Self – part III

I will make this disclaimer on any and all posts titled Self. I do not know many of my followers personally, but I do know some. And all of the followers I know are from different realms of my life. If you feel you may be uncomfortable reading personal stuff – STOP HERE. If not – let’s go.

Good Morning Campers! Did you ever stop and think about why you are the way you are? I don’t mean the genetics of eye color, height, etc. I mean things like personality. Are they part of the genetic package or are they part of the way you were reared as a child or does your personality change and grow with life experiences?

I wish I had that answer for you and for me, but I don’t. I’m sure there is some type of study out there that would say it’s genetics, another one that says it’s the way a child is reared, another will say it’s life experiences and yet another that says it’s all of the above. So what’s my point? I’m not entirely sure! However, recently I have been scrutinizing why I am the way I am. Why do I react to stuff the way I do? Why do I feel the way I feel? Deep shit, right?!

I’ve previously written about growing up in a house with a perfectly beautiful sister and how that impacted me. I felt I had to become flirty and funny to get attention. I did and still do have to be careful that I don’t cross the line with the funny part of my personality. I never wanted to be the funny fat girl that over did it and became the obnoxious fat girl that is just trying to get attention anyway she can. Although, I will admit here that I do feel like the obnoxious fat girl in many social instances.

I have also been questioning how my personality affects how people perceive me. And perhaps how they feel they can or can’t approach me, talk to me, etc. Who cares, right? I do.

I was recently cleaning out some drawers at home and came across folder. I knew what was in the folder. I told myself not to open it. I told myself to burn it in the fire pit. But I opened it. And it hit me, like a slap in the face. I was pissed off, hurt, scared, embarrassed, humiliated, fucking irate. It’s a folder filled with notes, cards, letters and emails from a person who was first my co-worker and then my supervisor for 26 of my 32 (and counting) years of employment. Why do I blame myself for this occurring? Why did he think he could share his feelings for me? Why did he think I would be interested? Why, why, why? What did I do to make that happen? Was it because I am too flirty? But I’m that way with everyone. Was it because I talk to much and share too much? But there are people at work I have talked and shared far more with. What gave him the right to create an uncomfortable work environment for me? Why did I allow him to perpetuate a relationship to others that didn’t exist. Why did people believe this? What did I do? Why didn’t I try harder to stop it? Where was the #metoo movement when I needed it. Why did I let the political “good old boys” scare me into not pushing harder? Why was I threatened with “PA is a fire at will state”? How is that okay? But what was it that I did to make this happen? Why didn’t I govern myself differently? How is it fair that I let it impact personal relationships? Christ, some days I really question every decision I ever made. What do I do about it? Higher ups knew and did nothing. My job was threatened. I needed my job! A young family, a mortgage, three kids, two of which who have/had medical issues and needed insurance, family members that were too close to see what was happening, small town politics – I let it all control me and I did nothing. I sat back and took it.

I know this “experience” enhanced my overall lack of self-esteem. My God, I was fat and this person was pursuing me. Part of me thought I must be imagining it. I am not or was not a person who was pursued, certainly not being a fat, flirty girl. So, I got fatter. But it still continued. I was pregnant three times, but still it continued. I changed how I behaved, what I shared, what I allowed people to see – but still it continued. I don’t think I can explain in words or otherwise how this seriously changed me. But it did. It will always be with me, it will always make me question me.