The last few weeks have been more intense than any I have experienced. Aside from the outlandish (being offered an episode on a reality docu-series, getting to tell Congress about my high school sex life, turning my friends yellow, this new rare freakshow health problem I’m suddenly dealing with, etc.) my subconscious has been exploding with revelations and annihilating the barriers that have plagued me and hindered my happiness literally my entire life.
I recently talked about my realization that all the hateful, horrible opinions that were beaten into me as a child were untrue and, later, about how free I suddenly am with this realization that none of what had happened was my fault. With my newfound self-validation, I tackled opponents who had continued to emotionally abuse me up until now, and I informed them that I’m shutting the whole dysfunctional cycle down by removing myself from it whenever they’re projecting anger through hurtful language. I made sure they knew I’m just fucking exhausted from all these years of garbage and I am so ready to be over it, so it’s not even something that affects me anymore. They’re forgiven because I see where they’re coming from. Anytime they want to change, I’m open to help because, Lord knows, I’ve had the luxury of gobs of therapy, and maybe others haven’t. I get that. I’m all about getting everyone else to be happy and free from bullshit, too.
Oh, but silly me for assuming that this would be the end of this incredible toppling-over of those long-instilled beliefs under which I lived. As my subconscious kept plowing forward, I suddenly realized that, if I was a beautiful, smart, intelligent, etc. person, this would mean that maybe I was really loved a lot more than I’d ever thought. And maaaybe people weren’t just trying to be closer to me to use me and reject me. And maaaaybe the people who did hurt me and reject me only did so because they felt intimidated…or… or something.
Oh. Ew. Weird. Really?
But then, I remembered back to when I was talking to that one crazyhot vixen from my high school, and I was apologizing for saying awful things about her out of my own insecurity (and the fact that I was probably in love with her). She and I were talking about how she’d never done anything to offend me, personally, and how I’d realized that I only said awful things about her because I was so threatened by her ability to seduce any teenage lover she wanted.
And then I blurted, “But I never, ever thought you would give a shit about what I said about you…”
I thought about that for a minute. “I hated myself so much, I never thought anybody could possibly be bothered by any stupid thing I said about them.”
She said, “Whoooooaaa…”
And we sat there in silence for another minute.
Never once in my entire life did I ever assume that I had any clout over anyone else’s feelings; I simply never thought I was important enough to be taken seriously…at all… in any circumstance… ever… From here, I can see that I just assumed I was floating through my interactions with people without having any affect on them at all, positive or negative. Needless to say, the idea that anybody regarded me as someone intimidating and/or gave my self-loathing proclamations any credence is still laughable to me… And, unfortunately, it’s also probably true….
It took me 4 effing years since then to realize that I probably did that to a bunch of other people… other than her…
Aaaaaahsheeeeeyuuuuaaaaat. Dammit, really?!
So, in the tradition of the 12 Steps (which work on any sort of recovery, btw – not just alcohol abuse), I flung my dignity by the wayside and acknowledged that maybe some of these people I’d always thought were out to hurt me actually might’ve been hurt by my emotional flailing too. And, like I do, I sought out everybody I had an inkling might’ve been affected by this, fully realizing that a) this shit all happened a really, really long time ago and b) I was going to look like an emotionally unstable/crazy person who can’t let go of the past by bringing this shit up.
Whatever. Apologies are definitely one of those things that are better when delivered late than never. And in the off-chance that any of these people I hurt held onto the same kind of anger and misguided beliefs that I did from my opponents, then they definitely deserve an apology… Or even if they didn’t, really. It doesn’t matter. When I fuck something up, I should apologize. Simple as that.
I am both mortified at the realization that I was kind of a cunt to people because I hated myself and didn’t know it and thankful for the insight/opportunity to recognize it so that it nevereverever happens again. And, in the future, I won’t have to bother people who ran away from me years ago with retarded apologies (“retarded” is used in the literal sense here, folks. Calm it down.) that interrupt their current lives like an unhinged maniac.
So… that’ll be nice.
But, ultimately, I feel so much lighter, so much freer. All those mantras RuPaul has had me saying for 20 years suddenly all make sense; I couldn’t love anybody properly until I loved myself. What other people say about me really isn’t any of my business because it doesn’t have anything to do with me anyway. (4 Agreements, ahoy!)
I’m pretty exhausted, but I’m also really, really fucking happy for a change. This is new; I like it.