Even before I have started, this post runs the risk of being full of generalisations. I hope you will excuse this. I really don’t mean it to be this way but it’s just where my thoughts are at today. I know a good number of very good men, so don’t get me wrong. I am not, nor will I ever be a ‘man-hater’. Actually, there are many times when I prefer the company of men over women.
“So many good women have dealt with the wrong man and so many good men have dealt with the wrong woman that, by the time you two finally meet, you’re BOTH afraid of each other… so afraid, you run the risk of ending it before you’ve even given it a chance.”
I wasn’t able to establish a definitive author for this statement. More than one voice seemed to claim it as their own words and I admit I have eventually given up searching in order to focus my efforts on what it is that I want to say. Please forgive me for this, and let me know if you know for sure, who is the author. Meanwhile, the words are sadly, perhaps the story of my life.
Am I a good woman? I don’t know and I wouldn’t dare to say. I’m sure there are more than a few who would say I am not. What I do know is that I have come across the wrong man too many times in my life. More than just the wrong man, but the true determination of a wrong man (in my eyes) as a ‘creepy man’ and usually sometimes dangerous man. Certainly dangerous to me. Sometimes dangerous to me physically, but even more so, emotionally and mentally dangerous.
It is the point at which I label a man as “giving me the creeps” that I know that I am at a turning point. The best thing to do would be to run like hell, but I admit there have been times when I have been fully immersed in a relationship when I finally conclude he “gives me the creeps”. Then running like hell is still the best course of options (for me), but can be easier said than done.
Yesterday I came home and muttered to anyone who would listen:
“…(he) Gives Me The Creeps”
It was not about anyone I am in a relationship with, not the least reason being that I have previously concluded that a relationship is the last thing on this earth that I want to be in. Yes, too many ‘wrong men’ have set me on this course, but more so, and completely outside the scope of this post, I have simply decided that a relationship of any sort, with man or woman, is not what I want for my life.
This particular man maybe not be relationship material (for want of a better phrase) but still can stand as a threat to my personal safety and wellbeing.
When anyone who would listen to my mutterings hears me say “he gives me the creeps” they know that this is a turning point for me. I can hear my own gut instinct speaking (finally) and take it as a fair warning, a threat to my wellbeing, particularly my emotional wellbeing and I should run like hell. That would be the logical thing to do. Many times it is exactly what I have done regarding both creepy men and women. But there is another option. It may not be the most sensible option but it is often what comes to mind first.
My experience of ‘wrong men’ (sadly more than one) has left me carrying the burden of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). The summary of this you will find recorded in many posts on my last blog Infinite Sadness… or hope? so I won’t go into detail here. As healthy (and recovered) as I usually like to see myself, there are still triggers to my feeling of being unsafe. They can come up in all kinds of environments, but they often eventually carry the statement “he gives me the creeps”.
When those words come from my lips I immediately
want need to hunker down in my own version of a safe house/bunker. I want need to shut all the doors and windows, pull the curtains, unplug the (landline) telephone and go off-line. Before those words are uttered my gut instinct has not kicked in. I have perhaps been oblivious, maybe naive. I have wanted to be friends with anyone… until now when I am reminded that there are more than just one creep in this world (sad but true).
The events in my life that lead to the PTSD were across a long period of time. I came to know that “safe house/bunker” existence as normal. Yes, that’s right, I did say normal. I was constantly afraid. In terms of relationships, I feared that every man was a ‘wrong man’ and would eventually turn into a ‘bad man’ who
could would hurt me. I couldn’t trust anyone. I had determined that my gut instinct could not be trusted and that every situation was one in which I could be would be in danger.
I’m not quite so afraid nowadays (after a whole lot of therapy and time), but that feeling that ‘a person who gives me the creeps’ is the first step to me feeling I am in danger. And it can come for any number of indicators, sometimes just even a hunch.
Of course, I know the reality to be that I am not always in danger when I determine someone to be ‘a creep’ but it’s still a turning point in how I regard a person. I admit that when I came home muttering this about someone I encountered again yesterday, I knew I needed to be careful around him.
Yes, careful in the sense of keeping myself safe but also careful in the sense of not going overboard in barricading my life. The difficulty is in getting the right balance and recovery from PTSD never taught me how to get that balance. I guess balance is something that comes with time and experience. Meanwhile, I realise I am not as recovered from PTSD as I thought, but rather I live and fight it every day. Oh, and yes, the barricades are up!
One last note, if you’re reading this and “think this song is about you”, (yes, I’m borrowing the lyrics) please don’t. This
song post is not about you.
“Alone with thoughts of what should have long been forgotten, I let myself be carried away into the silent screams of delirium.”
― Amanda Steele,
Thanks for reading