Okay, so you get from the previous two posts (hey! I warned you!) that things were going to get girly in here. Like, wearing cheerleader skirts, listening to Miley songs about boys who were mean, and watching movies from the 90s girly.
(And yes, swole-papa-bear, a pic of the skirt is coming) ;-)
There has been a man in my life lately whom I have struggled to maintain a respectable distance from, despite the necessity to. Last night there were some words exchanged and I (as tends to be my way in all matters of the heart…) lost my temper and told him to leave my life forever. The girlfriend or me, time to choose. Friendship ain’t working here.
You’re not even shocked, are you? Bet you’re all going, “Oh Stephie! Not again!” I know, right? In my defense, his knee-jerk reaction was to shut down and make dumb threats, and then my knee-jerk reaction was to tell him to go the eff away.
We communicate good, right?
Well this morning I woke early, thoughts of last night’s heated exchange in my head, and I knew if I didn’t take action the day wouldn’t be my own.
(Do you think if I got “You freaking feel better after a wod, so get your fat, lazy, squat booty to training, stupid!” embroidered into a pillow I would be more likely to remember it?)
So today as the sun rose I was in the gym, pondering just how much I looked like a domestic violence victim after yesterday’s deadlift session when Marky Mark told me to spill on what it was that was clearly bothering me given that I was aggressively throwing weights around the gym like I was destroying bumpers for time (only one bumper was harmed in the live action role play of this situation and I swear, it was already mostly broken before I got there!).
Mark’s advice - in between ring work and cleans - was that despite my insistence to always shoulder the blame for everything man-related, this time it was the man who was very much behaving like an idiot.
Huh? This one isn’t on me??
The more I stood back and looked at it from another’s perspective, the more I saw that he was right. My fear of abandonment, my desire to have someone comeback for me, means that whenever someone mistreats me I lash out. You don’t have to be a psychologist to work out that on some subconscious level this is likely driven by the fact that once the fault lies with me I can fix it with an apology and the anxiety to see if they will return is instantly dissipated.
Because I respect this guy, because I like his presence in my life, because I don’t think he’s the demon people quickly judge him as, and more importantly because I am not a chew toy, I’m standing my ground this time. For the first time in my life I am standing steady and saying, “you know what, he did wrong here and if he wants to fix it he knows where I am”.
It is by far the most challenging part of my day right now, but also something I need to do if I’m to maintain any semblance of self-respect.
To ensure I truly got the message that I am better and stronger than the situation I am currently entangled in, we did Elizabeth (and believe me, the irony was not lost on me!).
Only did 35kg for the cleans instead of 40kg (but I’m happy, usually I’d pick 30kg) and used a band for the dips, but did it convincingly. Just this one time I got to say that Elizabeth didn’t leave me feeling bruised and battered, and like the world can be such a shitty place. Maybe I can’t compete in the real world, but throwing myself into a WOD with that name gave me some hope that if I do stick to my beliefs here I’m going to be happy. Maybe it will be with him and maybe it won’t, but either way I am going to be happy.
Girl talk: over.