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What If?
What if everything really does happen for a reason?
After all the mistakes, heartbreak, and insanity, where does that leave me? I think that some people have to learn through experience, and I am one of those people. Time and time again, I have been warned by others about various things. It seems that regardless, I still have to learn for myself.
Maybe it's because I don't trust people. Maybe it's because I don't see why I should take advice from people who don't have what I want. Maybe it's both, among many other reasons.
What if I needed to hit rock bottom before I could appreciate what I have today? Rock bottom for me was having everything I ever wanted, and still being miserable. It was the type of misery that made me accept that things would never change. It was accepting that I would live and die that way. It was the thought of my last glimmer of hope quickly fading.
What if I had to try things my own way first, and fail repeatedly before I could admit that I can't do this on my own? Learning who to trust is no easy task. It was easier to shut people out than it was to risk letting the wrong person in. After repeated cycles of abuse and reactive abuse, it becomes difficult to trust anyone, including yourself. Every choice feels like the wrong one.
What if it's about the journey, and not the destination? I never understood why someone would want to "stop and smell the roses." I have always been "on the go", with no desire to stop for anything. I never cared to experience anything, because regardless of what was happening, I was still there. Maybe it's time to slow down.
What if it's possible that all the hardships I have experienced are worth something? I have always hoped that someday it would be worth it. That someday, I will feel comfortable in my skin. That someday I will fully love and accept myself. That someday, I will be able to live a life full of peace, joy, happiness, and love.
What if it's possible that the things I desire most are slowly coming to fruition and I will be able to appreciate them more and they are better than I could have ever imagined, as long as I continue to work for it?
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I Forgot to Tell You
I remembered that I actually do have hobbies. I could make an excuse about why I forgot, or I could just be honest. See, I struggle with consistency, even with the things that I love doing so much.
Writing is one of my hobbies that goes overlooked often. Maybe I feel embarrassed. Maybe I feel inadequate. Maybe I have just lost inspiration.
The truth is, I don't know why I stop writing. It is difficult to fathom that I would willingly give up something that is such a magnificent outlet for me. It is difficult to comprehend that someone might ever show genuine interest in what I write.Not to mention, how terrifying the thought of someone asking about my writing is.
See, when I start losing sight of myself, I don't feel authentic enough to write something out. It feels like gibberish and nonsense. I would prefer to be silent than out of character. Maybe that's not healthy, maybe I need to work on that.
Maybe it says a lot about me. Maybe I am still regaining my own trust after all that has happened. Maybe writing again will help me to regain my own trust. Maybe I use my own writings to reflect on who I was, and who I am today. Maybe I feel like I can communicate significantly better through writing than speaking, and I am afraid that someone will see how vulnerable I can be.
I like to use my writing as a way to track my progress, and remind myself that I am not my trauma. Some things I write are powerful, and some are just written in effort to get my mind to stop spinning.
Some things feel impossible to say. Sometimes I am terrified of rejection, and would rather pretend that this page doesn't exist. I used to be proud of my writing. Now, I neglect it.
Maybe it's time to get back to it. Maybe it's time to finally take the next steps to reconnect with my authentic self, unapologetically. I don't think I realized how many old feelings made another appearance until now.
The confidence, trust, peace, and wholeness I once had isn't gone. I just need patience, faith, encouragement, and celebration to keep making progress. Like my writing, I myself, am a work in progress.
Someday, I wish to feel as whole as I did, if not more. Until then, a lot of words will go unsaid, because I get tired of telling the true from the false.
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Until it Hurts Less
During the best of times, I still find myself overwhelmed with deep grief and anxiety. Time and time again, these feelings creep back in. The slightest inconvenience turns into days of withdrawal. The smallest of things can send me back into a spiral of memories that grab ahold of me, and pull me away from everything I know and love.
It seems unfair at times. It makes me wonder if I just remembered my entire life wrong, because how is it possible to have endured so much and still be well off? Was everything just some terrible nightmare?
It wasn't. My crooked nose, broken toes, scars, and glazed over eyes, all tell the story of what has happened. I cannot deny something that I remember so well and also have physical proof of. It's easy to say "Well, that's not how that happened" if you aren't so sure. Although hard at times, I have no choice but to stay in reality, as much as I would love to live in a fairy tale.
Accepting that things happened the way that they did does get easier. Accepting that those things have impacted me for the rest of my life, isn't quite so easy. There are so many things that I miss dearly. My short-term memory, trust in people, desire to explore, might never come back.
