought in public like an overactive tomcat". And this is someone whose advice and council I should take? Someone who cares about me? This person who grants that I actually might have some nice qualities but am really just sad, welcomes her anonymous supporters to her grand "experiment in social engineering." Lovely, let's all just experiment on each other shall we? I have never been closer to taking this entire journal underground than I am right now, perhaps weeding out a few suspicious weeds along the way.

And calling all of my journal friends a bunch of cosigners, (God I hate that stupid expression), is just insulting. Bla bla bla therapy speak. So everyone who doesn't tell me off here, when I open up about my problems, is a cosigning wimp who is keeping me in the dark abyss of my deranged, self inflicted drama?

God damnit I hate this. Why do I give people so much power? I truly had no idea how many people read my journal. I had no idea there were people out there reading my hastily scribbled words, that are often just an expression of whatever I am feeling and needing to get out of my way at a particular moment, words that are not carefully weighed and edited but rather shared raw as one would do in a journal, damnit, and judging me. I had no idea there were people out there dying to fix me and unable to come out and say it for fear they would lose my good opinion of them.

How weird is this? What planet have I landed on that someone congratulates this person for supposedly making me think and perhaps take action based on her hurtful insulting words. And she thinks it's funny that I banned her, that this is the equivalent of putting my fingers in my ears and going, "La la la la la la la." She, or he for all I know, comes in to my journal, on an entry where I am saying that I recognize I have a problem and share what I am doing about it, then proceeds to tell me to do the very things I am already doing, criticizing me harshly along the way, and sees herself as some kind of brave heroic helper being? Oh puhlease, leave me alone, go pick on someone else, if you think I am self destructing, then let me self destruct in peace.

You don't know me as well as you think you do.

Here's the letter I wrote to her.

I can hear you Lisa, (or whoever you are), but I don't think you can hear me saying ouch. Your way of addressing this, of me, was so hurtful. How can you call me a sweetly facile pathetic loser and think I would react any differently? And you've insulted all of my LJ friends and made them seem like a bunch of wimpy losers as well, people who don't have the nerve to stand up to me and tell it like it is, like you can. Can't you see how high handed you are being?

I really don't think you get the impact you have had on me. You really, really hurt me and have had me in tears for three days now, and all because I what, took the brave step of admitting that I recognized a dependence and am taking steps to deal with it. It's like piling on someone when their down. Oh yeah? You've got a drug dependence problem now you big loser? Well, that's just the final straw for me, I'm going to weigh in on this one and tell you what I really think of you because your other friends here will just kiss your ass because they're all a bunch of fake fannish wimps. Can you see what a double bind this is? Now I can't trust my friends because they're just cosigning me. Processing the hurt of this on my journal will just bring more of this fawning over me while what I really need is what you prescribe for me, a good bitch slapping. Hunh? Where do you get this hard edged attitude from?

You weren't overtly cruel but you were really hurtful, superior, flip even. Yes, I put myself out there, but I'm not as pathetic and fucked up as you seem to think I am. Have you ever found yourself whining to a friend about your partner or someone in your life and all of a sudden realizing that you have been leaving out all of the things you love about them? My journal is a lot like that. I fill up with feelings and then when I can, I spill them out on the page, but they do not reflect everything about me, and I am a living breathing real person behind this journal. You seem to know and judge me at a distance, there she is poor tragic soul, I think I'll just let her have it, might be good for her.

What gets me is that I don't know anything about you, you seem to have been reading my journal for all of this time, having reached conclusions about me based only on what I've chosen to share, and possibly what Maria may have been able to fill you in on, but you can't possibly have the complete picture of who I am, and I didn't invite you to slam me so badly that it's kept me in tears for days. Your words have been ringing in my ears, when I make love, when I drive my car, when I try to sleep at night. Maybe you like this kind of thing and appreciate it when people confront you like this, I don't. I have had enough criticism and judgment to last me through this lifetime and ten or more beyond.

