When my hurt speaks for me

I am the master at keeping things to myself.  People hurt my feelings on a daily.  Being sensitive is a difficult thing.  Being a people pleaser and always making sure that everyone else is ok, on top of being sensitive is a disaster waiting to happen.  It feels more like a curse then the anything else.  Sometimes, my hurt speaks for me.

Keeping feelings locked up inside is my superpower.  The kryptonite to my superpower is that sooner or later, the feelings explode.  Always at the wrong time.  Always the wrong way.  They just combust and the control is gone.

Last week I learned some devastating news.  I wasn’t hurt physically, but emotionally I was crushed.  I held onto it mostly because it was knowledge learned through confidence and I didn’t feel I could act on it.  So I held it in.  For four days I cried, and processed and had imaginary conversations in my head on the best way to handle it.  My brain said, let it go, it doesn’t concern you directly and it shouldn’t impact your situation.  My heart, however, was broken.  It was a familiar pain and one that I hadn’t learned to handle the last time.  It brought back feelings of not being enough.  Good enough.  Available enough.  Loving enough.  Sexy enough.  Pretty enough.  Strong enough.  Not being enough.  My insecurities roared like an angry bear and there was nothing I could do.

It festers like a sore in a well-used part of the body.   My attempt to ignore it came seeping through almost undetected.  Snarky comments.  Passive aggressive responses.  Then I was called out on it.  Direct and to the point.  At that moment I lost control and unleashed four days of heartbreak and sadness and insecurities.  It was directed at the right person but the approach was all wrong.  Instead of possibly getting the answers I wanted, or maybe even the apology I may have deserved I was met with silence.  And the silence continues.

Knowing I handled it badly makes it is worse.  It could have been a conversation had I just been patient.  Insecurity is an evil feeling.  It comes from places we don’t expect sometimes but it also comes from those familiar places that are devastating.  It makes us act and respond the opposite of how we want or intend.  It makes us crazy.

I’m sorry Daddy.  I’m still trying to learn how to communicate when I’m hurt and broken and need your help in dealing with your decisions.  I want to be stronger.  I want to be more confident.  I want to trust I will always be your Toy.  My insecurities are stronger than I am.  I am working on it.

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