I'll Fix You, I'll Hurt Me

I’ll Fix You, I’ll Hurt Me

Back in the end days of the dark ages, I had a shrink friend who would say the unspoken motto of his clients, “I’ll fix you, I’ll hurt me.” I often laughed a little too loudly, a little too long; it always touched that inflamed nerve.

So often, when we think we are powerless, when we feel like victims, we cast around for things we can do to show the people we think are victimizing us how awful they are. Crying and carrying on doesn’t seem to work. Screaming, or the silent treatment doesn’t work. So we go to more drastic measures by hurting ourselves, and pick on ourselves until we have infected, bleeding sores, or cut ourselves, or we consume too much or too little, over-exercise, cut ourselves off from other loved ones, and a thousand other things that hurt us deeply, but usually make little impact on the Other.

When we are depressed, or miserable, we often mope around, flashing long faces, sad looks, heaving heavy sighs. When caring people ask how we are, we say that we are, sigh, fine. It’s often as though we want to punish others for, at the very least, not being us.

When we live in fear, we often strike out at imagined threats, we react rather than respond to people who mean us no harm, we may even strike out at them, and boy, is that confusing for those nice people.

These sure weren’t behaviors I liked doing, but, frankly, I didn’t know any other way. I was a scared and angry victim, and angry martyr, I was depressed, so I put a lot of that anger at me, the rest went to you, and I lived in the heart of Terroropolis, so I jumped at everything, snapped a lot, felt exhausted all the time, and really didn’t like what I did very much at all.

I had to learn how to do new things, like how to treat myself with respect. I had to learn how to address my anger and fear in different ways. I had to learn new ways of dealing with stress, with disappointment, with guilt and shame. I had to learn how to act like a grown up.

I had to learn that I am not a victim unless I agree to it with you. You can be rotten to me, but the victim part is my choice. I can choose to stay peaceful inside.

I had to learn that I am not a martyr unless I choose. If I let go of my belief that no one else can do X, I can relax and let other’s help me. I can choose to relax.

I had to learn that if it doesn’t make me feel happy from the inside out, I can change it. I can choose to exercise my choice.

Why do I choose to grow up? Why do I choose peaceful? Why do I choose relaxed? Why do I choose to choose?

I thought that being a grownup meant that I had to give up fun, not that I had all that much. I thought that being responsible meant that I would turn into a skware from Skwaresville. I thought that leaving the people who treated me so poorly, but who loved me, meant that I would be alone and unloved, miserable and helpless.

None of that was true. The more I choose to be a grownup, the more fun I have, the easier it is to have fun. In the words of a dear friend, “Being grown up is like being a teenager with resources.” The more responsibility I take for my own life, the more juice I have to do stuff for you, for us. When I have left, or been left by, the meanies, I have all this new room for nice things, loving wonderful people. I love having my closest friends be people I never worry about because they take good care of themselves, and subsequently, of me, too.

How have I changed from feeling ashamed of what I do to feeling proud, competent and empowered by my choices?

(c) Pam Guthrie 2013 all rights reserved 04282013