You hold your compassion and your tenderness close to your chest - like it is a gift that should only be given on special occasions...
When did you start to think that by withholding your love and affections that you would protect yourself?! Open your eyes! You aren't living - you aren't smiling and laughing and throwing yourself at the world - daring it to challenge you. No, instead you have become the world. You have become dark, and withdrawn, and hard. You've become that which hurt you, and because of your misguided conception of peace and safety you are doing to others as was done to you.
Can't you see?
I love you. You are wonderful. You are strong. You are powerful. You are kind. You are everything that is good. And there's so much that I want to show you....
I want to show you how to play in the fall leaves. How to dance in the downpour. How to throw back your head and laugh on the mountain tops. How to sob in the valleys... I want to show you how to feel again.
Can't you see?
Life is so beautiful, and you are hiding from it. Please, take my hand and step out of the shadows. Laugh with me and sing with me. You don't have to trust me. I might hurt you. But you see, that's what makes this all so wonderful. It's what makes the happy moments so much sweeter - because you have chosen to share a piece of yourself with someone else, and they have valued it. And if they don't, then move on to someone else who does.
Can't you see?
You aren't fighting by holding onto the past. You aren't fighting by becoming hard and distant. You aren't fighting by tucking yourself close to your chest and away from the world. No, you have given up the fight. To fight is to go against the current! To fight is to glare into the face of potential pain and continue forward! You have not won, you have hidden. Hidden behind your anger. And your fear. And the injustices you have faced.
Come out!
Please! This is a battle worth fighting. Don't you see!? There is joy on the other side. There is healing. There is a life you have given up hope on. It's not too far away. It's not impossible to reach. It's not out of range. You can still have that! Yes, there's been pain... I know that there's been pain... Pain you don't even admit to at times... But you see, that pain could make possible joys so much sweeter, if you would just push through.
Just because the night is dark, do you refuse to turn on the lights in the morning? NO! You stumble around your room looking for the light switch, and once you find it you fling it on - casting the night away! Just because you have been, and maybe are still in, a dark situation does not mean there is not light. Don't give up on your dreams because the path to get to them is different than you thought it would be. Please, don't give up.
Have courage, dear heart. Have courage.
Friday, November 7, 2014
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
Plan #3 - Happy Place!
After all of this happened I was skittish of being along. I didn't want to be left with my thoughts. And when I was, I sunk into such a dark place that I couldn't pull myself out of it. I think that is the worst crime these men committed. They made me afraid of myself.
So, since I didn't like that, I changed it. I started intentionally making time to be alone. But not just that, I planned something I could do during that time. I wasn't just going to sit in a corner and mope. I wasn't punishing myself for goodness sakes - I was treating myself! And you know, as I've started doing something every day that makes me happy to be alone, I've stopped feeling like something has been stolen from me. It's making it easier to see the beauty of this world rather than just the darkness in it. I have hope - and it's a hope no one can steal from me because it doesn't depend on anyone but myself, and that is truly a beautiful thing.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Placing your hope in a better man coming along - or in my case a past boyfriend coming back - is a recipe for disaster.
Allow me to explain...
If another man does come along, and you're hope is in him saving you or healing you, then you are more likely to ignore (or simply not see) red flags. Let's follow that through. If you can't see or don't listen to those red flags then it is very likely that you are going to get stuck in that relationship, good or bad. Your freedom of choice is gone because you've used your hope to chain yourself to the next man that comes along. Terrible, terrible idea.
But what if we were to put our hope in something else? Something we know to be inherently good? Something that has always brought us peace in the past? What if we changed our focus so that our healing and happiness depended on us rather than someone else... What if we could start that healing now rather than waiting on the perfect guy to come along. What if...
Hence the reason for the title of this post - find your happy place! Find the things you can do that make you happy.
