A few days ago, I had lunch with an old friend. She admitted she was worried about bumping into her ex, who presumably still lives in Davis.
“I’ve been rehearsing in my head what I’d say to him,” she confessed.
“I do that all the time,” I admitted.
And I do. I rehearse arguments in my head rather chronically. I think it’s a mixture of being a worrier/PTSD sufferer and a conflict avoider. My brain is convinced that if it worries and plans enough, it can solve things and avoid conflict and the things that lead to PTSD.
It can’t, of course–and my head spinning excessively in circles makes my body sick, but my brain won’t listen to me when I tell it to stop.
So when I happen to think of exes (I see something one gave to me, hear a song that reminds me of them, listen to a tale of woe that sounds familiar), my head starts rehearsing what I would say to them.
It’s not every ex–mostly the recent ones and the ones I might have unfinished business with, emotionally. My brain knows that I didn’t get to have my say.
“You were rude to my friends,” it says.
“Would it have killed you to come to my place sometimes?”
“Dating you was the worst mistake I ever made.”
And that’s it, really.
It all has way less to do with these men than it has to do with me.
My anger, my prepared speeches–they’re a form of projection.
It’s me I’m actually mad at.
Why didn’t I stand up for myself?
Why did I think I didn’t deserve better?
Why did I let you treat me this way?
Until I can answer, I guess my brain will keep scripting.
