I had one of those days where something was bothering me but I didn’t realize something was bothering until way later.
It was innocuous. A friend told a story of how he defended his wife to someone who had been mean to her in the past. The key factor was that it involved a show of physical strength on his part, not really hurting this other man but, making it clear that with little effort he could and that he was doing it in defense of the woman he loves.
I have a very, very strong preoccupation with fantasies of being protected. I actually didn’t realize how strong it was until I got into a tv show where the male protagonist showed a fatherly, protective concern towards a young woman that was backed up with violence when necessary. I found myself fantasizing that this fictional man was a fictional version of myself ‘s father. That was a confusing sentence wasn’t it? I hope you can understand it anyway.
When I connected to this fictional person, I fantasized that if he had been my real father, he would have tortured my uncle into confessing what he did to me and then he would have killed him. It brought me comfort…fleeting comfort but comfort nonetheless.
Today when I heard my friend’s story…how he physically stood up for his wife because someone hurt her and that pissed him off…I felt…I don’t know what I felt because I thought I simply cheered at the thought but that wasn’t it. I was bothered underneath the surface all day but didn’t know I was bothered until I got home. A few hours after I got home I got really anxious and antsy and upset. I couldn’t figure out why, but the story kept coming back over and over and over. I finally get it…I think.
I feel sad. Really, really, really, really sad.
I want to cry so bad right now. I want someone to defend me. To hurt the one who hurt me. To stand up for me.
I think there’s something about having a male figure physically defend me that is attractive. Obvious father issues right? And it’s not sexist. I think in a good world, fathers would protect their daughters. And this isn’t really about my adult self. This is about little me who had no one to protect her.
It breaks my heart because I don’t know how it feels to have that kind of person stand up to someone who wants to hurt me and stop them. To physically stop them. I had to protect myself but I couldn’t. I was a child with no strength but my imagination and my imagination is where I stay.
Today has messed with my head.