For me that has been going on hikes over the weekend. Running after work along a gorgeous path by my apartment. Watching sappy, goofy movies at night when the memories are hardest to fight. Carving pumpkins with my church group. Eating lunch outside under the awnings. Fishing by the dam....
It really doesn't matter what you do - so long as it doesn't depend on another individual. Get alone and enjoy it! Because, like it or not, you are going to have to live with yourself for the rest of your life. You are the only person guaranteed to be in your life until you pass away.
So, since I didn't like that, I changed it. I started intentionally making time to be alone. But not just that, I planned something I could do during that time. I wasn't just going to sit in a corner and mope. I wasn't punishing myself for goodness sakes - I was treating myself! And you know, as I've started doing something every day that makes me happy to be alone, I've stopped feeling like something has been stolen from me. It's making it easier to see the beauty of this world rather than just the darkness in it. I have hope - and it's a hope no one can steal from me because it doesn't depend on anyone but myself, and that is truly a beautiful thing.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Placing your hope in a better man coming along - or in my case a past boyfriend coming back - is a recipe for disaster.
Allow me to explain...
If another man does come along, and you're hope is in him saving you or healing you, then you are more likely to ignore (or simply not see) red flags. Let's follow that through. If you can't see or don't listen to those red flags then it is very likely that you are going to get stuck in that relationship, good or bad. Your freedom of choice is gone because you've used your hope to chain yourself to the next man that comes along. Terrible, terrible idea.
But what if we were to put our hope in something else? Something we know to be inherently good? Something that has always brought us peace in the past? What if we changed our focus so that our healing and happiness depended on us rather than someone else... What if we could start that healing now rather than waiting on the perfect guy to come along. What if...
Hence the reason for the title of this post - find your happy place! Find the things you can do that make you happy.
For me that has been going on hikes over the weekend. Running after work along a gorgeous path by my apartment. Watching sappy, goofy movies at night when the memories are hardest to fight. Carving pumpkins with my church group. Eating lunch outside under the awnings. Fishing by the dam....
It really doesn't matter what you do - so long as it doesn't depend on another individual. Get alone and enjoy it! Because, like it or not, you are going to have to live with yourself for the rest of your life. You are the only person guaranteed to be in your life until you pass away.
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Courage?
I have been confusing 'hardness of heart' with 'strength' lately, and 'desperation' with 'courage'. Silly me, I should know better by now. Any animal will fight when backed into a corner - true courage is sometimes choosing not to fight. Or at least, choosing to fight the enemy within rather than the enemies without.
This world. . . it frightens me. I am afraid so often now - but that's ok because it means I have a challenge. Does that make any sense? A step forward is not just a step forward anymore. Now it is an act of defiance. Now each step I take is saying "I have more faith in myself and my God than my fear of you".
This world. . . it frightens me. I am afraid so often now - but that's ok because it means I have a challenge. Does that make any sense? A step forward is not just a step forward anymore. Now it is an act of defiance. Now each step I take is saying "I have more faith in myself and my God than my fear of you".
A step is not just a step anymore.
I want to make war on this world. I want to be angry. I want to deliver justice.. But I do not want to live a life at war. I do not want to hate and I do not want to harden my heart... But I want to be safe. Is that too much to ask for? Yes, unfortunately it is. There is nothing more I could have done to stop what happened a couple weeks ago, and so there is little more I can do to guarantee that it will not happen again.
Hell.
I've seen it in their eyes.
Hell.
I've felt it in their hands.
Hell.
I've tasted it on their lips.
Hell.
It has looked upon me, touched me, kissed me..
Hell.
It shall not have me.
One day I will no longer be afraid. One day I'll be able to go on a date without keeping my eyes on the exits. I'll be able to close my eyes and not see them. I'll be able to sleep a whole night through and not wake in terror... And maybe one day someone stronger than me will protect me so that I can let my guard down again.
I don't know why I'm writing this... Maybe it's because I hope that by writing it out, it will strengthen my resolve to never give up hope for something better.
