my-diary

[my-diary]

he had the most piercing blue eyes

like storms

like oceans

like crystals and diamonds and rain.

i never knew what kind of day they would be having.

would they be a calm river or a hurricane?

would they love me or resent me?

they were beautiful

but terrifying

Just like him.

His eyes were many things, but never predictable, and rarely safe.

he has the most gentle browns eyes

they’re like caramel

and amber and sunshine

and maple syrup and shimmering gold.

i never know what day they’ll be having

but i always know they’ll have the time for me.

those big lovey doe eyes…

they’re welcoming

and sweet

and home

just like him.

for once, i am not afraid to look into the eyes of my beloved, and i have to wonder

is this what it feels like

to heal?

[my-diary]

Dear Diary,

Today I tried to go about my day as if I wasn’t sick. The problem is, I am very sick. A nasty little cold that I can’t shake.

I saw Noah at school. Well actually, Noah saw me. I was walking to lunch when I heard “um… hi? Betty?”

My ears were full and I was congested but I eventually heard him. I turned around. “Hi,” I muttered weakly.

“…you ok?” He asked.

“I feel great,” i mustered.

“Yeah, nice try,” he smirked.

I spent most of the day trying to convince him I felt good, but my case was not helped when I tripped on the same set of stairs we walk down everyday because my eyes were so watery I couldn’t really see, and I was so tired that my balance was thrown off.

He held me at lunch. He’s warm and smells good. One of the advantages of a boyfriend. I didn’t have to ask or anything, he just scooted over and motioned for me to nestle in. I almost fell asleep in his arms, not noticing how loud the room was.

One of my friends called my name and I heard Noah say, “I… I think she’s out, like she is gone.” I could feel him laugh a little and look down at me.

I wasn’t totally asleep but I let him say it, because the peace I felt being close to him was too good to be interrupted. I had been home, lonely and not feeling good, for 2 days. I needed some attention from my favorite guy.

I went home early, much to his pleasure (although I didn’t go entirely willingly.) I feel like shit, but at least something made me smile today.

Love,

Betty

[my-diary]

Dear Diary,

I’m struggling to forgive myself.

Feel like I let myself get abused. Obviously that’s not true. It’s no ones fault but his (and maybe his parents for screwing him up mentally).

I flinch at loud noises a lot. He used to throw things and swear when he got pissed off.

I start to panic when people get quiet. He would shut me out and stop talking to me when he was mad.

I worry about telling people when they upset me. He would hurt himself when I got upset.

How did I not see that? And why does it still impact me after he’s gone?

Not fair.

Love,

Betty

[my-diary]

Dear Diary,

“I LOVE YOU,” i blurted out.

Oh god…

He was walking away, he was going home, he had hugged me and smiled and turned around and I saw him walking away and I wanted him to know and I was so nervous and it just popped out.

Last time I said that it didn’t go well. I had told Drake. His response was, “Are you sure? Really? Are you actually ready to say that? Was it an accident? Ok, I love you, too.” This was his response to just about every step we tried to take in our relationship. He saw me as less than him, you know? That I was his little helpless baby who couldn’t think for herself or make a decision and needed protecting.

So here I was, standing in a hallway blurting out those three words again, taking that step I again, and it was like I heard myself say it and I felt… naked.

But barley I second passed before I watched him process what I had said. The slow and measured pace of his steps was thrown off but he was not.

And in that moment, Noah, who just a month before had never even touched a woman, proudly turned his head over his shoulder and said “I love you, too”.

I saw a glimmer in his deep brown eyes and a smile at the corner of his mouth, as he turned back around and left.

I stopped, stunned for a moment. He had said it as calmly and cooly as you’d say the sky was blue. He said it as easily as you say your own name. But what got me was the way he just… believed me. I told him how I felt and he didn’t question it.

He just loved me back.

I feel like I’m in a fairy tale, but my friends keep saying that this is what normal is. I love normal.

I love Noah, too.

Love,

Betty

[my-diary]

Dear Diary,

Physical intimacy. It’s something we’re supposed to crave. It’s often times a good thing. It’s supposed to be enjoyable and stress relieving and help you feel loved. I think some people have learned how to taint it.