I never knew that stress and abuse could actually cause brain damage. I suppose that after testing that theory multiple times, I can confirm. At the ripe age of 24, I cannot remember anything.
I keep holding onto hope that everything will continue to improve. It gets to be discouraging when you can't remember something that occurred 5 minutes ago, and you can't seem to stop the reruns in your head of a horrific event that happened over a year ago.
It has been worth it so far, therefore I will not give up. Although most of the battle is silent, that doesn't mean it's over. I will continue to get through this, until it hurts less.
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“This is the textbook definition of domestic violence”
Over the last several months, I have found myself asking countless questions that I never thought I would ask. A lot of these questions stick in my brain, because there is simply no answer. There is only one person who could give a definite answer, but why would I ask? I would just be told another lie, or worse.
After several months of not sleeping, eating, or doing much at all, things are finally starting to feel like they just might be okay. I never thought that I would completely accept my impending death, and then have to start accepting the fact that I am still alive. I may have lost 30lbs, treasured artwork, thousands of dollars, platform doc Martens, clumps of hair, my confidence, and so much more, but I am glad to have my life.
How could someone have such little regard for human life, including their own? How many times can someone put a loaded g*n to their head and pull the trigger while saying “is there one in the chamber” through the biggest smile I have ever seen, before they don't get so lucky? How long does it take for them to condition others to think that this is normal behavior? How long does it take for him to turn it on them? Why did he smile more when I told him it wasn't funny, and told him to stop?
The disregard didn't stop there. Quite frankly, that was merely the beginning. Waving g*ns on the freeway, punching mirrors off cars, threatening others, slamming cats in the door, operating vehicles under the influence, exaggerating utility costs to cover addictions, constant degrading comments to and about everyone. The list just goes on and on.
It took me so long to understand what was happening. Even at that, I cannot even begin to understand why. I don't think I understood consciously that I was in danger until I was restrained and ended up getting hurt. I never received medical attention because I didn't want to have to tell them what happened. I had never had a concussion or broken a bone before, but I am pretty confident I have now. I never really had sinus issues before now either.
I never thought that I would spend hours in a courtroom reading texts. I never knew that something so dangerous could be disguised as something so sweet. I never thought that someone wearing an outfit that matches mine would be used to humiliate me into changing my outfit. I never thought that I could be so blinded by lovebombing.
I truly thought that I would be laughed at, and humiliated in that courtroom. I was so convinced that I had treated him horribly and I was the problem, despite doing my absolute best to love him unconditionally. There is a difference between unconditional love, and Stockholm syndrome.
After months of thinking I was absolutely insane because I just could not figure out why nothing added up, hearing the judge say “this is the textbook definition of domestic violence”, was the most relieving thing that I had heard. I used to think “well why don’t you just leave him?” when I heard stories about DV. You cannot ever truly understand unless you have experienced it.
Every “We are in this together, I love you so much” with a hug hits different after months of being treated like a bag of cheese that expires soon. When you are so starved of stability, peace, sleep, safety, financial wellbeing, and respect, the smallest amount of validation and reassurances feels like a grand gesture. When you give someone 10 miles, and they take 100, but give an inch back to you, it feels like so much more because you have nothing.
They say it takes a village to raise a child. Well, it takes a village to rehabilitate someone after they have been broken to pieces. It takes a village to help find the pieces, and squeeze the glue while they figure out how they go back together. Sometimes, the village even has to make a few new pieces, because things were just too damaged.
On the bright side, things will never be how they once were. Change is inevitable, and I will never be the same. At first, I was beyond upset by this. Now, I have accepted it. The stages of grief apply to more than just physical death, they also apply to the death of a version of oneself after experiencing great trauma.
I may have PTSD, but I also have a chance to feel alive again.
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Did I Just Ruin My Life?
After all the hell I have been through these last few months, I still find myself wondering if you are disappointed in me. Why on Earth would I care if my ex-boyfriend from years ago would even think about me now? It has been years since we have spoken.
There are so many reasons for this, really. It could be that I still want to be respectful towards you. I can clearly see why it would not seem that way from your perspective, though. I started dating one of your friends, and moved crossed the country into his house. I was under the impression that you all were no longer friends, and had a conversation about everything. I was so unsure about the whole thing, and took risks based on a false reality that was presented to me as all my dreams coming true.
I truly feel as there is no way for me to describe how detrimental that decision was. I cannot explain how much I genuinely wish that I would have reached out to you about him. I wanted to talk to you about this decision before I made it. I chose not to, because every time I brought it up to him he told me we would talk about it later. Later never came.
