It’s hard for people to get things wrong about me, because I’m that lady standing in front of you in line at the DMV or the grocery store who’ll tell you her life story before you can resist. I don’t keep things private or secret. I’m not afraid of being judged. I’ve climbed a jagged, rocky, mountain. I’ve fallen a few times, and have the scrapes, bruises, and scars to show for it. But I’ve gotten this far and that’s something. So I just put it all out there.
Now, with my history of shitty relationships, there were definitely those who thought that I was desperate for a man. I can’t really blame them for thinking that. I was always looking for someone to treat me like I had some value. My family didn’t treat me that way when I was in their custody. I got married at 18, and he certainly didn’t treat me as if I had value. But I don’t need to retell that story.
But I wasn’t desperate. I was too nice. My therapist told me that’s why I have anxiety. I was always afraid of hurting people or disappointing anyone. I stayed in relationships for stupid reasons, mostly because I thought that’s what was expected of me. I didn’t want to upset my mother or my siblings, or I didn’t want to hurt the partner. It was never that I thought I needed the man.
So…. yeah. That’s what people get wrong about me. I was never desperate. I was just too nice.