I went hiking this weekend... Our world is such a beautiful place! How the sun played across the surface of the creeks... It's all so peaceful. No matter how dark my world gets, it can't take the sun from me. It can't take away my memories of forgotten trails and dark forests. Of Robert's arms around me. Of the way he used to look at me and smile, for no reason at all. Of watching children chase frogs into the creeks and squealing as they got splashed each time.
The darkness would have us believe that it can overpower the light in our lives. But a single candle can chase away a room full of darkness. A single smile, a kind word, an innocent laugh and suddenly the world is light again.
Friday, October 24, 2014
Plan #2 - Spoil
I got to thinking...
Part of the problem with this whole situation is that I felt used. I felt like I meant nothing. Like I was nothing. THAT was the problem. Physically, I was safe. Emotionally, I was not.
So, what do you do when the world treats you like trash for no good reason? Well, I figured I'd just start treating myself better than that.
The way I see it - if I can't count on others to treat me well and value who I am, than I would simply have to value myself.
I'm learning, every day, to take the time to do something that makes me feel beautiful. Even if that just means tweezing my eyebrows! At first I felt foolish.. Why was I wasting time on superficial beauty? Why was I putting my energy in something so selfish as me?
But you see, it's not about being selfish. It's about having self pride. About saying that you are worth the time and attention. It's about wanting to look your best because you value who you are. Think about it - if you love and value a dear friend in your life, do you not take the time out every now and then to go for a walk with them? Or go to get your nails done? Or do your hair together? You're showing her that you value her. Why on earth do we not treat ourselves with the same respect?!
And you know what? As I've learned to take the time to do something that makes me feel beautiful, my mindset is changing and I'm unconsciously expecting others to treat me better. I'm expecting others to treat me with respect and difference. Not in a conceited way, but because I now have a standard. I was on the verge of thinking that I deserved no better than what I had received in the past. That it was a reflection of who I am that all these things happened to me. NO! No, it's not. It's a reflection of who they are. They made the choice. They didn't listen. They showed no honor. It is not a reflection of who you are when others treat you bad... The reflection of who you are is how long you allow them to treat you bad.
Angry - by TB LaBerge
Part of the problem with this whole situation is that I felt used. I felt like I meant nothing. Like I was nothing. THAT was the problem. Physically, I was safe. Emotionally, I was not.
So, what do you do when the world treats you like trash for no good reason? Well, I figured I'd just start treating myself better than that.
The way I see it - if I can't count on others to treat me well and value who I am, than I would simply have to value myself.
I'm learning, every day, to take the time to do something that makes me feel beautiful. Even if that just means tweezing my eyebrows! At first I felt foolish.. Why was I wasting time on superficial beauty? Why was I putting my energy in something so selfish as me?
But you see, it's not about being selfish. It's about having self pride. About saying that you are worth the time and attention. It's about wanting to look your best because you value who you are. Think about it - if you love and value a dear friend in your life, do you not take the time out every now and then to go for a walk with them? Or go to get your nails done? Or do your hair together? You're showing her that you value her. Why on earth do we not treat ourselves with the same respect?!
And you know what? As I've learned to take the time to do something that makes me feel beautiful, my mindset is changing and I'm unconsciously expecting others to treat me better. I'm expecting others to treat me with respect and difference. Not in a conceited way, but because I now have a standard. I was on the verge of thinking that I deserved no better than what I had received in the past. That it was a reflection of who I am that all these things happened to me. NO! No, it's not. It's a reflection of who they are. They made the choice. They didn't listen. They showed no honor. It is not a reflection of who you are when others treat you bad... The reflection of who you are is how long you allow them to treat you bad.
Angry - by TB LaBerge
Thursday, October 23, 2014
Plan #1 - Fight
I need a plan.
I need something to fight - a physical challenge to beat. So I'm going to work my ass off.
Running, weights, the climbing gym... I will push myself beyond my limits until I have such an iron mental control that I can deal with this.
