Do You Weigh as Much as a Duck?
The concept that if I say my pain is real, it must be real, and if you don't suffer from my pain, my pain is in some part your fault so just listen to me as I yell in your face about your need for shame and contrition.
The stomach tightens and sinks.
The heart and lungs follow.
It’s a confounding reaction to a receipt of affection.
It’s familiar, and, therefore, oddly comforting.
But familiarity can be a curse.
A cursed reminder of what once went wrong when you were just trying to do things right this time.
This time it’ll be different, you say.
Why? You’re different, but what are you doing differently?