My First Line of Defense

One of my best friends observed that I have a very fortified first line of defense--my aura of unapproachableness is so intimidating. She said most people are scared of me because I am very intimidating--that I look like I'm going to bite your head off anytime. I look like I'm saying, "don't come near me unless you have something worthwhile to offer!"

Now I do tend to agree that she's right. That's because she IS right.

Years of abuse and betrayal by people who should be taking good care of me as a little girl has honed my outward defense to an art form. I do show my distrust of people. I am always on guard with an instinct so sharp and honed to recognize potential abusers of any kind or just recognize people who are not being themselves and thus not worthy of my trust. I mean, anytime a person has to put on a face or a mask is a sure symptom that they are hiding something, right? I can smell a poser like a hound dog can smell your unique scent. And my instincts have never, EVER betrayed me. In fact, my safety has been ensured many times because of my gut feelings. So I HAVE to trust it. It has never led me stray. I just cannot doubt or second-guess.

My first line of defense is quite formidable. I have to admit that I've probably lost a good amount of potentially good friends because of it but I am willing to sacrifice them as 'collateral damage' just so I can feel 'safe'.

Once I let you through that first line of defense, you will discover in due time that there is no second line. Or third. I have nothing past the first. I am extremely vulnerable and tender. I will not put up a fight to protect myself because I don't have any tools or wherewithal to help myself. Basically, I am merely a pile of moosh that anyone can kick.

So my only defense has to be effective.

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Now I am going to mention my coping mechanism for people who hurt me over and over. I make my heart be very, very hard. Then I visualize the furthest place anyone can possibly reach. I dig a hole there and bury all my pain and hurt. I also bury my feelings. Then I walk away and tell myself it's over. Then I try to erase them from my mind by not talking, thinking or worrying about them. And then in time, my heart is a clean slate....and I no longer feel anything tender for those people. And that's what happens.

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When going through a difficult relationship with someone you love more than life itself who has betrayed you and has said many hurtful and terrible things about you to others who were not even involved and thus you can't undo, my first line of defense is withdrawal---because trust is breached. But when it is someone who is genetically linked to you, it's devastation in its fullest form. I've never really experienced this after I left my homeland and made a life for myself with a wonderful companion so experiencing this when totally unexpected blindsided me. I don't know if I have the coping mechanisms to fix the situation because although forgiveness is easy, patching up the tremendous stab wounds so they will heal takes time. And the restoration of trust was unexpectedly more difficult than I expected. I thought I could just sweep the hurt under the rug but I am so totally wrong. It surfaces when you least expect it. So this is a new experience for me...one that I hope I will never experience again. Love so deeply felt allows forgiveness but how do I heal my broken heart by myself? It seems that I need help from that very person who hurt me but I find that I have to reach and scrape the bottom of my spirit to help and teach that person how to help me. That is tremendous, exhaustive work that just sucks everything I have to the point of emptiness. I don't know how to survive this yet. So I think my first line of defense is to withdraw into my usual dark place and wait for a hand to pull me out. That is where I am right now as far as this phenomenon is concerned.

And as far a second line of defense, I look to my Saviour to ease my burden. In time, I know He will give me clarity. And I ask for a quick recovery from the deep, painful wounds.

My third line of defense is drugs. Not hard drugs. But my doctor did give me some xanax for situations like this when I can't sleep and I cry all day. My sugar level for some reason goes up and my bp goes crazy when I'm in distress. Anxiety attacks abound and my heart goes pumping and I can't breath. That's when I have to take my drugs. Stress levels make cortisol levels rise as well so that's why I get inflamed and bloated. Stress is hard on my diabetes and hypertension. So physically, it sucks when you're old.

Speaking of which, it has been over a year since I've had my surgery. My incision looks ugly. But it's interesting that a large part of the area is numb. Many times I'll feel an inch or a twinge of pain but when I try to touch where I think I itch or throb, I can't find it because I am numb. This seems to be a perfect metaphor for what I feel in my heart right now. I hurt, I hurt but when I try to fix it, I don't really know exactly where it is because I feel numb.


 A few weeks ago, I went to see my surgeon for a year check and just having her inspect and touch my scars and then tell me that it is healing well gave me such a boost. Perhaps that is also a metaphor for how things should work--the person who cut the wound should inspect and reach outwards to reassure me that things are going to be alright. But that is not possible because that sort of repertoire may not be in that person's toolbox because the other 'more important' things in that person's life takes more precedence than finding those tools. That is what happens when the patient is a low-income patient. The care is woefully lacking because low-ranked patients don't really matter. So my plan is to move on, close that chapter and find a comfortable distance.