The only later that came was me finding out that he was a terrifying individual. Even typing those words comes with hesitation, because I am scared of retaliation, even after taking legal action. Every story you ever told me about him was retold in a completely different light, and somehow I managed to forget what you told me. I wish I would have held onto your words.
I am beyond embarrassed by my actions. I fell in love with a version of him that was stolen from you. I fell in love with the ways he said he was better than you. I was given this false presentation, just to be given hell instead. I would take what I went through with you over what he put me through any day. I may have been heartbroken over you, but at least I never feared for my life and the safety of those I love.
This whole situation was absurd, and my only regret. I truly do not think I could ever explain just how much I regret this decision, and how much it has impacted my life. Nor do I think that you would really care either way. All I wanted to do here is let you know that this decision was not made in effort to get back at you. This decision was made with hesitation and fear that it would hurt you.
In conclusion, this decision has been the worst one I've made thus far. I cannot help but to feel that I have deserved each consequence that has presented itself to me since then. I will be picking up the dust and trying to make pieces out of it to glue back together until further notice, because this has decimated my life and well-being.
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Things I May Never Get to Say Part 2.
I know it has been a while since we last spoke. I am still not doing the greatest, as I am sure you would expect. I have been doing my best to move on from you, I really have. It just seems that no matter what I do, I always end up crying, holding my chest, because I miss you so much.
Every song on my phone reminds me of you, and if I hear a song that I don’t know, I always relate it back to you. Every time I downshift in my car, I think of you, because you’re the one who taught me how to downshift. Every time I make dinner, I think of you, because the last few times we hung out, I cooked for you. Every time I am interested in someone, I think of you, because I cannot fathom how I could ever care about someone else, when I still care for you so deeply.
I heard that you got your GED, and are in school now. I know this is such a major step for you, and I am so proud. I don’t know what you are going for, but I hope it brings joy to your life. I hope that you finally see the amount of great potential that you have within you, and you never settle for less.
I don’t blame you, for how I feel, and I never could. How I feel about you is simply a matter of my own issues. I could sit, and explain for hours why I am the way that I am. I just don’t think it would even really be worth it at this point. I want you to be happy, so I am setting you free.
I truly do want what is best for you, my desires aside. Now, I see that it’s not me. Although my love for you compares to no other, you simply do not feel the same. I don’t blame you for thinking I am crazy.
I wish I could just plop you in my brain sometimes, just so you could see things from my perspective. I don’t want to manipulate you into thinking differently of me, I just wish you could understand where I am coming from. It was never a place of hatred, or harm. I just wanted to be enough for you.
I tried so hard to be enough for you, and I am still not quite sure why. I always just wanted to be enough for everybody. When I realized that I would never be enough for you, I tried to sabotage the possibility of any future contact, or relationship. I just desperately wanted you to hate me to the point of no return, so that it might be easier for me to stay away. This simply did not work. We always end up talking again, and it is just difficult for me to give up hope.
I don’t want to be shut out of your life, nor do I want to shut you out of mine. I just feel like when there is no possibility of things somehow working out, I am better off. I am not really the type to hook up with someone, but when that is what you’re willing to give me, I gladly take it, because that would be better than nothing from you.
It feels pretty pathetic at this point, considering that we barely ever actually dated. I guess after knowing someone for almost a decade, they become a little harder to forget. I know its irrational, and I won’t make an excuse for it. This is my problem to work through, not yours. That is why I am leaving you out of it, and letting you live your own life, without me causing stress or drama.
This may be the hardest thing I have ever had to do, to be honest with you. There is nothing that I want more than to come to Ohio, and see you, knowing that you feel just like home. Although you may not know just how much you have impacted me, I want you to know that you really helped me get through those rough teenage years at times. Sometimes, I just wish I wasn’t the one who got overly attached.
No matter how much I say to you, I will never feel like it is enough. I just have so much to say, and I don’t know if I will ever get the closure that I seek. I wish the place that you hold in my heart will one day feel less empty. It just seems that no matter how much work I do around this, that you always are in my heart.
I will be okay though, and I don’t want you to worry about me. I just want you to worry about yourself, and keep chasing the life you want. Maybe, if we cross paths again one day, we can catch up.
Never give up on yourself,
Al
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One for the Books
It started off perfectly. There was a genuine connection, and I felt as though I could be my authentic self. I felt as though the energy I was receiving was genuine. Things continued to progress, despite the red flags. I knew that I had red flags of my own, but because I genuinely am working on them, and you said you were too, I let them slide.
