Things I've learned from counselling #2
Jan. 18th, 2013 04:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kaberett[CONTENT NOTE: abuse - and that will probably be a constant for this series, sadly.]
Assertiveness is not the enemy.
This revelation was so profound for me that the first few times I tried telling anyone about it, it came out as "I've figured it all out! Assertiveness makes me feel bad!" instead.
Like I said, I've been very, very well trained. And in this instance? Well, it hurts that I'm a quick learner.
As it turns out, though, assertiveness isn't the scary bit; it's not what makes me feel bad; it's not the problem.
The problem is the situations that make it necessary for me to be assertive: the ones where I'm not being listened to, or my boundaries are being violated, or I've realised that I haven't previously communicated my needs clearly enough and everything is going to go to hell in a handbasket if I don't speak up right now--
-- and, who'd have thought it, those all turn out to be pretty stressful situations, and contexts in which I'm likely to end up feeling violated. Problem is, having been socialised as female, I've also been taught that I should (how I loathe that word) be meek and quiet and prioritise others' needs above my own no matter the cost - and that if I don't I am selfish and thoughtless and unkind.
It's not terribly surprising, really, that between one thing and another the whole horrible tangle ended up with me dead certain that assertiveness made me feel bad and I should avoid it like the plague.
That's a lie. It's a convincing lie, to be sure, and it's one that abusers have a vested interest in perpetuating, but it's no less false for that.
- as a palate cleanser, I'd like to offer you a phrase I first came across in the context of Courage Wolf, and which is now in my little black book of encouraging or otherwise happy thoughts:
you are never taller than when you stand up for yourself.
Assertiveness is not the enemy.
This revelation was so profound for me that the first few times I tried telling anyone about it, it came out as "I've figured it all out! Assertiveness makes me feel bad!" instead.
Like I said, I've been very, very well trained. And in this instance? Well, it hurts that I'm a quick learner.
As it turns out, though, assertiveness isn't the scary bit; it's not what makes me feel bad; it's not the problem.
The problem is the situations that make it necessary for me to be assertive: the ones where I'm not being listened to, or my boundaries are being violated, or I've realised that I haven't previously communicated my needs clearly enough and everything is going to go to hell in a handbasket if I don't speak up right now--
-- and, who'd have thought it, those all turn out to be pretty stressful situations, and contexts in which I'm likely to end up feeling violated. Problem is, having been socialised as female, I've also been taught that I should (how I loathe that word) be meek and quiet and prioritise others' needs above my own no matter the cost - and that if I don't I am selfish and thoughtless and unkind.
It's not terribly surprising, really, that between one thing and another the whole horrible tangle ended up with me dead certain that assertiveness made me feel bad and I should avoid it like the plague.
That's a lie. It's a convincing lie, to be sure, and it's one that abusers have a vested interest in perpetuating, but it's no less false for that.
- as a palate cleanser, I'd like to offer you a phrase I first came across in the context of Courage Wolf, and which is now in my little black book of encouraging or otherwise happy thoughts:
you are never taller than when you stand up for yourself.