When I was a kid, I heard our priest talk about not judging others in order not to be judged and I thought it was bullshit. I was faced with a lot of judgemental opinions, not only by my father but by most of the people around me. I grew up believing I’m scum and uncapable. “Not worth the air you are breathing”. Of course being faced with this rating of myself made me break down when I still was a kid. I could not cope with this image of self I was provided with and as fighting it just led nowhere, I gave in to it. Even worse, I started to believe in all the things they said about me and did the preliminary work for them. If someone tried to be kind to me, I said or did nasty things to push them away. I remember being at a classmate’s and his mother pouring some lemonade for me. I never ever got lemonade at home and could not wait to drink it, but instead of just waiting her to finish, thank her and enjoy it, it pushed away the glass so that the sticky lemonade was spilled all over the kitchen counter. As a result, I have never been invited again. Why did I do so? I still don’t know. Perhaps I was anxious she might laugh at my hopes and take away the lemonade, or I was angry because my classmate had a mother pouring lemonade, or perhaps I maybe WAS scum. I don’t know, but I’m still sorry about that.
This episode just came back into my mind when John and I were sitting in a small beer garden last week. I thought how strange it still feels to be able to choose from so many options (here: the whole menu, but I guess that’s the same for most anything), and how used I have gotten to that on the other hand. I don’t take it for granted and I still need John to reassure me to choose what I like and spend money for these things. I know people judge us. I know many of them think I’m just John’s lover, just a sort of adventure while his wife is not around. Sometimes this thought is exciting, but to be honest, most times it is not. Sometimes I get weary being regarded as a toy he will throw away if it no longer excites him, even more as I fear he might do that. That’s when I know I’m not done with what I thought of myself as a kid. I still believe I’m not worth the air that I breathe.
I really try not to be judgemental towards others. There are so many examples I could tell to prove. Like the old lady I serve at work and who treats me like an idiot and always wears that knowing smile in her face as if she knew something about me. I guess she feels good having that “power” over an idiot like me, like, you know, if I would not be an idiot, then why would I work there, where all the idiots work? I try to be polite and tread her with respect, even though it’s hard. I keep telling myself I don’t know why she’s so harsh. Perhaps she has been insulted by someone I remind her of, but still she deserves to be treated like a good human being. John can’t understand why I’m that patient with her or people like her. He demands respect. He might ask for it once, but surely not twice before giving you a chewing out. I’m none of that kind, and perhaps that’s still because I think I’m more or less wortless. I can raise my worth when serving others and serving them well. I guess that’s sort of my sense of life.
So, why do I write about all of that today? I don’t know. I guess I’m slowly slipping into the next state of being kept in chastity, which I think is acceptance. It is always deeply connected with these thoughts about my value, my place in life and in our relationship. Being kept in chastity for so long now makes me humble and permeable. I wish he’d just milk me…