It's interesting what being a doormat can do to a person.
To make a long and very convoluted story super short... I decided to no longer be a doormat. It was the absolute worst day of my life. Fancy that.
The psychology of being a doormat is to avoid conflict. Conflict causes discomfort. Discomfort causes an upheaval in one's daily routine. And upheaval makes me lose sleep. Sleep is key to me not turning into Mama Bear fresh from hibernation and cranky as hell. All in all, the point here is that I don't like it. All of it. I don't like feeling irritated, yet more than that, I loathe knowing I've upset someone in my retaliation. I would actually go to the extent of allowing an offense to occur and letting it roll off my back to avoid direct confrontation.
However, the doormat will not always remain a doormat.
I have learned that my personal Mama Bear comes out in force when the offense/threat affects my home and family. Scratch that. Mama Bear is too kind of a term. I was Mama Freaking Hulk. Hulk Mama is not nice. She doesn't mince words. Cross Mama Hulk and you get what's on her mind served on a platter and then whacked over the head with it.
I need to go to an AA meeting to get over the visitation of Mama Hulk. The psychological damage she does on my brain needs repair. My intro would go like this:
Hi. My name is Alyson and I am a recovering Mama Hulk.
Group Therapy Folks: Hello Alyson.
It's been two days since I completely lost it. Sometimes I think I've cried it out, but my body keeps producing more tears. My family is fine and the threat has passed. Everything should be fine but I am still suffering from copious amounts of mortification. I hoped that their apologies would alleviate some of my internal berating, but it's no use. I'd love to shut off my brain, but the instant replay is jammed and the reverb is unavoidable.
Am I a lost cause? Definitely not. However, as I live through the days waiting for this all to blow over, I marvel at myself. Who knew a doormat could throw down some serious smack?