When I was a kid, my father was a master at emotional abuse. He was so skilled at it, it seemed as though he was trained as to the most effective methods. In actuality, it was likely a coincidence, and he was a frustrated parent who just let his emotions run away with him.
My father got us to feel so terribly about ourselves by making us berate ourselves. When he, like every other parent in history, would ask, "Why did you do that?" (or the alternate, "Why /didn't/ you do that?"), "I don't know" or "I forgot" were not acceptible, but there were a number of acceptible answers:
because I'm stupid
because I'm lazy
because I can't do anything right
because I'm no good
because I'm bad
For years and years and years, all of the formative years of my psyche and my identity, these little digs at myself rolled off my tongue freely. Not saying them was a one-way ticket to getting whacked, and so it became a whole lot easier to just say the words. I didn't know how quickly and powerfully I would come to believe them, or how easily it would be to slip into the script when I was frustrated about something in my own life.
It's been several years since I've even had a glimmer of one of these thoughts when I've screwed up, gotten someone upset, or become frustrated with myself. I'm very proud of those several years, and there are no words for how whole I feel without them. There is one residual effect, though - I have zero tolerance for people that I'm close to berating themselves. I can't /stand/ it.
If I ever came to A. with a concern about our relationship, he would begin berating himself, and I would go ballistic. He would say he was selfish or bad or stupid, and I would be adamant about the fact that I hadn't said that, that I didn't think that, that it wasn't true. If it continued, I would have to leave the situation. The problem is that even though I know that I didn't say those things, I wonder if the person is saying them because they think that's what I want or need to hear. That would make me the abuser. And anyone who knows me know that my Number Two Fear (after Failure, of course) is Being An Abuser.
I just can't do it. I can't listen to people berate themselves, especially when I'm somehow involved in the situation. It... freaks me out, for lack of a better term.
Okay, story time's over. Night.
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