THE GARDEN PATH
Without ever stopping to actually smell the roses, the attitude I formed at an early age blossomed when I was old enough to start being interested in the opposite sex. We all know a rose by any other name would still smell as sweet and every rose has its thorns! BUT instead of picking roses carefully, I always seemed to like the ones with the most thorns. It wasn't until I was somewhere around 40 something that I even questioned the sanity in my picking the same rose, however from different gardens over and over again with the same result. As I look back over all my "shouldn'ts", "couldn'ts" and "wouldn'ts", one American Beauty remains at the top of the list. He, I so affectionately call "The Anti-Christ" while others called him "Salmonella".
I could probably dismiss my error in judgment where he is concerned as being the result of abruptly stopping my use of illegal drugs after 16 years of being high every day and being in a weakened state of mind, BUT I know that wouldn't be a true assessment as to why I became involved with someone who took pleasure in hurting people and in teaching people lessons. I think it could be more easily summed up in having to do with my wanting to punish myself and me never feeling as though I deserved to have a real shot at happiness. What better way to insure those things than to hook up with someone who is cruel and abusive? Someone who would teach me all those lessons I needed to learn and more...
One might be quick to pat anyone on the back for quitting drugs, but modifying a behavior doesn't modify the reason the addiction was present in the first place. Most people in this situation simply trade addictions over time to fill the void. In my case, I traded drugs for work and the creme da la creme of abusive relationships. Salvatore (said with an Italian accent) and The Driftwood Inn became my new drugs of choice for a fun-filled five years.
Gratitude statement: I'm grateful for the fear (rosaphobia) I developed of abusive people and situations because it's a fear I can rely on to act as a compass to show me where not to go.
All gibberish within ©2004-2010 Mildred Ratched Memoirs.