I wish I were in a therapy session now. I hope I get an appointment soon. Someone needs to experience my crazy. That’s the problem. Every therapist I’ve had has been fortunate and has never been caught in my symptoms. They’ve never been able to reach the damaged part of me. They’ve maybe seen me cry, some of them, but they’ve never met this me. Not even close. I need someone who triggers me. Someone who gets to experience my black-and-white-I-hate-you-don’t-leave-me, self. The one who’s caught between being an independent bad ass and a terrified needy little girl.
I hate both of them, they battle and despise each other and protect each other at the same time. Without the little girl, the bad girl would make an even larger mess of her life and would never allow anyone to get in. Without the bad girl, however, the little girl would be even more damaged than she already is because she’d be so helpless.
The bad girl wants nothing and no one. Pain isn’t foreign but it’s as welcome as love is for normals. She thrives on it. It’s what keeps her alive. She feeds on it because as long as its there is as long as she will prove that she can handle it and doesn’t need anyone. People hurt you. People leave. People are unreliable, and love is just something made up in order to give people a false sense of hope. Hope, something that also doesn’t exist. She’s feels nothing, needs nothing, wants nothing.
The little girl on the other hand, is the exact opposite of the bad ass. The little girl is like a lost child and her only goal is finding a father. She was born Daddy’s little girl but never had the Daddy she needed. She’s stuck. Stuck in her age. Stuck in her phase. She’s a typical child. No matter how many times she gets hurt, she continues being vulnerable, loving unconditionally, trusting everyone, and hoping one day the right person will finally love her unconditionally in return. She craves love, nurture, and safety and security above all else. She’s confused because she’s so innocent that the awful things in the world just make no sense to her.
With everything life throws my way, these two battle it out. It’s like a constant tug-of-war. A constant fight to get, receive, pull in, and violently keep out the very things that will hurt one and help the other, and vice versa. The world is scary for the little girl but the bad ass cares about nothing and knows no fear.
And somewhere in there is supposed to be me. I’m not sure where I am or where I fit in between the two. I feel like the rope to their tug-of-war game. I’ve managed to stay sturdy all these years but I can feel myself fraying, losing strength and durability. One day they will break me. I don’t know what that will look like but I can imagine. One of them will win. So far the bad ass has been winning. She has to almost. The little girl can’t make it on her own.
And she is definitely on her own. She always has been.