I love stabbing people in the back.
I sneak up quietlyI have special boots that dont make a soundand plunge my dagger into the soft tissue.
Then I fold into the shadows.
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The first time I played a rogue, I felt free.
I always enjoyed fantasy and gaming but had never played anything like Dragon Age.
I got deep into this character.
The enemies she made felt deserved.
The friends she kept felt true because they werent just hanging out with someone who smiled them to death.
You will probably find them drunk at the tavern or hiding in dark corners.
Theyre out for personal gain but often advocate for the marginalized or downtrodden.
They operate by their own code and are fiercely independent.
Rogues dont put up with shit.
They dont lie on the floor like a rumpled sheet ruminating on every bad choice or mistake theyve made.
Rogues are not people pleasers.
Perhaps thats why it feels so liberating to play one.
For as long as I can remember, Ive been a resentfulpeople pleaser.
But youre so strong, they say.
Crawling into bed and clutching my anti-anxiety pills, I dont feel strong at all.
I feel like a shameful wound that never heals.
The truth is, I have no resiliency.
I have avoided calling the doctor when I was very sick because I didnt want to bother him.
I am terribly sorry when returning things to the store.
I ignore street harassers when I want nothing more than to kick them in the scrotum.
Almost perversely, though, I often end up in situations antithetical to my people-pleasing nature.
I start arguments when Im bored.
I write about controversial topics.
I put myself out there on a fairly frequent basis.
This clash of warring impulsesavoid and antagonizedefines my existence.
We go about addressing conflict in healthier ways.
We have conversations and express our feelings.
We use I statements.
But sometimes its hard to face conflict even when using these productive methods.
You start to feel invisible and crazy.
Instead of hiding in the shadows like a proper rogue, you become the shadow.
Over the holidays, a family member said something I considered cruel.
He laughed and told us my aunt would have hated that name.
I started laughing along with him and then excused myself.
I went to the upstairs bathroom where no one would hear me and started sobbing.
Fifteen minutes later, I went back down and chatted with everyone like a well-programmed robot.
I spoke to my mother a few days later about the incident.
Oh, honey, she laughed.
You have no sense of humor.
If Bob knew how much the comment upset you, hed probably die.
Sharing your emotions will literally kill.
Keep them to yourself.
In aNew York Timesarticle I often return to, Leslie Jamison writes how an angry woman makes people uneasy.
… [Her] pain threatens to cause more collateral damage.
Free-flowing anger, thoughthe kind without purposeused to be my currency.
It was easier to self-destruct than confront the cause of my rage.
They just know how to channel it for maximum effect.
Rogues are good teachers; they allow you to explore a range of responses in a fictional environment.
Ive actually learned quite a bit about my personality and conflict style from embodying these characters.
Recently, I was walking my dogs when two teenage boys started obnoxiously barking at them.
Parker, who is a nervous dog, flattened to the ground and started shaking.
The boys kept barking.
What is wrong with you?
I said loudly and firmly.
I didnt even think twice.
Cant you see youre upsetting my dog?
What kind of a person gets a kick from upsetting a dog?
The kids apologized and stopped.
I walked away, my heart racing.
Dont fuck with my dogs, I hissed under my breath.
