You have no power over me.

 

There is no excuse for emotional torture.

You can doubt someone’s motives and judge their actions, you can push them away, or expect too much of them, but holding someone’s heart and mind at ransom through fear is the lowest form of manipulation.

I suppose if I was of the doubting nature that my tormentor is I would have seen it earlier. I can’t say I wasn’t amply warned by those around me, but I chose to make up my own mind. I’m the kind of girl who lets a stranger in off the street to use the toilet in my house, the kind of girl who always says ‘hello’ to the Bill Oddie doppelganger who hangs outside the shopping centre swigging from his brown paper bag and leering a passersby, the kind of girl who always has, and will always believe everyone deserves a second chance, everyone should be listened to and every side of the story has valid points, no matter how insensible they may seem to others, and as such, I leave myself open to be hurt. That is just me, and it’s something I have come to accept of life.

My acceptance of the fact however, could not have prepared me for the most recent chapter of my life. Months of emotional torture has left me filled with doubt, intolerance and distrust, but more painful than anything it has left me questioning my most stone-writ belief that no one should be judged for things they say through emotional distress, it has thrown into doubt my belief in the other side of the story.

Here I sit, after yet another sleepless night of desperately trying to understand the headspace of my harasser, still unable to comprehend why, or how, a person could justify instilling such a deep sense of fear in someone they call a friend, and even as they harass and torment, how they can say, “it’s going to be ok.” Once you cross the threshold into trying to destroy someone else’s life, “ok” is probably the one thing it is never going to be.

I have been bullied, lied to, accused, verbally abused and taken advantage of. The realisation that our friendship was merely a ruse to set me up for a major fall suddenly has me seeing every conversation we had as what it truly was, a means for garnering as much information as possible about me to hurt me, as he believes the world has hurt him.

And I, in my infinite naivety, fell for it.

I should have started doubting at about the time I was told to hold a lighter to my arm for fifteen seconds to get a taste of what my afterlife would be like if I didn’t give myself to Christ. Or perhaps, the stories he told of every person in his life, including our mutual friends and his mother, and how they deliberately hurt him were little pieces of the puzzle that I should have used immediately, instead of putting them to the side because they didn’t fit anywhere.

I have listened to his desperate stories of heartache. I have listened to him complain about people I have never met, the same people who just the other day sat in the background of his last phonecall jeering and laughing at my distress. I have heard him spitting in anger down the phone, calling me names I can’t even repeat without averting my eyes, over something he heard me say in a dream (it was a DREAM, it’s not REAL!!! get it?) I have listened to him tell me repeatedly how terribly the world treats him, and how badly he wants to run away from every single person in his life so he never has to talk to his horrible friends and family again, then in the same conversation cry about being so lonely because no one likes him.

I have listened to his screaming accusations down the phone, that I am just as horrible as his parents and other friends are to him and I have boggled at his question, “You just used me to be happy – didn’t you?” Isn’t that what friends are there for? And didn’t my friendship also bring you happiness at some point in your miserable, hate-filled life?

When he came to my home town my family accepted him as a friend, because I trusted him. We trusted him to befriend our children, we played taxi driver and tour guide for the week, we cooked him meals and we entertained him, a service I was happy to give in the name of friendship. We were repaid with accusations that the week was engineered to be an exercise in flaunting our family in his face, because we knew how desperately he wanted one of his own.

Time after time he told me, and others, in grossly expletive language to get out of his life and leave him alone because he was much happier before he had to deal with any of us, and time after time I would listen to his apologies and accept them, forgiving his behaviour and the pain it caused me in the name of my “other-side-of-the-story” motto. It has become clear to me that he recognises a sensitivity in me, and has used that to control me, perhaps because he can control no one else in his life, perhaps it just makes him feel good to exact revenge upon those he believes have it better than him, and no one else but me would put up with being treated like that.

I know that people in emotional distress do not always think clearly, and can not always see the people who want to be there to help them through the blindness the distress causes them, but when they use their pain as an excuse to instill fear in those who are willing to sit quietly and just be there if they’re needed, it sickens me.

And so I have to say to the world that I cannot sit here and watch while he takes the steps he thinks will ruin my life, just because he has no control over his own, or his temper. I will draw strength from the people in my life who are supporting me, my parents, my husband and my dearest friends. I will surround myself with people who will not use my childhood fears to scare me, people who return the kindness that I try so hard to put out into the universe.

There is NO EXCUSE for stressing someone to the point where they blackout into convulsions, or threatening them to the degree that they are scared to walk out the door, or fear their childrens safety. There is no reason to treat someone with such malice simply because you do not get what you want out of them, and ther is no human decency or christianity in a person who will treat someone like that.

He who is too weak to strike at the world will strike at those they perceive to bve weaker than them.

This is my story, and I am in control.

In the words of Sarah to the Goblin King –

“You have no power over me.”

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~ by Alissa Anderton on March 2, 2011.

2 Responses to “You have no power over me.”

  1. You have absolutely smashed the nail on the head…:)
    And those few simple words at the end….for future reference please remember them 🙂

  2. WOW. I don’t know who this clown is, or was, but….toxic much? Lis, I’d rather be a person who trusts and believes that everyone deserves a chance, maybe even a second chance depending on who they are to you, and occasionally getting burnt, than the sort of person he sounds like. Chin up, be strong, and stay beautiful.

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