When I arrived at the airport in Curaçao on April 8th, Donald came to pick me up. He brought me to his house where I could stay for the month that I am here. I am thankful for that.
But once we arrived at his house he said: “So, here is soap and shampoo, there is the shower and give me your shirts, you stink.”
That’s what friends are for: direct, confronting if necessary. But I can tell you, deep down inside me, it did hurt. Because I began to ask myself: “How many times has that happened and people around did not tell me? Even if I asked them?”
Slowly the answers came.
Because it is sometimes the case, and when it is not, there is no need to tell me.
When I sweat, this thing begins.
When I wear certain shirts, the stench comes off, even if they come fresh (Oh yeah, fresh?) out of the washing machine. And those certain shirts contain old rotten sweat. And when the warmth of my body warms up the shirt, it gives off this bad smell.
And then I think people were so polite as not to tell me. And even that is understandable. Because why didn’t they tell me? Because I get defensive. I can even be a bully. I can then even shout harder to mind their own business. So I can’t even blame others for not telling me. It is completely my own doing.
But I have known Donald for almost 40 years now. He has seen my moods when I was younger. He has seen the “beasty” side of my character when we lived in the same student house with all boys. He is in no way scared of me. And if I would be a bully, it would not impress him at all. He would give it back to me without hesitation. But bullying has long since been not my style anymore.
So I got defensive. And okay, I hate eau de cologne, a lot of soaps or perfumes; they hurt my nose, sometimes literally. And sometimes I pass someone by with such an odor… to me, it would have been enough to win the Vietnam War. I am sorry, but I can really not stand this stench. But now again I am getting defensive…even in the direction of bully.
But let’s face what the issue is here.
Fact: I smell sometimes bad. Ouch, ouch…!
I have to be more careful. And now that I talk about it, I do remember my ex tried to make that clear to me, that sometimes… Sorry sweetheart, though I really did my best. And sorry to all those who had to bear it and then be silent because of my character.
I take the blame, it’s all on me.
And then some dogs hate me.
Wait, one moment, what the F* does that have to do with it?
Well, read on, I will explain.
Dogs smell fear, don’t they? They hate it.
The way I was brought up was (And I am sorry, my parents, I love you, I am just stating a fact now) with physical violence and heavy manipulation. It made me deep down scared. And later, when I was grown up, if something triggered this fear, even in the least, I defended or I counter-attacked. So the attacker was even more scared than I was. Typical bully behavior. Battle won… or not… I missed the chance to feel my own deep-lying fear… I lost. I lost the chance for a deeper connection with myself, to heal myself.
Dogs, they smell fear, however secretly hidden it is. They smelled mine!
They smell it, while I couldn’t even feel it myself.
And my reaction: out of fear of the dog, I over-bully them, so they are scared then of me. This is why I have been bitten by them in my life four times. Why me? That is why!
And this deep-lying smell in me was in my sweat; it got into my shirts. And I can vow for my diet, it can be super clean, and even then it is there — less, but it is there. Enough for dogs to smell. Thank you Chico, the male dog of Donald, you showed me.
“Cure”-açao
The heat, the sea, the salt, the sweat, the still cleaner diet or not eating at all, the stress-free time I have. It draws it out.
I can see now:
I was always afraid of a man that is a bully (Even if I can over-bully them).
I was always afraid of not getting the love from the woman I loved. (Sorry ex, but I did really deeply love you).
You see? I was afraid. Afraid to live. That kept me in prison all those years. And I am here to learn freedom.
“Cure”-açao
