Today I am grateful for a drawn out, unpleasant encounter with a hotshot trainer I attempted to hire recently. He did a spectacular job of constellating both poles of my father material.
On one hand there was this cordial, organized, even warm seeming guy who answered my query on the computer off his webpage about his services. He arranged a meeting between us in a friendly and prompt manner.
On the other hand, I got a disdainful, righteous, ranting and raving tyrant who accused me of committing gross felonies of disrespect against his person. Not only was this part offended by remarks I made that were taken out of context, it was in full harangue defense mode against future improprieties sure to be committed by me against him. I was already up shit creek, and we hadn’t even started.
The weird thing about it all was that I caught the energy of his split right away during the meeting, especially when he said he didn’t need any new clients! Through that real turn off and several others that followed, he didn’t say no, leaving it to me to have to get over the idea that being his client would work for me.
Even more confusing, he asked me for a hug at the end of my tour of his training facilities. I didn’t really buy it or any the kind stuff, because I have learned never to assume anything like that is genuine until a long time of observation has occurred.
I was hooked into wanting to win his attention and approval and believing it was possible if I just tried hard enough. Then he sent me three forms. One was about medical information, another was explaining his policies. The third form was about a lot of other personal questions related to health and fitness.
I took the time to fill out the forms several times, save them and send them back. This took me a while because I have never learned how to “attach” stuff to emails and my computer has some sort of faulty plug in which prevents it from letting me attach. I finally had to use a friends’ computer, completely redo them, attach and send.
I got two more waves of response by email. The first asked me to clarify a couple of answers on the forms, and the second picked me and those answers apart. I had paragraphs in red of vitriolic lectures raining down on my cretinous self. I was made to feel that my answers were questionable, my remarks about his rate of charge wildly provocative.
When I got the second response, I recognized the implacable tyrant, and I sent him an email telling him we should not continue. The final email was a classic bait and switch, starting with his saying he accepted and respected my choice. He said he was only, after all, trying to be true to himself. He may be a big shot trainer, but he’ s a blind hot mess with his own constellation and it’s now none of my business. I was never his problem, now he’s not mine and I’m free.
I’m grateful I can say no to being his whipping girl, a role I know only too well. I have always hated it, but it’s a very familiar role. The whipping girl stays and takes her punishment because forces beyond her control insist she deserves it, there is nothing else, and it’s a survival pattern our women hating culture prescribes for women and anyone considered “weak”. It was a role forced upon me by my parents, abusive siblings and the world at large. It’s like an infection that never clears up.