I make no claims to benevolence. For my first 40 years, my default behavior was often diminishing and hurtful. Openly aggressive, harsh, and raging. I hated how reactive and hurtful I could be. But decades of mistreatment taught me only to mistreat, not how to respond appropriately to mistreatment or treat others with consistently high regard.

What I couldn’t have known was that the behavior being modeled at home was also being carefully contained. Without any meaningful contrast of kindness, mercy, or respect, I didn’t recognize the behavior as irregular.

I’ll always be sensitive, with my tightly wound nervous system basically on the outside of my body—easily overstimulated and dysregulated. But NOW I understand how to soothe and regulate myself.

Struggling to regulate one’s emotions, however visibly expressed, should not be confused with exhibiting contempt or disrespect for another person.

I get to distance myself from people who consider diminishing words or behaviors acceptable. And it’s been decades since I said or did a mean thing. It seems a ridiculous brag, but it’s quite the overcoming and miracle.

One of many things that differentiated me from my family—and the similar relational patterns I later sought out—was that I didn’t know to conceal cruelty.

My sister would scold, “You just don’t get it.” Straight facts. I super didn’t get it.

What I did get: Apparently, it was okay to say and do cruel and damaging things to me. Because if you did, that was my fault, as my shittiness made you behave that way.

This became my relational template, shaping my life’s trajectory.

I can’t help but wonder why nobody was concerned enough to get me help. Only judge, punish, judge, repeat.

Actually… 🤔 I think I understand why professional guidance was not provided. Getting me help might have meant examining what was happening at home, rather than continuing to treat me as THE problem.

And why was I deemed the sinful one?

But seriously—for those who know to hide it, what excuse even is there?