There was a skill I thought I had for many years that I've recently learned wasn't as good as I thought it was. Wasn't something I used for work, really just a fun party trick, but it was something I was proud of. On the short list of things I said I was good at, this was on top. When I was down and feeling like I wasn't one of the talented people, I'd remind myself that I had this.
Now I did know my limitations with this skill. I had no illusions that I'd ever do anything special with it. Yet it brought me happiness, I had fun with it, and again....I felt good about it.
So this supposed skill got put to the test and I apparently failed. Or I felt like I failed. Words were said to me that shattered me and my confidence was pulverized. No one intended to hurt me. Yet they were specific words about things I'd pushed down and tried to ignore so this shining light on them burned me.
The thought of doing it now makes me cry. I can't even do it for my own enjoyment alone. It's gone. I'm specifically not saying what this is as I don't want commentary about it, advice on what to do, or any other bullshit. I've heard enough.
As I contemplated my feelings over the past months I'm realizing I'm experiencing loss. I'm grieving what's gone. I'm sad over what was actually never there. There is anger (underlying hurt) but I have no one to be angry with. I find I'm silently screaming to the nothingness, "Why?! What do I have now?! I didn't have much to begin with!".
I'm also facing an ugly quality about myself here, where I shut down when I perceive things as going wrong. Black or white. In or out. I've been noticing this in aspects about myself as well as how I handle personal relationships. My therapist typically asks me, when I talk about issues in my life, "How old does this feel?". And this feels like a teenager.
When I was about 15 I was in my living room practicing ballet. I loved dancing and wanted to be a dancer when I grew up. My parents were in the middle of a bitter divorce at this time and everyone was edgy. My mother walked by and said in a condescending tone, "What are you doing!?!" I said, "I'm practicing so I can be a dancer." She let out a hoot of a laugh and said, "You'll never be a dancer! You're too short!" I quit dance that next week.
About a year later my parents were divorced and my mother was with a violent man. His friend's daughter had come to our house and dug in my room and found my ballet dress from when I was 11. I loved this dress. I thought it was the perfect ballerina dress and I dreamed of giving it to my daughter some day. I came home to find the dress destroyed. No idea why this little shit did it but I was told I couldn't do anything because "he" would be angry. I decided at that moment I never wanted to have a daughter (and later other reasons came into play as to why I only wanted a son).
I don't want to be this person who checks out when something hurts, when there is loss, when there is disagreement. I don't want to believe that everyone must agree with me (politics anyone?), yet I sort of do. I want to be able to enjoy what I felt was taken away again someday....
