The hill you choose to die on
Dec. 21st, 2018 08:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nissaayenI actually really like that phrase. It expresses succinctly the way people defend things. It gives meaning to those battles that you are never giving up- win, lose, or die.
Thing is, when you are somebody who has had their boundaries repeatedly violated since before memory forms effectively those hills move all the time. I have both childhood sexual abuse and domestic abuse in my box of scary things.
There was a time that I had no hills I was willing to die for and then my hills became absurdly superficial.
And now- they are far from the most important parts of me but all the same they are my hills.
Some of the hills I am willing to die for are still probably ridiculous
I just try to keep finding that balance.
Privacy is a big one. I was raised to believe all things were private. If it could be pushed aside and hidden it should be, -family buisness- belonged to your family and nobody else. Even within your family those secrets should be nestled in small groups like Russian nesting dolls of nastiness.
I've since realised that culture of silence was enabling generations worth of abuse like mine. It doesnt just come from nowhere after all.
It doesnt stop me from being so frustratingly self contained but it adds a touch of paradoxical behavior of sharing information people close to me dont understand.
My privacy is sacred. I get to decide when and how that information is shared. I can share it with 1000 people or just one. Nobody has a right to my information even if I've shared it with a billion strangers.
It's how I learn and develop an idea of what healthy relationships and boundaries look like. Violating my privacy is something that's terribly hard to forgive.
And this is a hill I will die on, or perhaps the superficial hills before it.
What a meandering thought about hills to die on.
Thing is, when you are somebody who has had their boundaries repeatedly violated since before memory forms effectively those hills move all the time. I have both childhood sexual abuse and domestic abuse in my box of scary things.
There was a time that I had no hills I was willing to die for and then my hills became absurdly superficial.
And now- they are far from the most important parts of me but all the same they are my hills.
Some of the hills I am willing to die for are still probably ridiculous
I just try to keep finding that balance.
Privacy is a big one. I was raised to believe all things were private. If it could be pushed aside and hidden it should be, -family buisness- belonged to your family and nobody else. Even within your family those secrets should be nestled in small groups like Russian nesting dolls of nastiness.
I've since realised that culture of silence was enabling generations worth of abuse like mine. It doesnt just come from nowhere after all.
It doesnt stop me from being so frustratingly self contained but it adds a touch of paradoxical behavior of sharing information people close to me dont understand.
My privacy is sacred. I get to decide when and how that information is shared. I can share it with 1000 people or just one. Nobody has a right to my information even if I've shared it with a billion strangers.
It's how I learn and develop an idea of what healthy relationships and boundaries look like. Violating my privacy is something that's terribly hard to forgive.
And this is a hill I will die on, or perhaps the superficial hills before it.
What a meandering thought about hills to die on.
