The Pain is Exquisite-C'est fini

All Kinds of Monsters

Part Three

The Third Monster: Me

My monster, myself.

This is the final installment of the pain series, my take on women as monsters. Now, once you have discovered and/or worked through releasing yourself from an oppressive mother or bitchy friends, what’s left? I’ll tell you what’s left, your brain. Your mind, the memories, the tape, the rhetoric, and the self-talk. How do we undo what’s been done?

It’s crazy, really. If you’ve read every self-help book out there, seen countless therapists, attended workshops and support groups, journaled till your fingers bled, why are you still allowing this pattern to continue? You get used to it. Quitting a habit is hard. They say you should replace unhealthy behavior with something new. I’ve tried. It’s getting easier. But, if you are a pleaser, even “healthy” habits can become obsessive. You can tip the scales with anything. 

Do this. Don’t do that. Look in the mirror and say good things to your reflection. If you listened to someone else most of your life, sometimes it’s easier to believe the bad stuff. You eat too much. You skirt is too short. Flirt with a guy, you’re a slut. If it was your mother, “Why can’t you….” If it was your friends, “Gosh, I can’t believe you just did this or that. You’re such a …” Fill in the blank. You finally get to an age where you just don’t give a shit anymore. You cut the toxic people from your life. But the tape. The reel plays on and on and on.

When you’ve extricated yourself from poisonous relationships, you think you’re done. Your brain, your mind, and your memories are like, “Nope. Not going to happen.” It’s not easy. For one thing, if you’ve adopted the mindset, say with a parent, of limited versus no contact well, it’s still work. It’s easier with girlfriends. Kicking your own mother out of your life is difficult. This action comes with extreme guilt, shame even. You catch yourself saying, “Maybe I’m overreacting. The last time wasn’t so bad. I can do this.” Then, BAM! They have you right where they want you. They’ve lured you back in. Your guard is down. You’re vulnerable, fresh flesh unmarred, exposed. They know what buttons to push, and they will. Gotcha. And then, you look like the insane person for reacting. The pain is familiar, comfortable. Exquisite.

            Stephen King in his book, On Writing, is quoted:

            “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me three times, shame on both of us.”

 I for one do not want to be the fool any longer. But still, I choose limited contact. Guilt. Mother guilt. And with friends, I have some good ones which makes me hypersensitive to the bad ones. And I’m left thinking, “Oh, she’s mean. She’s very negative. Perhaps, she’s not a friend.”  I’ve gotten past a lot of pain, trying to believe I deserve great things, trying to love myself, trying to succeed. It’s unfamiliar, uncomfortable, like clothes that are too tight. Sitting with our emotions, our reactions, it’s challenging.

As a mother myself, I have to keep going.* I have to try. Every. Day. And if you’re not a mother, there's probably someone in your life that makes you want to be a better person. It’s not just me wallowing in my own despair. It affects others. There are eyes and ears on me. I’ve got to set an example. How else will the chains break? I am exposed, which is a good thing. Children should see you happy, sad, mad. There’s a gamut of emotions. These times when you are laid bare, are learning experiences, teachable moments. Parents are here to slay the monsters. Nothing is perfect. But…there are moments of perfection.

Life should be exquisite, not pain.

*One, I am a mother, so this is only my POV. Two, I'm not a therapist. Just a writer who lives in their head and spends too much time trying to figure out how to live on this planet.