Today I was intimate with my boyfriend. Nothing crazy, as we’re still new. Nothing super far. But like, we fell asleep holding each other. We made out. We touched each other. We were truly WITH each other. And it wasn’t about the sensation at all. It was about being close. It was about feeling safe and seeking refuge in each other and letting the other know “hey, i’m here, you’re not alone.” It was vulnerable. It was very vulnerable.

I tried to explain to him that I’d never felt safe being intimate. I was never forced, but with my ex, I felt distant. It was his body and my body and sensation and that was all. It was a tool. A weapon. I explained how it was something that was used to make me stay. Something that was used to isolate me.

This explanation was bizarre to him. “I’m so sorry,” he said, “i wish I could relate to this so I knew what to say and so I could help you but this is all new to me.” His confusion, I realized, was because normal people don’t think the way emotional abusers do. To him, it was letting me know I was loved, and being close, and being safe.

I was dozing with my head on his chest. Sleep is sometimes the hardest, because when you doze, your mind wanders free. It starts to… drift. Once you’ve experienced trauma, that’s where your brain can turn to. A bad memory that you get trapped in like a dream. I felt myself twitch and gasp and then suddenly his hand was on my back, running up and down my spine, the other around my shoulders pulling me close. I woke up almost half an hour later, with his arms still around me and his face near mine, like he was protecting me and keeping me safe.

Physical intimacy. I think it’s just another form of vulnerability. I think it’s just another way to feel close. It’s not the end all be all if a relationship, just one part of it. I don’t think I got that until today.

Love,

Betty

[my-diary]

Dear blog,

Today I texted Noah to tell him that I was leaving a rehearsal. I didn’t even think about it. I just felt the need to update him on what I was doing and where I was going. Drake always had to know.

Noah gives me breathing room, trust, love, everything Drake didn’t.

I found out that Drake believes I cheated on him. I never did. He always said that all his other ex girlfriends cheated. Now I’m wondering if that’s true or just his abandonment issues, you know? Like he’s so paranoid he couldn’t ever trust anyone.

I’m carrying around all these old habits with me from an abuser. It hurts.

Love,

Betty

[my-diary]

Dear blog,

I went on a date. I asked a guy out and we’ve actually gone on a few dates. We’ll call him Noah.

Noah is… awkward. In the sweetest way. He apologizes for it, but it’s actually one of my favorite things about him. He tried hard to do the “right” thing. To be a “good” boyfriend. But I think he’s doing wonderful. Although, apparently, I don’t have good judgement when it comes to dating (see previous diary entry).

Here’s the issue. Drake was the most long term and serious relationship I’ve ever had. So that was my idea of what relationships are like. Hot and cold, i love you/i hate you, ignoring me/ love bombing, etc…

But Noah and I have been friends a long time. He… he’s mellow. He’s sweet and solid and -from what my friends say- what a boyfriend should be. He holds my hand and shows up on time and buys me dinner and goes places with me and listens really well and really sees me as his equal. We’re a team.

This all sounds great? That’s because it is… but… i’m terrified. Why am I terrified? Not of him of course. I was scared of Drake, but never Noah. My world was so small and now it’s so big. I was so trapped but now I’m free. That’s a little scary. Because the world is A LOT bigger and brighter than I thought it was. Overwhelming.

For once I’m not thinking about forever. For once, I’m just thinking about now.

Love,

Betty

[my-diary]

Dear Blog

I was in… a bad relationship. A really bad one. My therapist says it was emotional abuse. I think that’s a strong term, but I suppose, looking back, it’s true. Let’s call him… Drake? Sure. Drake

I don’t think drake meant to hurt me. I think he loved in the way he knew how. The way he was taught. The way he saw from his parents. Unfortunately, that way wasn’t really love. It was obsession, ownership, anxious attachment, I don’t know. I don’t hate him. I can’t. I just hate what happened.

I hope he’s ok. I hope he figures it out. I hope he heals and learns and finds something healthy.

As for me, I am trying to figure out what love really means to me. I’m not sure, I thought I knew…

Love,

Betty (that’s not my real name, but it feels weird not having some kind of title)

[my-diary]

I don’t really know why I made this blog. I just… I worry that I talk to my friends TOO much. You know? I just go on and on. But I want to tell SOMEONE. So here I go. This is my anonymous cry into the void. This blog is my diary. Read it or don’t. But it’s here.