There’s this thing that happens to me all the time, and I know I’m not the only one, so allow me to relieve the pressure a little for us all.

For my whole life, since I can remember, I’ve been The Bad One. The drama queen, the shit disturber, the one that makes things hard. It always comes back to that. If my feelings are hurt, it’s somehow my own fault, and I just want others to suffer with me. If I’m yelling, “I think this woman is insane and abusive!!!” I’m just making trouble. If I yell, because my normal voice doesn’t seem to be audible, I’m a bulldozer. I’m The Demon Child. And yeah, that is what I’ve been called again and again. My dad once literally told my mom that I was evil. When I was a kid. WTF.

Yes, I was a handful as a child. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it was just my personality, though. I was the second of three daughters, my dad was virtually unavailable to me emotionally, and usually physically, and I displayed pretty much all of the stereotypes that go with those two things. I wasn’t abused or neglected, but I was wicked lonely, and I had terrible self-esteem. When I got to the age when climbing trees, riding bikes, and building forts wasn’t the rage anymore, I was kinda screwed. I was weird, and desperate for companionship and attention, and I spent far more time trying to connect with people than I did on things like homework or self-care.

I turned out to be a pretty alright adult. It may have taken me a little longer to get here, but I’m pretty impressed with myself, considering. I am nice, funny, pretty smart for a girl without a high school diploma, and obsessed with being good. I swear too much, and I probably let Van watch too much TV, but I generally don’t break laws, I always root for the underdog, I’m fairly perceptive, and I want to be a good mother/wife/friend/sister/daughter/neighbor, etc. I try to listen well, and I try to talk well, and I always want to be helpful and thoughtful.

But still I find myself usually getting stuck in the box labeled The Bad One. I know this happens on a lot of levels. The Stable One. The Fragile One. And so on. These labels are really dangerous, because while they might be partially true, they do not represent the whole truth about us, and they inhibit our growth. I am stable, fragile, and yeah, sometimes kind of bad. Those other Ones could probably claim all three, too. But people choose these boxes for us, based on truths and non-truths, and then we each feel somewhat obligated to fill our roles. What do we do when The Stable One needs our help? I’ll tell you what I do, or have done. I’ve stumbled around like an idiot, because I’m supposed to be The Bad One, and I NEED The Stable One to be Stable, so that I can be Bad. Or The Fragile One is all grown up, and moving forward with her life, and is becoming stable. We should probably get the hell out of her way, and start treating her as stable, so that she can get comfortable with that role, alongside her fragility.

So, I’m Bad. But I’m also Fragile. My feelings are pretty irritatingly sensitive. I spend a lot of time feeling bummed about stuff, perhaps a dynamic between myself and someone I love that just doesn’t fit me anymore. Yet, I don’t feel like I should say it, because I don’t want to hurt anyone else, and I make peace with just bearing it, and growing around it. Maybe that’s Stable. I don’t really know.

I guess what I’m saying is, please let’s try to give each other the space to be what we are, at any given time. We are all multifaceted, and complex beings. Just because someone is Bad or Unstable doesn’t mean they will always be those things, or at least not only those things. I’ve been making an effort in the last couple of years to give people space, at least in my heart and mind, to change and grow, and to grow with them, so I can continue to say I know and understand them. I would really like the same thing, and I’m sure most of us would.

Hopefully, my ramblings make at least a teeny amount of sense. I realize some of this may seem cryptic. I’m The Vague One today, I guess. Love to all my Ones.