Okay so I’m in the mood for a bit of Bob ranting today. I guess ’cause this one is more painful than most, and I’m hoping that if I say it aloud (or type it, as it were), some of the shame will disappear, and it might lose some of its power.

Bob is a very manipulative person. He wants to be in control, but he does it secretively. Meeting him, you would never define him as an especially controlling person, but that’s probably because he doesn’t fit the archetypal, Hollywood version of a controlling man.

He manipulates by using your emotions. He cuts you down, by telling you things like, the only reason you sold that painting was because it was your friend’s mom who bought it and that no one actually wants to buy your work. He makes you feel small, insignificant, helpless, powerless, worthless.

But then he “helps” you. He says these horrid things, and then turns around and does something nice, like convince people at work that they should commission you to do a painting. He helps you do stuff and slowly but surely, convinces you that you need him.

He convinces you that you are small and unworthy, but because he helped you, you accomplished a few little things here and there. But only because of him.

And soon you develop this fear that without him, you are nothing. That the only reason any good thing in your life has happened (because you are completely incompetent and could never survive on your own), is because of him and what he’s done for you.

Your abilities and talents and skills don’t count. They mean nothing. It is only because of him.

And heaven forbid you get upset with him, or anything like that. Because then he threatens to take away all of his help, and then where would you be, right? Because without him you are nothing. Without him, you are helpless.

So right now, I’m pretty angry at Bob. I’m pretty hurt too. Because all of my confidence in myself has been undermined by him. I gave all of my power to him, not out of choice, but because I was young and I thought that was what you did.

I want my power back. I want my life back. I want my voice back. I want my confidence back.

Sorry, Bob, but as of today, this ends.

You do not own me. You do not control me. You are not my only source of worth.

I have skills. I have talents. I am competent. I can survive, and hell, even thrive on my own. I can make money. People do like my art. I am good at what I do. I can charge a lot of money for my work and not lose every single one of my collectors. I am smart, and kind, and capable, and I am, in fact nothing like you.

Even though you tell me all the time that I’m exactly like you. “You in a skirt,” you used to tell me.

But I don’t manipulate people. I don’t think that the world is a horrible place. I can accomplish my dreams. I am not bitter, or cynical. I’m hopeful and see the best in people.

And even though I am sick, I will still do great things.

You are wrong. I will not fail. I still have so much to offer to people. I can still change lives.

I am bigger than all of the horrible things you said about me.

I am not a nasty person. And I am a fighter, despite what you said that day. I am not a bitch. I am not a drama queen. I do not over-react. I have just as much right to be angry as you do. And lord knows, you are angry, bitter and resentful every single day of your life. How do I know that? Because you take it out on everyone else.

I am so glad that I am not like you, Bob. I am going to have a happy, awesome, wonderful life. Because I can survive without you. I can support myself without you.

I am independent.

I am strong.

I am powerful.

Screw you, Bob. Screw you.