Bad superpowers and stray dogs

It seems I have a power, a big power. I will, after a little while you’ve known me, come out with something that is just wrong. Wrong intonation, wrong timing, wrong on all counts. The look I get from the people on the receiving end is what tells me it’s MY power. I wish I were a painter so I could draw it for you. The look is one of surprise, mixed in with disgust and subdued fury. The surprise is because, as people will say “you seem to be so NICE, but with others only eh!?”. The disgust is… I don’t know, actually. There must be something in that wrong thing I say that is completely repellent. Maybe my face changes too? I don’t know. But that’s what happens. Occasionally (because I realise the moment I’ve said it, I just feel it, I’ve said that wrong thing, in the wrong tone, –wrong for short-) my outburst is followed by a loving smile, a normal response, no shock. That only happens to the best of people, my best people, and when I see it I feel like gushing to them and hugging them and saying thank you! thank you! You forgave me! Or You didn’t judge me through this!

The greatest gift some people think they do for me is ignore it. But I know when the feeling you receive from it is what it is and you ignore it. I feel everything.

What happens with this power, now that I’m 43 and I’ve had enough time to see it in retrospect, is that people little by little stop loving you. I’ve had it said to me quite plainly very recently. Every single time you do that wrong thing, they love you less and less. So all the talk, all the crying, all the soul searching and the suicidal mea culpa and all the truth seeking you do in an effort to understand it, dispel it, stop it, is for nothing. Because you have no time. In the meantime, you are corroding the other person’s love. Well, I have been corroding that person’s love. If anybody reading feels the same, I’d love to know.

Then something else happens, so long as they stick around, if you haven’t corroded all their love and they abandoned you, because their love is just… gone. If they do stick around, they feel entitled to mistreat you. They will say things to you that if they saw someone say them to some cute actress in a film they’d cringe and say “ooohhh that wasn’t nice!”. But it’s ok to say them to you, because you did wrong, their love has been corroded, so you deserve it. They no longer apologise about anything. But they will, graciously, allow you to remain near them if you are sweet to them, in return for what’s left of their love, in return for that warmth, that surface sheen of caring that is all you have left.

But there is a new element, or rather one that I seem to be born with: See, I am a survivor. And survivors are difficult to deal with because they are not afraid, they know they have survived in the past and they know they can survive again. They know they do have much to lose, but they survived that loss before, time and time again. So at one point a part of me yells that it’s not fair. It’s not fair to say “I will stop mistreating you, or I may continue to love you, as long as you stop that wrong thing”.

Because it’s like telling a dog you will love him to bits as long as he stops barking, wagging his tail unnecessarily, and being so needy.

I mean, it’s a dog.

Ok I’ll try lying here like a carpet for your pleasure, but sooner or later I might just say you know what? Better a stray dog than a stifled one.

And because now I feel better for writing this I will end with this wonderful story about a stray and a happy ending.

Click on the pic

An adventurer who gave a meatball to a scruffy dog in Ecuador got more than he bargained for when the stray joined him and his teammates for the rest of their gruelling trek.

Little did Mikael Lindnord know, when he took pity on the canine during the 430-mile race with his four-strong team, that a week later he would be arranging for Arthur to come home to Sweden with him.

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10 thoughts on “Bad superpowers and stray dogs

  1. I didn’t, but then again, there are things I am careful with: I was taught that when facing certain situations with kids and violent drinking ex husbands that it was best for the records never to show that you could be a risk to yourself or others, if you didn’t want to risk losing your children (social services are WILD in Italy, where I used to live and deal with this years ago). So that, combined with a long standing terror of mental hospitals, has meant I have become extremely careful of how I present my situation: “I do need help. But NOT that much. I need help being in control but ACTUALLY I am in perfect control.” Stuff like that. Also, my ex husband also taught me how dangerous it was to give anybody ammunition that they could throw back at you. Long story, I’ll get to it. But the point is, I am very tiptoey when asking for help from anything that keeps a record. Does that make sense? Like if you didn’t want to tell your doctor your smoke in case you ever draw up some private health insurance.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. That is understandable but you still need to seek professional help to insure that you do not have any serious mental health issues.

      As I understand it, specifically with insurance with an employer, legally they cannot deny benefits due to a pre-existing condition.

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  2. really hope you can see a psychiatrist. Idk where you are or how things work … the NHS in the UK drove me to despair, here in SA the state system is impoverished in a serious way. I don’t have medical aid/insurance, but paying to see my psychiatrist every 1 to 3 months has turned out to be the best money I ever spent. So I hope you are somewhere that you can get good help. And you’re not a git.

    And yes about taking it back etc. I read some research that said bipolar people react positively to negative things – it makes sense to me and I think might explain the things I’ve fucked up.

    We probs shouldn’t even be let loose with pinecones.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Amen to that 🙂 (the pinecones)
      1 to 3 months? That might actually be affordable. I am in the UK, and yes the system makes me despair but I am nevertheless grateful that is free. I realised I should stop being so grateful for the GP to have given me free drugs those months ago, and actually try and be brave and ask to be seen. I have to overcome the impulse of always wanting to appear as the “good girl, good mum, etc”. Thanks for the encouragement x

      Liked by 1 person

  3. ❤ lovely Arthur.

    I wonder if the wrong thingy is bipolar. I've always wondered if social awkwardness is part of it … I used to wonder (for that and other reasons) if I was autistic but my shrink said def not. I mean, we bipolar people have great empathy and so on, but yeah me too – every so often I feel like I just threw a hand grenade.

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    1. That is why I am fighting my every survival instinct and actually going to try to get the GP to see a psychiatrist or a psychologist or someone more qualified than a counsellor or a GP to tell me what’s up with me, and either get a diagnosis, or something, or for her/him to tell me: “NOPE! You’re just a git that’s all”. Either way I need to know. I fear too much money would be involved because I am not dangerous enough to be sent there on government money… but I’ll get started. Again. 🙂
      My appointment is in a couple of days, let’s see where it goes.

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    2. And yes, the hand grenade, I love that image. And immediately wishing you could take it back too? And only realising it was a hand grenade and not, say, a pinecone, after you launched it? Ugh. I’ve come a long way, at leas I now hold back and not throw a barrage of granades in increased anger and rush of adrenaline and then say “oops. soory?” 😀

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