Red flags continued to glare while I sat, accepting them as they came. I believed you when you said you would stop drinking. You really did make an effort, and made quite a bit of progress in a short time, and for that, I admire you. The amount of strength and determination you showed impressed me by far. I watched from afar as you really turned things around for yourself.
Then came the excessive drinking and the rationalizations. I decided that I would stick around for a while, mostly because you talked very highly of yourself, and if what you said was true, you might just be perfect for me. We stayed up til 5 am on FaceTime more nights than I could count, and fuck it was so nice. It was so nice to have a genuine conversation with a man, and be able to speak my truth freely.
I cried on FaceTime with you. See, this rarely happens, even with my female friends. So, it took a lot for me to be that vulnerable with you, and you handled it so well, and even gave me good advice, and a new perspective. This was such a big deal to me, even though to you it probably didn’t mean anything.
We talked all day and all night for weeks. It was so refreshing to have a man listen to me, and genuinely understand where I am coming from. It was new to me to speak about what goes on in my head, and not be called crazy. I really applaud you for the words of inspiration you spoke to me, and for your perspective on things. I was going through a lot, and quite honestly, you were the only thing keeping me sane a few times.
You truthfully are the only man who has ever been able to get through to me. You knew just how to talk to me, and just what to say. I really would’ve heard you out on anything you had to say, about anything.
Then came time for you to move back home. It was rough. I understood, gave you time and space, and only requested that you tell me when you’re busy. You did such an amazing job with this for a couple weeks, and I was still happy to talk to you when you had time. It was okay that we couldn’t talk all night anymore, because I had to start getting my sleep schedule together, anyway.
After that came the character tests. You asked my ex questions about me, and then asked me the same questions. This was a little questionable, but given that you guys are close friends, it was understandable. Thank God I have been completely honest with you about everything, and my answers matched his. I was just slightly confused because you told me you guys didn’t really talk anymore. It kind of hurt my feelings when you told me that the only way to test my loyalty would be to put me in a room with both of you. That objectifies me, and is disrespectful.
I told you I still had unresolved feelings for my ex. You told me this was okay, and it wouldn’t cause an issue. I did not believe it. I shouldn’t have believed it based on multiple factors.
You told me that the only reason I liked you was because you are exactly like my ex. I wouldn’t say this is wrong. I would say it isn’t true, because I never spoke to him about the things I spoke to you about, and never felt as comfortable with him. You share many qualities, but at the time, I thought you had so much more than him to offer, and saw you in a completely different light.
I got upset with you when you told me about your night drinking excessively. You insisted on telling me that I was looking for an out. I wasn’t. I was looking for and IN. I simply cared about your wellbeing, and I didn’t present it well. I could’ve approached it differently, but your reaction would’ve been the exact same.
Then came the jokes about doing cocaine. You told me they were just jokes, but then would say “you really think I am joking???”. You continued to reassure me that it was just a joke. Then a few days go by, and you tell me it wasn’t a joke. So, you lied to me. I accepted this, told you it made me uncomfortable, and you got upset with me. It wasn’t handled well. I still was okay with things, until you did cocaine on FaceTime with me and my best friend. That was outright disrespectful, considering I specifically asked you not to do so. I got an apology, and moved on after things were brushed off. You told me that you “won’t get another bag.”.
After that conversation, I heard from you less. I no longer was being updated on if you were busy all day. I would just get a text at 5am with an excuse. This is exactly what I said I wouldn’t tolerate. We had a FaceTime date scheduled, and you missed it. We talked the next day. That is when you told me you are still doing cocaine. I got upset, and told you I would talk to you later. You tried to manipulate me into talking to you by saying “Don’t do this. I made my friend leave so I could talk to you.” I pointed this out as manipulation, and you just don’t see it. I called you back. I explained all of the things I have written here tonight.
I explained to you that I have been going through a lot lately, and you said the same about yourself. It was a good conversation. Towards the end you continued to rationalize your cocaine use, after I have explained to you that it is essentially a crock of shit. So I explained to you that I care about you a lot, and probably more than you care about me. I was happy to listen to you vent a bit, but it came to the point where I can’t do it anymore. I can hear someone out when they are being open and honest with themselves, like it was at the beginning. Everything changed when you moved back home. I explained that drugs are something I will not tolerate. You continued with rationalizations. I told you that I just want you to be more responsible, and make better decisions for yourself, and you insisted that I was telling you what to do. It really sucks that it had to end like this. I am honestly hurt by it. I get it. You have issues you have to work through. So go do your thing. Just know that you chose cocaine over me.
