‘Do you know something, I really hate my life. And some days, I hate myself too. So…you don’t mind if I just go ahead and punch you in the stomach, do you￼? Because I hate my life and/or I hate myself, but I can’t admit to it, so I see no other recourse but ￼to desecrate your dignity.￼’
Ahh, if only abusive people were upfront and enlightened enough to be truthful. But I’ve never met one who is.￼
Instead, they sucker punch, I drop to my knees, catch my breath, and stand up as if nothing happened. ￼
That was the scenario until very recently. Now, as scary as it sometimes feels, I gather myself, breathe deeply, stand tall,￼ then verbally notate the punch and the fact that it’s a foul and inappropriate act.
Whether the action is an insult, invasive question, a dig veiled as a joke, or the all-too-frequent act of unapologetic interrupting￼, it’s imperative that I draw a line in the sand. If I don’t…who will?￼￼