It came to me while writing today, that I used to be a rock. A solid unmoving sturdy chunk of ‘being okay’ no matter what Rock; that you couldn’t shake my good nature.
I withstood false promises and never showed my disappointment, I relied on the unreliable to come through and never once stood up and walked away. I lived for years and years being the rudder in lives that seemed to be adrift and in need of my steadiness, getting splashed upon and caught in the undertow, yet remained standing with them.
I somehow felt so needed and secure to be their rock.
A rock. That was my role.
Not partner, friend, mutual exchanging, but a rock.
Something to stand upon, sit upon reliable always being there, for them...my needs, thoughts, feelings hidden under the solid hard cover.
Looking back at my rock days, being a rock star perhaps in a sick and twisted way, I see that I had no sense to move out of the way, that I didn’t have legs to move me, like a rock I waited for some one to come along and pick me up and throw me out of the relationship I was in.
It literally never occurred to me to move.
Six and a half years later I am good at moving, I am fluid like a stream, I show my emotions and voice my feelings, I am no longer stuck in the hailstorm of others peoples lives, I respond in kind to what comes my way, I move, I bend and turn…free.
I watch now other rock ladies and witness the sickening way they try to control things that are out of their control, like an alcoholics wife the promises never take root.
It is weird that the rock changes color depending upon who they are with, like a huge living breathing mood ring…they fill in the weak spot, overlook the negative and bring in the balance of what is missing. It never crosses their minds to leave, to turn and get out.
What I felt was a solid rock of good nature, was actually a solid rock victim.
The difference of how you feel inside filling up the low spots in a relationship, like you are helping, adding, growing, when if fact you are helping them remain less.
At first glance it seems like a good deed, that you are being so accommodating, but in actuality you are enabling them to treat you poorly.
It is like you are helping them slap your face again and again, while you sit as a rock.
I was proud of how much I could withstand, see it as my strength, and all it showed was how little I thought of myself.
I was a rock…I was an island….isn’t that a line in a song?
What continues to shock me is how backwards I had everything…sitting as a rock never moving, being so loyal…like a wooden lady.