You insisted that you were just like my ex, and I didn’t see that in you. After your actions started to stray from your words, I started to understand what you meant. After you started doing everything I told you he did that hurt me, I understood. Congratulations. You wanted me to see that you are just like him, and you won.
Regardless, I still wish you the best, and hope I helped you as much on your journey as you helped me. I am just proud of myself for sticking to my boundaries, even if I strayed from them. Thank you for the lesson.
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“Just forgive him. He did the best he could.”
Did he? Did he really do the best he could? In my opinion, he didn’t. I cannot accept his trip to the mental institution because he had a plan to kill us in our sleep as “doing his best”. I cannot accept the numerous delusions he has presented to me as his best. Despite the fact that I was a child, I still knew things weren’t right. The way he would yell at my grandmother, and throw her back in the passenger seat of his car, was not his best.
What about the constant custody battles to see his beloved daughters? Oh, you mean the ones that he finally won, and then decided to flee the state? He got what he wanted. It still wasn’t good enough for him. He chose to leave us at home alone for hours while he went out. He refused to buy groceries when there was only stale rainbow goldfish, and expired applesauce.
What about the dogs he got to make his house more fun? Oh, you mean the ones that would attack me when unprovoked? The ones that shit on the floor, and got thrown down a flight of steps every time they misbehaved, even though they weighed 6 pounds? The ones that would be bathed with hostility every time they had an accident, and you could see the fear in their eyes? The ones that I worried about every time we left, because they weren’t given water? The ones that he left in the basement for days with a puppy pad and food left out while he kidnapped us? The ones that I knew were being abused and neglected worse when we weren’t around? Yeah, they were great.
What about the fun trips he took you on? Oh, you mean when he kidnapped us? When he took us crossed state lines, violating his custody agreement, when he could’ve arranged it legally instead? You mean when he got angry with me at 9 years old because I forgot my swimsuit and couldn’t go swimming at the hotel? You mean when he used his kids as pawns to get attention from Sarah Evans while stalking her in the middle of winter while it was dark outside?
What about when he would give you his undivided attention? You mean when he came to pick me up, told me to get in the car and proceeded to scream at my mother and stepfather while I was locked in the back seat?
What about when he left Ohio to better his life? Oh, you mean when he threw a pity party for himself after he lost his condo and moved back in with his dad? You mean when he fled the state because he had exhausted his options of people to take him in? You mean when clearly he was the issue, because nobody let him stay long? You mean when he bounced around from state to state, and we had no idea where he was? You mean when he stopped paying child support, and demonized my mom?
“He always loved you girls more than you’ll know.” No. He didn’t. If he loved us as much as he claimed, he would have been there, or disappeared completely. He wouldn’t have pulled at our heart strings, and then played victim. He wouldn’t have forced a DNA test into my mouth to see if I was even his daughter. If he loved us in the slightest, he would step up to the plate, and taken responsibility, and told the truth. I never asked for a perfect father. Quite frankly, I didn’t ask for anything at all. Now, all I am asking for is the truth. What do I get instead? Denial. Hostility. Distance. Placed blame.
He doesn’t know that I know what I know. He doesn’t know that I have seen physical letters that he has written. He doesn’t know that I am half the reason he got placed in the mental institution the last time. He doesn’t know that I truly believe that he murdered 3 people. He doesn’t know how many nights I have sobbed just wishing I had a father.
He doesn’t know that our relationship will never exist unless he takes full responsibility for his choices, because I am too scared of what his reaction might be. He probably doesn’t even remember half of the trauma I have from him. He doesn’t know that I know a lot more than what I have said here, because I am too scared to put it out into the Universe.
He doesn’t know any of the trauma that I have because he wasn’t there. He doesn’t understand that I pick emotionally unavailable, abusive, predators as boyfriends, because that’s what he taught me I deserved. He doesn’t understand that the abandonment he gave me, and the trauma he gave me left me with permanent mental illnesses that I have to spend the rest of my life coping with, because he was to weak to do that himself.
He doesn’t know that I have let men abuse me my whole life, because that is the standard he set. He doesn’t know that I am not comfortable telling him anything about myself, because I am fucking scared of him. He doesn’t know that there is a reason he never had my address when I lived alone. He doesn’t know that the reason he is so paranoid about my safety is because he, himself, is the reason I don’t feel safe.
I could go on for days about things like how he trapped my sister in the basement, or how he screamed at me for using his phone. I could blame him the rest of my life for my issues. It won’t solve anything, because at the end of the day, all I ever wanted was a family. Instead of wasting my time in another abusive relationship with a man, I am just going to learn from it.