Am I the person every therapist and psychiatrist I have ever seen who has said they are amazed to see doing as well as I am, given the circumstances of my life, the complicated abusive relationship with my alcoholic parents, my narcissistic mother, my father's cold distance, his rage, and physical abuse, being sexually abused by my nanny who was my primary caretaker for years and years, being betrayed and abandoned by just about everyone I've ever really loved, having my husband leave me for a stripper, finding my adoptive mother only to learn that she was raped, and my dad might just be this skid row alcoholic named Tommy the Salami who died with a stoma in his throat and without a penny to his name, and this doesn't even begin to touch on the fact that I have significant physical and mental challenges to overcome. Am I a survivor or am I a pathetic loser as you seem to see me? Am I just this fucked up idiot who is going to ruin her son's life and end up dead or broke? The problem clearly is that I give you and everyone else way too much power, I am too sensitive and have never had the best boundaries. If you weren't Maria's friend I would just dismiss you outright as being seriously mean and snotty, someone who thinks they are better than everyone else.

I don't mean to judge you while condemning you for being judgmental but what else do I have to go on? You just pop into my life, wound me, and expect this to give me the kind of old fashioned double cheeked slap that men used to dole out to hysterical women, only when did this technique ever really work? It just shocks people into silence for a moment or two while the hurt is still there bubbling beneath the surface.

Your letter was just dripping with insult and sarcasm, "precious" cats. Can you hear yourself? Please, please, please read it with an open mind and an open heart and try, just try to see why it provoked so much hurt in me, and anger in people who are close to me.

And Sees Candy boxes? We haven't had those since a month or so after Christmas. I developed a problem with them, I recognized this and then I banned them. Beau's sleeping problems, he has had them since he was born! Do you think I haven't tried again and again to soothe him to sleep with baths, regular bedtimes, books, mellow music, massages, and every other thing out there. Beau has his faults but he is a terrific person. We have an amazing relationship. He can pretty much tell me anything. He trusts me. He's smart, he's creative, he's a math whiz, he just wrote ten of the best poems and read one of them at a terrific poetry reading. He is spiritually grounded. Some of this must have come from me his dead mother.

I think I've done a good job, an imperfect job, considering I am a single parent challenged by so many things on so many sides, but a really good parent nevertheless. Ask Beau, he read your entry and I had to stay his hand from coming over here and flaming you.

Yes, I am a very imperfect person, an imperfect mom, an imperfect partner, daughter, friend, human, but I am trying for fuck's sake. I get up and I try every single day. There is so much you don't know about me, can't know about me just because you read my journal.

I can't afford Sierra Tuscon or I would have gone there long ago. I considered it but my insurance won't cover it and my mother won't "kick down" the funds. She only frees up my money when it's in her interest, when there's something fun for her in it. But that was long ago and I have an arsenal of 12 step and therapeutic tools at my command now.

I think you are being something of am alarmist in your judgment of me. Could it be because you don't like or understand my choices. Is it because you think I'm weird? Yes, I'm different, I'm curious, I'm weird, but I'm fun, I'm loving, I'm compassionate, and I'm a life giver. I foster so much growth and care, I keep so much life going all around me, I spread light everywhere I go, I give out love to everyone I come into contact with. I think I'm a good person and it galls me that I'm sitting here defending myself to someone I know nothing about.

And far from sticking my fingers in my ears and saying I can't hear you, I'm saying, I hear you all too well and it fucking hurts. I just don't get what makes you think my world isn't peopled with folks who give the same advice that you do, (it's pretty basic, pat, advice -- go to meetings, get out of your house, stop stuffing your feelings, spending recklessly, hiding out behind your body fat and your distractions and stuff, God how could you think I haven't thought about and worked on all of this, these are classic symptoms of ADD, depression and possibly bipolar illnesses, and I am seeing a shrink and taking meds, what more do you want from me?) or that I would have thought of every single thing you said myself. I happen to be a very intelligent person with an IQ well over 130. I don't need someone who has never earned my trust to just open up and blast me. My whole life has been about deprivation, abandonment and loss. What makes you think reading my journal gives you the right to come in and kick my ass with tough love? I just don't get it really I don't.

I wish we could make peace and work through this but I think you are too entrenched in your opinions about me. I would gladly give you credit for meaning well, despite your overly aggressive and harsh style, but would you be able to back up a step and cop to any of that?

With wounded love,
Jacqui
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