Courage in Patience

There was something inside my mom, like there is, at this point anyway, in me, that says we don't deserve respect of our boundaries. Not that we have any in the first place. It's a sense of worthlessness and emptiness, like being a cup with a crack in it. No matter how many times the cup is filled, with, for example, the love that David and Bev show me, it leaks out, because I don't love myself yet. I'm not willing to fight for me, and it comes out in torrents of rage.

Courage in Patience - Beth Fehlbaum


I was drawn to this book like a moth to the flame. At the library, from a distance, I saw the front cover featured on the shelf directly in front of my line of vision. I walked towards it as if I had been searching for the book all along. I had never seen it before in my life but something about it attracted me. Maybe it was the bright contrasted complimentaries of red and green. Maybe it was the way the character's back is focused instead of her face. Whatever it was, I walked straight to it and picked it up to examine the back cover.

I have a process when picking up books, and yes, I do judge a book by its cover (as a graphic designer, how can I not?). I'll skim the back cover, and if my interest is still peaked, I'll open up the front pages and skim the table of contents, if applicable. Courage in Patience is about a teenager who has suffered from sexual abuse since the age of 8. At first, I thought it was a memoir, but when I delved into the first chapter, I realized it was a fiction geared towards young adults and classroom study. This book is amazing and the first chapter hooked me in.

Sometimes, I almost wish I had been sexually abused so that I have a better justification for how messed up I am, or how messed up I sometimes feel. I know that's an incredibly weird thought, and even weirder still, I have had rape fantasies. Something about being submissive and so irresistably sexy that he ravages me with animalistic force, strength and dominance. I'm sure if rape were to really happen to me, it would be different, and not an exciting matter, but the thought of play, while still in a bit of control, strikes me as incredibly erotic.

Although I have not been sexually abused, I have been emotionally, verbally and physically abused in my childhood. The physical abuse--the spanking, the ear pulling and the hair yanking--stopped being a constant when my step-dad's booze stopped as a kid, but everything else remained up into my early twenties. It's not something I like to talk about because I feel like a lame sissy when I do. Emotional abuse. Big deal. But, abuse is abuse and it affects people in similar ways. You don't come out of that most your life without some scars. This is why I could relate to the book and why it really resonated with me.

The thing is, I've always had a problem verbalizing my boundaries. I let people walk all over me. I let myself "fall" for men I don't even like. I let myself be lead into situations without thinking for myself. I am a chameleon that molds myself into who you want me to be, for a little while. After awhile, I don't even know who I am and who I should be. My first ex would joke that he knew me better than I knew myself. It was true. I look to other people for my sense of self. I need constant love and attention to fill my cup full; an illusion that doesn't last with the crack that chips away that love. I want more. I crave more. And it is never enough. I feel a sense of worthlessness and emptiness expressed in anger and rage.

Maybe that's why my relationships never work out; I don't love myself first. The more you pay attention to me the more I self-destruct, because I don't think that I deserve it, and because I want it anyway. Because I'm selfish and think you should revolve around me. I work so much better when I'm single because I know I have to work on self-reliancy and self-sustenance. When I'm in a relationship, I just get lazy because I crave that illusion of love and attention, not knowing that I have the power to love myself within. I'm ready to love myself now. And I'm ready to fight.

Part of the reason I'm sharing visions of my 19-year old self is because I can relate so much to "her". She resonates with me. I was ready to fight then, I was ready to love myself but I was only just beginning. Without boundaries, I let myself into relationship situations which stunted my growth. While I don't think ages 20-25 were a big waste of time and I learned my fair share of realizations that lead me to the thoughts in this entry, I was definitely putting my self on hold. Now almost 26, I am feeling as if I am starting where I left off at age 19. This time, I will set my boundaries, and I have been. I will not let myself get sucked into previous cycles. I don't want to be selfish, self-centered, and craving attention. I want to be confident and happy enough on my own so that I don't rely on another for that illusion. Always short of grasp.

* * * Maybe I was meant to read this book. Maybe there was a reason it caught my eye and I was drawn to it so. Courage in Patience is a book about survival, and I am a survivor. I am not a quitter. I won't give up on myself. I refuse to. I may have my moments, but I will always pick myself up again. It is a book not just about abuse, but also tolerance to anyone who dares to be different, or to anyone who has no choice but be different; tackling racism, fundamentalism, abuse and other issues. It endeavors to resolve the tough subject of self-acceptance with hope. Something we can all resonate with.



To read a full excerpt of chapter one, click here.