I work so hard every day to better myself to break the generational traumas in my family, but it is so fucking hard. It is hard to be the one who sees everything for exactly what it is, and being so understanding. I have given up on having a relationship with you, dad. You just refuse to take responsibility, and the price you pay for that is our relationship.
I am not drawing a line in the sand, but I am no longer doing things that make me uncomfortable. Until things are discussed honestly, and without hostility, I have no words left to say.
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I Don’t Remember
One thing that I have learned over the years is the idea of suppressed, and repressed memories. Repressed memories are memories that are unconsciously blocked, whereas suppressed memories are deliberately blocked. I am not an expert on this matter, but I can assure that I have experienced both.
I have realized that my brain has protected me from numerous things, in numerous ways. There are certain things from my past that I can only recall very short glimpses of, and my brain refuses to think any further into the memory. I am not really sure why that might be, but at this point, I am perfectly fine with not knowing.
I have also come to the realization that, I don’t remember a lot from my childhood, or past. I remember a handful of in depth details about a few select people, but my memory is shot. I am not exactly sure what the cause of my poor memory is. It could be trauma related, or alcohol related.
On a day to day basis, if I don’t write down almost every task that needs to be accomplished, I won’t remember the majority of them. It takes a severe amount of effort for me to recall a lot of things, and with that comes frustration.
For so long, I have lived my life in survival mode. Now that I am coming out of that, my brain feels like its covered in cobwebs, and needs maintenance. This is incredibly frustrating. Every day, I wish that my brain would function as a normal persons would. I feel like most days are a battle. I am grateful to finally get the chance to overcome my past, and turn my future into something great, but it is so exhausting.
The little things, like eating breakfast, setting an alarm, or even just breathing, are an absolute chore for me. Life is just like a rollercoaster right now, and this is how it has always been. I can’t remember a time in my life where I was stable for an extended amount of time.
I am doing my best to take things one day at a time, and I have made a lot of progress, but it is just constantly wearing me out.
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Got me Thinkin
I cannot fathom why you always come back to me, or why I always go back to you. At this point, it is just baffling. It does not make sense. Despite the good times, we have hurt each other countless times, and one might say we are hopeless. I cannot see what the purpose in this is. At this moment, it seems to provide further false hope, and detriment. I feel like I am missing the lesson in all of this. I feel as though there has to be more than what meets the eye.
I cannot sit and dwell upon this, but there is a reason that the Universe keeps placing you in my life, and I simply have not figured it out, yet. It is quite frustrating to me, considering the countless methods I have tried in order to move on, and leave you in the past. There is not a single man on this Earth that I cannot leave be, besides you. As many times as I thought I was ready to leave you in the past, I am not.
I cannot stop wondering how you are doing, and wanting to speak to you. This attachment is incredibly frustrating to me, and it is nothing personal towards you. This is my own issue, but I am just at a loss for words when it comes to why. It seems as though I have created an unbreakable bond to you, and truthfully, it feels like you have created one with me.
It is so confusing because your actions never match your words, and mine really don’t either. The whole situation just makes no sense. You cross my mind on a daily basis, and sometimes, you’re even in my dreams. Half the songs I hear remind me of you. A lot of the things I see remind me of you.
At this point, I just feel insane. I feel like I’m obsessed. Right now, all I want to do is understand. I want to learn the purpose behind this, because I am exhausted. What is the reason?
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You Requested to Follow me on Instagram Yesterday,
I truthfully cannot find a word to describe how this made me feel. The only thing I can really say is that it triggered me, and it is not fair. The fact that after five years, you still hold that power over me pisses me off.
The fact that I have now spent more than 24 hours replaying the scenario in my head in which you took all of my power from me. The fact that I was spending time with my boyfriend holding back what I was feeling, because when the scenario plays back in my head, I feel completely powerless, all over again. The fact that my boyfriend asked me if I was okay, and I couldn’t tell him the truth, because I felt like I couldn’t. The fact that when you have been through something this traumatic, it changes you. The fact that I blame myself for the whole thing, and can’t even hold you responsible. The fact that I view men completely differently now. The fact that I want to rip my skin off when anything reminds me of you. The fact that I feel like I deserved it. The fact that I am not the only one you did this to. The fact that you had the audacity to request to follow me on Instagram. The fact that I don’t feel safe when anything that reminds me of you comes up. The fact that I jump when someone touches me. The fact that you clearly have no idea how I feel, nor would you care if you did know. The fact that when I finally told my boyfriend what was wrong, I couldn’t hold back my tears. The fact that I have to live with this for the rest of my life. The fact that there are so many other people out there experiencing this feeling.
