You have expectations, even when you swear you don’t have expectations of something you’ll never have to face anyway. You see yourself in ways you believe make you a unique you. You’ve experienced things that you think make you have a different perspective. Then you’re faced with NO…you’re the same. You’re eerily the same. At times you’re inferiorly the same. The same cliche that’s been played out a million times for everyone to notice except you. The things you thought were you, the things you thought weren’t you, even the things you swore were so personal they had to be uniquely to you…No. Just no. That’s not how it is. You are one of many variations of the same repetitive cliche story, the same repetitive woman.
The truth is, that’s disappointing, it’s defeating, it’s disillusioning, it’s difficult to swallow. There’s a lot more to it but damn the reality of that, it STINGS. For me it makes me question who I spent so much time rebuilding myself into. Was I becoming a confident, satisfied, accomplished, good adult woman? Or was I playing? Playing a part women play, the survivor. Look at me, I was abused and persevere. Cliche. Look at me, men scare me but I’ll buy and work at a bar. Cliche. Look at me I’m in my 50’s but if I wear braids, tattoo, have tattoos, dress in an unconventional way I like, and live life unedited and enthusiastically I will shine through. Cliche. So cliche. So pick me girl. Sad. My behavior is partially caused by actual brain damage and it still falls into the damaged, rebuilding, vulnerable, *I’ve got my moxie and my jean jacket and my plants and my non conservative/non traditional appearance and my quirky hobbies* script. Word for word. I’ve felt actual shame. I thought I was REALLY being me and then I finally looked around, and also had it cruelly pointed out to me, that I’M, you guessed it, just a cliche. It’s part of my anger, at myself and also at the outside world. So much anger. This cliche person, these cliche women like me are born of trauma, and sometimes that trauma can be the same, but the coping with it is very different. The narrative is very different. The intent, the goal, and the gain is very different. Sometimes nefariously different. Trauma, damage, helplessness, isn’t an act, and shouldn’t be used in a toolkit. That’s a story for another day though. Probably another story that’s not quite cohesive just like this one. I’ll puzzle it out.
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