I pride myself on being "brutally honest" on this blog despite its many readers and my natural will for introversion and privacy. I am normally not ashamed of the truth--take for example, the divorce, or my anti-theism/atheism, or my depression/suicide issues, or any number of other ugly subjects that make this blog what it is (and me, who I am.) Still, this is something I've not touched on despite it being on my mind lately.
And there's another reason, not just the "is this something I should really be making public?" dilemma. The other thing is that this is supposed to be a year of self-love and my blog was supposed to reflect that. While I've come miles and miles, I'm still pretty low on the self-esteem scale and I know I need to catch up on some self-love posts. The thing is I feel shitty lately, and you can only mime your way through so many "I'm pretty" affirmations while riding off the fact that your friends like you and your boyfriend thinks your massive thighs are the greatest thing on the planet (thanks Henri.) Having nice photos of yourself and your adorable friend helps a little, too.
So I'm going to get this off my chest, and then we can move on toward happier things. June is going to be a kickass month, and while May hasn't been terrible in the slightest, for some reason I'm glad and relieved to see it go.
With that said, let's talk about abuse. But not just any old kind of abuse. Female abuse. Not directed -at- females, but done BY females. Weird topic? Maybe. I'm active on Reddit and I subscribe to a few men's rights groups there because I find their information really fascinating. One recurring thing that I see popping up is news articles, blog entries, legal situations, etc., in which men are abused by women. Physically and mentally. Their position is that females can be just as violent as men and the repercussions are not as severe, and society sees the idea of "violent women" as a kind of joke on manhood. There's a lot of debate on the issue that I stay out of, but reading some stories about girlfriends/wives who have hit their significant other and caused a lot of emotional pain has made me think of my own past.
When I was 18, before I moved to Utah, I was extremely unstable. Just out of foster care with nowhere to go and no one to help me, I kind of ruined everything. I was in a relationship for just under a year to another 18 year old and god bless our ignorant young minds, we were horrible to each other. In a very abusive way.
It started off with small things of course, insults and arguments, then escalated to hitting, throwing things, really terrible Lifetime movie drama stuff. It ended up with him being arrested and me moving to Utah. We've reconnected and apologized and now everything is fine, but if there is one thing in my life that I truly regret and am ashamed for, it's how I acted. I was an adult. I should have known better. Even coming from an abusive home was no excuse. I'm still horribly ashamed of how violent and volatile and sick I was.
So yes, I absolutely believe females can be abusive because I know personally just what angry women are capable of. There's no sugarcoating it, despite what society feels. It's horrible to know that I was an abuser. I know that it happened at a very difficult time in my life, and up until that point I'd only seen others in relationships and they were abusive (my dad is about as aggressive as a person could ever get) but those excuses don't cut it for me. I've been in a few fights over the years for self-defense only, and I always have to stop and think before the situation, "Am I doing the right thing?" I always try to talk the person down or leave before something happens. Usually this works, but there have been a few occasions where I was trapped or someone else was in danger of getting hurt and I had to step in. The point is, I am capable of violence and I am capable of hurting people.
Not that I'd ever do that and I have never ENJOYED it...even when I was in my bad relationship at 18 I hated and despised every moment of being there. I really had nowhere else to go, no car, no job, no nothing, so I felt like a trapped wild animal most of the time. Utah was my salvation. Still, I don't think anything or any circumstance justifies what I did. I'm not perfect, and just knowing that I have the capability to be physically violent scares and bothers me sometimes. Most memories I have of my father, and quite a few of my mother (she was a violent woman too, to her kids anyway) involve them hitting or at least making fun of, somebody. I can't imagine what it would be like to be a man, being abused by a woman, and then not coming forward for fear of people laughing their ass off for you being a "sissy."
Just food for thought. I am a female telling you that females can be aggressive and hurt men in exactly the same ways that men can hurt women. No one is exempt from violence. And for all of my strengths, I worry and feel terrible for the ability I have to hurt people. Maybe like the rest of my family I should just be locked in a cage for a long amount of time.