Now, it is not always like this, and it does get better, but sometimes I just get flashbacks, and it feels like I am in the situation all over again. As someone who has survived a lot of trauma, I have learned many helpful coping skills, and they usually work. Sometimes, when you’re out of practice, it just feels worse, and it isn’t easy to snap out of it. Trauma isn’t easy to deal with, and healing isn’t always a beautiful process. Sometimes it is crying all the way home wishing things were different, and sometimes it is fully accepting things and knowing you are stronger because of it. It isn’t a straight line, and there is no final destination.
So what I am saying is, if you choose to have someone in your life who has been through some shit, you have to be patient. You have to be gentle with them sometimes, and you have to be understanding.
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Nausea and Medication
Lately, I haven’t been feeling very well. I have decided that it is time to get off of my antidepressants. I no longer wish to rely on medications to stabilize my mood, and truth be told, they really don’t make much of a difference anyway. I know what you’re thinking. “Don’t do that without a doctors permission!”. I know exactly what I am getting myself into here.
I have been on and off medication since I was 14, and I have tried damn near every one of them. They do NOT work for me. They never have, and never will. I only seem to get the negative side effects, without the positive elements of it. They make me sleepy, or over eat, or nauseous. They do not make me less depressed, more happy, or anything of that nature.
What I need is a change in lifestyle, which I am working on. Everyday I take baby steps to better myself, and it is not easy. Pulling yourself out of depressive episodes is not easy. This is even more difficult when you are having withdrawal symptoms from not taking your medication. It isn’t as bad when you are aware of exactly what is happening, but it is still difficult. Simple things like eating, and drinking water become a chore, because you feel nauseous, and exhausted.
All of this is fine, because I know it is just temporary, but that doesn’t make it any less real. I wish that I could just sleep until my body readjusts, but that is unhealthy. It is going to simply take time to feel normal again, and this is something that I have accepted.
Overall, I am okay. I feel just okay. I am doing my best, and that is simply all I can do for now, and that is okay.
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U Deserve It
We only accept the love that we believe we deserve. For me, that has never been much. I have settled for back burner bitch so many times. I used to be okay with not being a priority at all. I accepted that I would never be in a meaningful relationship. This all stems from my daddy issues.
My dad left me as a child and did not make me a priority. This left me feeling like that is how men are supposed to treat me. Any time I receive anything different than that, I panic. It is so different for me. I have struggled my whole life with making genuine connections with men. I have struggled with being treated decently by men.
In all reality I used to have such a sick perspective on men. I used to use men for what I wanted, and then throw them away. Men were disposable to me, as was I disposable to men. It took me a long time to realize that this was how I really felt. That is a tough reality to come to. Not only did I not respect the male gender, they didn’t respect me. No wonder all of my relationships were so toxic.
I have, in fact, worked through this twisted mindset. It wasn’t easy, but that’s okay. Now I am open to receive what I need. I no longer have to have short term, toxic relationships.
After working through these issues, I have had an amazing opportunity come my way, and I don’t know how to act. This relationship is so different to me, and I know that I deserve it. I have spent entirely too much time in relationships that I poured into, and received nothing in return. It is time that I get what I truly deserve.
I deserve to be seen in the daytime. I deserve to hear “I miss you”. I deserve to be shown off and meet people. I deserve to be a priority, and valued. I deserve to be appreciated. I deserve everything that you give to me. I deserve to get what I give.
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Mental Health Awareness
Of course living through a pandemic is tough. Our favorite places are closed, socialization is limited, and every sniffle comes with racing thoughts like, “What if I end up on a ventilator?” or, “How will I pay my bills if I have to take off work to quarantine?” I mean really, the list of gut wrenching questions goes on and on forever.
While going through these many tragedies, we all laugh and chalk it up to “Oh, that’s 2020 for you.” There has been an emphasis on mental health and self care throughout these times from numerous institutions. It’s obvious; the world right now is difficult. Things keep happening where you just have to look up to the sky and ask What the hell??? to whoever it is that you believe in (God, Allah, Kanye West, the Universe, idk, I’m not judging).
It’s tough for everyone. I get that. This year has been like no other.
But what about those who have suffered depression long before all of this began?
I remember dealing with bouts of sadness as a child. I always thought I was just sensitive. It went on into high school. Sometimes I would drive to school and just think, “okay, I guess I’m going to be sad today.” Nothing had caused it per say, it was just the feeling I often felt.
