|Copyrighted Image: "England: Northamptonshire:Summer Day" by Tim Blessed.|
have---probably because she was one---said, "Are you going over to the reception at DeAnna's?" She, the daughter of the deceased.
"What did you say???" Her eyes widened, as she replied, thinking I swore.
My dignity and self-respect, I maintained. I did not cower to someone who was practiced at bullying others since she was nine. It felt good, responding, not reacting. I nurtured the little Pablo who lived within, who was not allowed to speak his truth as a child. I was happy. I knew what to do, did it and was calm when I did.
My insights and strength was gotten through my time spent with Al-Anon Family Groups.
I have not seen Yolanda since. Eight years. Am I glad. And if you did the math, that's forty-five seconds with her in sixteen years---long enough.
At that spot, not only did I leave mother, but I also prayed for the toxicity of the mistreatment I experienced during my childhood, adolescence and adulthood to be buried, too. There weren't bad memories about my mom. She was loving, gentle, affectionate and warm. I would not be the person I am, without her impression upon me. My dark days of youth was what I suffered from Yolanda and my father. He was a perfectionist, but they both mistook blame, shame, guilt, fear and judgment for discipline. They did not see it for the abuse it was, and is.
How About You?
How do you handle emotional bullies? Any suggestions?