Abi: I am the Antagonist: Or my struggle for identity. [10/30]

Today is a meandering entry of sorts. It might not be something that Arsh intended for the challenge, but I figure that those suggestions are more a guideline to work with than strict rules.


I’m finding the hardest time pulling forth happy memories, as hard as I try (and I’ve been trying for several days to only find cherished, HAPPY memories to recall). It feels so wrong though, because I know there was joy in my childhood. However, the more I grasp the more I remember why I felt betrayed, abandoned, excluded, or misunderstood… and the more I see how the people around me controlled how I viewed myself… and how those views hold as truth today in as how I perceive my personality.
Problem is, this isn’t how I thought I saw my life (well, save for the years of Depression when I was in the last few years of High School and into early adulthood). I mean, I know I had a happy home with a strong family base (even if there was tension from time to time of certain things (for dad it was religion and for mum it was just a growing friction from being around each other so much… and frankly, she has a severe lack of attention), but this is the acceptable ‘norm’ of families, especially come the teenage years when most of those disagreements occurred). I know I had good and true friends, even if in retrospect they all betrayed me at some point or were lost forever.


It’s really hard looking back sometimes. I recall how I felt about things so vividly that I thought I’d let go of. I watch the stringing of one thing to something else years later, and I start to watch how I was moulded and shaped and made into something completely different. I knew these processes had happened, but I never sat back to see the scope of it like I have in the last ten days.
I’m beginning to see the seeds of my cynicism, which while there was always a sceptic somewhere in the little Abby (the accepted spelling of my youth and family) I wasn’t always so quick to think ill of the human race.
I’m watching as Abby let’s people walk all over her in order to please them (which sadly, still happens, because regardless how I act or what I say, I really care and really do put a lot of people before myself).
I’m watching Abby searching for outside acceptance and encouragement, desperately hoping someone would acknowledge value in her…
She, and I, seems to be driven to be validated from outside sources. It happens even while I work so hard to fight this urge now that I've grown to know better. It’s like this need that I still fall victim to. I still ache for it. I want to know I exist, am seen, am heard… that I am not just the reality of my head room.


A part of me dies again when I remember the things said to me that convinced me that my dreams were shammer. I get so angry to know that I let people persuade me of something, and that I never fought for those things I wanted… but I still, still, STILL repeatedly let these outside views grow in me and suggest what I am despite how I feel.
I remember how my dad making the comment, offhandedly, about how he didn’t think parapsychology would be the best idea for me. This ended of being a core reason for not following the passion. He basically said I’d never make money from it, and while I remember reasoning that money didn’t account to happiness I let the words echo in my head until eventually I was convinced he was right.
The same thing happened with my passion for writing. This is a desire I have had my entire life. My alter egos, my daydreams, my idea always seems to hold the profession of writing. I’ve always felt myself with the writing of words than with speaking. However, I gave this dream up actively in my life some time ago and have been trying to revive. I realized that I never subconsciously let go of that dream. I recall years ago an English teacher in Junior High told me I’d never be a good writer and I really did take it to heart. I tore me up the first time it happened, but I did try to regard her as a ‘dumb bitch’ and have really grown to resent her... but the blame lies entirely in my accepting her words as truth.
I fought back, in years that came after, but I always (and still do) sought for a valid outside opinion that said differently. However, at the end of the day it still haunts me, because as much as I try to say it was a lie or an opinion based on a 14 year old girl’s writing, I still cannot convince myself to let go. [Right now Abi is beating her head on the desk trying to tell herself to stop letting it bother her: NOW… but all I am getting is a headache and feelings of pure and trembling anger.]


I let others convince me that I am wicked.
I let people convince me that I am the unpopular opinion.
I let people convince me that I am second-rate.
I let people convince me that I’m deceitful.
I let people convince me that I’m mischievous.
I let people convince me that I would never get anywhere because I never finished proper schooling.
I let people convince me that my opinions do not matter.
I let people convince me that I don’t deserve credit.
I let people convince me that I am manipulative.
I let people convince me that I never get things right.
I let people convince me that I am weak.I let people convince me that I am wrong.
I let people convince me that I am naïve.
I let people convince me that I am socially awkward.
I let people convince me that I wasn't normal.
I let people convince me that I thought outside the box.
I let people convince me I’m delusional to believe in certain things.
I let people convince me that I am ugly or fat.
I let people convince me that now I am a mother I’m suddenly uninteresting.
I let others build how I saw myself, and I embraced this person who I truly question the existence of now.


I let people treat me as a stepping stone. I offer myself to others,  whatever they need or want from me (and aim to please), and then let them treat me ill… And I never fight back against people, because what right have I to do so?
Mind you, this is what I struggle with… especially as I get older.
What say have these people on me and my life? Why have I let them build me? Where is the true me, or have I actually BECOME this person in order to bring forth that opinions others had of me?
Am I what they said I was because I felt it would please them?


Here’s the issue with this struggle though, I am happy with who I am… though I question it, I don’t mind being who I am… There are things I would change if I could, like my outside appearance and lack of aggressiveness and self-motivation… oh, yes, and that NEED for outside validation.
However, come the end of the day, when I look myself in the mirror, I can usually smile… because I feel the closest to complete as I ever have… and I do have some self-esteem, a hell of a lot more than I had growing up…


Fuck it. I’m epic…
I just yearn to validation… maybe because it would prove I was real and not some flickering phantasy on the verge of evaporation.
Could this, too, be a daydream I’m using to escape reality?