Implied consent

It’s garbage day and I’m sending away my implied consent. Valentine’s Day and the anniversary of my last breakup have me thinking about the billions of mistakes that I’ve made. The horrible things that I’ve allowed. Things I consented to because I didn’t stand firm in my “no”. 

This might get messy. I’ve spent a lifetime letting people get away with things because it was easier than not. What I realized this week is that the only people I’ve successfully sent away are the people who respect boundaries.

I’ve said no to nearly everyone who’s asked if they could kiss me, but I’ve allowed myself to be kissed by people I didn’t want to kiss because they didn’t ask, and I didn’t want the fight. 

What has this resulted in? Relationships I didn’t want. Relationships that started when I was drunk. Relationships with people who didn’t ask, or didn’t listen when I said no. 

My boundaries until now have only served to keep away the decent people. Sometimes people get mad because I refuse a second date after the first date went so well. The thing is, it only went well for them, I was faking. I allowed it because I didn’t want to say no. 

After over a decade spent with a man who loved to yell for hours any time we disagreed, I’d become terrified to disagree.

Sobriety is incredible because it allows one the opportunity to reflect on things that were previously avoided. Like why we do the stupid things we do, over and over again. If every time we go out, we drink, it makes sense that the people we meet might not be people we would choose while sober. 

My last three relationships (every relationship since my divorce) began without my consent. They were relationships I initially said no to. They weren’t my choice. I was their choice. These people refused my no, and I let them, because I’d been conditioned to avoid conflict. 

I used to say that having a boyfriend was relaxing because it allowed me to say no to people without feeling bad about it. It was easier when less personal.  My “friendly” has often been mistaken for flirting,  and I’ve suffered some very angry reactions to saying “no” but at least the boyfriend excuse softens the blow. 

My first boyfriend after my divorce was a twenty-five year old ex-drug dealing OCD cab driver.  We talked for an hour the first night we met, and then he kissed me so I left and went back to my friends. A couple weeks later he found me again, kissed me and I left and went back to my friends. 

The third time he kissed me I was on a date with a really nice man (who I also didn’t want to date but had agreed to date because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings). That guy later had both of his legs amputated and found true love and I don’t feel bad about not being the one for him. The woman he ended up with was way nicer than me, he dodged a bullet. 

The amputee ended up with a fantastic little wife, and I ended up with the rapey/stalky cab driver who was 15 years younger than me, and just barely weird enough to hold my interest. It was all a mess. 

He ignored my disinterest but told me that I was the most interesting women he’d ever talked to and he really wanted to know me. A few weeks later he moved in with me and stayed for several years. He wasn’t even close to what I needed or wanted, so I made it my job to “fix” him. I found it all entertaining. 

It’s safe to say that prior to my marriage, I was the crazy one in all of my relationships. I can forgive myself now, knowing what I do about conditioning and abandonment, I believe I was always doing my best. I could have done with some therapy, but my family didn’t believe in therapy. 

It’s a little-known fact that people leaving an abusive relationship are more likely to enter into another one. Once one has soft boundaries, they become bait for abusers. Had I made a fuss after the first kiss, caused a scene, been loud and mean, he likely would have called me a bitch and left me alone. 

My parents had raised me not to fight. Scientologists don’t yell, don’t fight, and don’t write people off. Instead they see the good person within the bad person, and separate the two as the spirit and the “bank”. From an early age I was told to see the good in monsters. If I was ever anything but happy (not too happy, that was bad too), I was told to “knock it off.” There was no range of emotion allowed in my house. I never pursued Scientology as a religion, so I never became the powerful thetan they train to be, I was just raised to be honest, generous, fair, and complacent. 

What this culminated in was a woman with intense abandonment issues who stuffed her feelings until she exploded, ready to kill. I never even considered talking about my feelings, I only expressed anything when I lost my shit. 

So, this garbage day, I’m sending away the pushy right along with the nice, you’re not welcome anymore. There will be no more implied consent, I am sticking to my “no.” I won’t end up in another terrible relationship, with another job I don’t want, with another friend who monopolizes all of my time, or anything or anyone who doesn’t take no for an answer. I barely have time for the things I want to do, I definitely don’t have time for the things I don’t want to do. ongarbageday.com