Jerk-aholic Anonymous
Why do I like crazy people so much?
Why do people who desperately need to be taken care of pull me?
There are relationships in my life that have been defined, solely, by how much I can give. I run to take care of them, to get their attention, to make them feel better. People who are manipulative. People who exploit me. And when I discover that I’ve been used, treated horribly, do I leave?
Nope. I go back for more.
Why?
Because I must be getting something out of this. Over and over I do it. I’m watching myself right now be pulled by a person in my life who is bad for me. Really bad for me. Treated me like dirt. Used me. And yet I find myself thinking, well, if I just get her to laugh a little. Lighten up.
For what? For me? No, Sara, that would not be for you. That would be for her. And then the door is open for me to make her laugh again. And be responsible for making her laugh. To take ownership of it.
I know there is a really basic, psych 101 dynamic going on here but I honestly can’t figure it out. I am a sane human being. I have people who love me, care for me and are in fact kind to me. Without me having to beg. Quite a few of them. People who think I’m special and interesting. (Got them fooled!)
And where am I? At the door of the completely unavailable, crazy person’s house saying, oh, c’mon, just come out to play. It’ll be okay. I promise.
WHY?
It’s getting old. My wife is annoyed by it. She is tired of me being sucked dry by every needy soul out there. It’s like I have a sign on my forehead that says, “The more you kick, the more you get.” My therapist is exasperated by my repeated treks back to a well that’s not only dry but was always dry, never had a drop in it. In fact, it was a mirage.
Well, there was that one time I thought I heard there might be water maybe…
It doesn’t make any sense to me. I have a full life. I don’t need this person or their crazy, spinning world.
It’s like a drug.
Hi. My name is Sara. I am a jerk-aholic. Any time there is jerk to be found, I’m right there, snorting it up both nostrils. I love the rush of being important and being used. Anytime I can swoop in and take care of a narcissistic asshole, I am right there. The more abuse I take, the more I go back.
I went to college for this?
Yesterday, I thought I was walking down a new path. Today I realize I have to learn how to walk again. Forget the path. That’s a little too advanced right now. I need to stick to putting one foot in front of the other.
And not to any door of anyone who isn’t welcoming me, opening their arms and saying, gosh, this is a really hard time for you right now. What can I do for you?
For once, I want to be taken care of. Kindly.
Enough with the crazy people.
Why do people who desperately need to be taken care of pull me?
There are relationships in my life that have been defined, solely, by how much I can give. I run to take care of them, to get their attention, to make them feel better. People who are manipulative. People who exploit me. And when I discover that I’ve been used, treated horribly, do I leave?
Nope. I go back for more.
Why?
Because I must be getting something out of this. Over and over I do it. I’m watching myself right now be pulled by a person in my life who is bad for me. Really bad for me. Treated me like dirt. Used me. And yet I find myself thinking, well, if I just get her to laugh a little. Lighten up.
For what? For me? No, Sara, that would not be for you. That would be for her. And then the door is open for me to make her laugh again. And be responsible for making her laugh. To take ownership of it.
I know there is a really basic, psych 101 dynamic going on here but I honestly can’t figure it out. I am a sane human being. I have people who love me, care for me and are in fact kind to me. Without me having to beg. Quite a few of them. People who think I’m special and interesting. (Got them fooled!)
And where am I? At the door of the completely unavailable, crazy person’s house saying, oh, c’mon, just come out to play. It’ll be okay. I promise.
WHY?
It’s getting old. My wife is annoyed by it. She is tired of me being sucked dry by every needy soul out there. It’s like I have a sign on my forehead that says, “The more you kick, the more you get.” My therapist is exasperated by my repeated treks back to a well that’s not only dry but was always dry, never had a drop in it. In fact, it was a mirage.
Well, there was that one time I thought I heard there might be water maybe…
It doesn’t make any sense to me. I have a full life. I don’t need this person or their crazy, spinning world.
It’s like a drug.
Hi. My name is Sara. I am a jerk-aholic. Any time there is jerk to be found, I’m right there, snorting it up both nostrils. I love the rush of being important and being used. Anytime I can swoop in and take care of a narcissistic asshole, I am right there. The more abuse I take, the more I go back.
I went to college for this?
Yesterday, I thought I was walking down a new path. Today I realize I have to learn how to walk again. Forget the path. That’s a little too advanced right now. I need to stick to putting one foot in front of the other.
And not to any door of anyone who isn’t welcoming me, opening their arms and saying, gosh, this is a really hard time for you right now. What can I do for you?
For once, I want to be taken care of. Kindly.
Enough with the crazy people.
posted by Sara at 3:26 PM
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