Throughout college, it continued. I was meeting my goals. I was living my best life and having so much fun along the way. Still however, there were many days where I would lie in bed, doing absolutely nothing, because I felt “sad.”
Being a super goal oriented person, I always just assumed I felt this way because I needed to achieve my next goal. I couldn’t sit still. I needed to keep working. I kept myself busy.
Now as I end year 24 and move on to year 25 of life, I look around and realize I have everything I could possibly want. The house, the dream car, the marriage, the family, food on the table, enough money to do a small bit of traveling. Why then do I often still feel sad?
It’s because depression shows no mercy.
It doesn’t matter who you are or what you have. It victimizes you and doesn’t release you from its numbing grip. You can fight it, but it will still always be there, lingering in the background, waiting until your most vulnerable time to strike.
Depression stinks. No, literally. It leaves you in the same clothes for days, if not weeks. Showers become slim. Your hair becomes a giant tangled knot that is going to take hours to brush through when you come out on the other side. When was the last time I brushed my teeth?
Depression is paralyzing. Wake up, sit on the couch, lay in bed, repeat. Gotta go to work? That’s fine. But when you get home, you’ll be sitting on the couch mindlessly scrolling social media for hours, unable to move or put any real thought into anything.
Depression is leaving yourself shipwrecked on an island. Except there are tons of people on the island trying to help you, but all you feel is loneliness and the desire to remain alone.
Depression is having a multitude of missed calls and untouched voicemails on your phone and being plagued by panic when the phone does ring. The guilt sets in, but the lack of energy from feeling dark blue prevails.
Depression is looking at the dishes and laundry stacked up, but going to lay in bed so you don’t have to look at it anymore.
Depression feels like a roller coaster, except you aren’t having fun. You can feel yourself at the peak, getting reading to descend into the dark tunnel ahead. There is no emergency stop button, only a blank expression as you dive into the abyss.
Depression looks and feels different for everyone, but nonetheless it is the most difficult sickness I have ever dealt with. This post barely even touches what a depressive episode looks like. The good news is there is light at the end of the tunnel. The roller coaster might break down for a bit inside that lightless tunnel, but eventually it will get moving again. Sometimes it just needs a little extra fuel, like buying an iced coffee or binge watching old seasons of The Bachelor for a few days.
What I’m trying to say is: take care of yourself, even if that means laying in bed and doing nothing for a few days, ask for help when you need it (from a friend, family member, or more importantly, a doctor), and stay on the roller coaster because I promise, even in the darkest tunnels, there will be light again.
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Christmas
This year it is going to be a lonely Christmas. No big tree, no friends, just me and my mom. I want to say I am okay with this, but I am still working on accepting it. It is going to b e different, and I am a creature of habit.
I thought about going to Ohio for the holiday, but it turns out it is going to be a lonely holiday for my family, too. Nobody is getting together this year, due to covid. Ohio is on lockdown, and nobody can see family this year.
Things are changing every day, and I’m hesitant to embrace it. For me, change is uncomfortable. Nobody enjoys being uncomfortable. I have been uncomfortable for the last 6 months, and things are finally starting to fall into place for me.
So, this Christmas will be spent with my mother, and cats, celebrating. Now, I am not religious, so I won’t be celebrating Jesus, but I will be celebrating all that my Higher Power has done for me, and continues to do for me.
I am so thankful that things are changing, but boy is it difficult.
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Letting Go
Sometimes you just have to let go. You have to start over, and just fully let go, no matter how hard it is. You have to let yourself move on, and leave people in the past that you miss every day, because all you’re doing is hurting each other.
Sometimes, it is hard to accept that someones part in your life is over. For me, I am coming to terms with the fact that many people that were in my life only a few months ago, are no longer with me. No, they aren’t dead, or dead to me, we’ve simply outgrown each other.
I have tried with all my power to hang on to these people, and watched as it dragged me down. I knew exactly what I was doing, but felt like a prisoner to old habits. I wanted back my old life, that I so desperately missed. Knowing that it was destructive, I had to consciously make the decision to let go of these people.
Growing apart from people is painful. The only way I can describe these feelings I have currently is, well, growing pains. Growing isn’t easy. Acceptance isn’t easy. But it is all worth it.
Once you let go, new opportunities come knocking at your door. You just have to get through the hard part, to get to the enjoyable part. I have a world of opportunity in my hands, and it is a little scary. I am walking into unfamiliar territory, and it really takes time to find your balance.
Right now? I am just going with the flow as much as I possibly can. Nothing is easy right now, and that is okay. This is merely the beginning of a new chapter. It just kinda feels like the author doesn’t know what it is really about yet.
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