It's too raw right now... I walk down that path and I get lost inside the storm inside of me. So I'm going to train myself to bend my emotions to my mind. Once I can control myself, I can deal with what happened. Patience - I need to use it on myself.
I don't have to have all of the answers now. I don't have to deal with it now. I have to make myself ready first. It's my "why". The reason I use to get out of bed in the morning to run. The reason I stay up late working with weights.
I am not using this to distract myself or to forget what happened. No, it stays at the front of my mind. It is the reason why I will push until I can't. Why I will get back up when I think I can't.
Why. I. Will. Not. Quit.
J will not win. What he did will not cripple me. I will not quit. I will not give up. I will fight - because I am worth it, whether they think so or not. I will fight because no one else is going to fight for me. I cannot wait for a knight in shinning armor. No one is going to sweep in and make this hell into heaven....
So I will.
I'm finished with hating reality, so I'm going to change it. No more living how I 'should'. I'm quite simply just going to live.
Words
Words....
People love to give them out - makes the speaker feel as if they are doing something helpful and relieves them of their guilt for not actually being there. But these only seem to leave us (the recipients) lonelier than ever. It's so easy in this day to do. We respond with a text instead of a visit. A message instead of a phone call... Human contact is so very important, especially after it has been used in such a wrong way. We need a reminder that human touch is good. We need to be close to someone who will not injure us in order to believe that the harm we'd suffered was not the world, just a piece of it.
Words aren't what we need!
We need a hug. Someone to hold our hand. Someone to go for a walk with. To steal us away from this hell that we're in and give us a chance to recuperate. To just listen, put their arm around our shoulders, and tell us that it's all going to be ok - because they won't abandon us. We need hope. We need a reason to believe that the world is still good. That it's still worth living in..
And we need a plan. A goal. Something to be working towards.
Everyone seems to say "you're strong, you can get through this".... But it gets so flipping exhausting being strong all of the time. Sometimes we just don't have any "strong" left and we need someone to step in and be that for us.
People love to give them out - makes the speaker feel as if they are doing something helpful and relieves them of their guilt for not actually being there. But these only seem to leave us (the recipients) lonelier than ever. It's so easy in this day to do. We respond with a text instead of a visit. A message instead of a phone call... Human contact is so very important, especially after it has been used in such a wrong way. We need a reminder that human touch is good. We need to be close to someone who will not injure us in order to believe that the harm we'd suffered was not the world, just a piece of it.
Words aren't what we need!
We need a hug. Someone to hold our hand. Someone to go for a walk with. To steal us away from this hell that we're in and give us a chance to recuperate. To just listen, put their arm around our shoulders, and tell us that it's all going to be ok - because they won't abandon us. We need hope. We need a reason to believe that the world is still good. That it's still worth living in..
And we need a plan. A goal. Something to be working towards.
Everyone seems to say "you're strong, you can get through this".... But it gets so flipping exhausting being strong all of the time. Sometimes we just don't have any "strong" left and we need someone to step in and be that for us.
Eric Thomas
I was listening to Eric Thomas (if you don't know who this is - look him up. Don't judge the book by its cover!) and a lot of what he was saying was really helpful.
I. Call to action:
a. Think about positive solutions and stop empowering the problem!
- "whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things." Philippians 4:8
- Think about what you're thinking about and be deliberate about it.
b. STOP making a god out of the problem!
- The problem has now become the problem...
- The problem is that you don't have a solution for the problem! That's the dog-gone problem!
I. Call to action:
a. Think about positive solutions and stop empowering the problem!
- "whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things." Philippians 4:8
- Think about what you're thinking about and be deliberate about it.
b. STOP making a god out of the problem!
- The problem has now become the problem...
- The problem is that you don't have a solution for the problem! That's the dog-gone problem!
I CAN... move past this
I WILL... move past this
I MUST... move past this
"You deserve to see what your life would be like if you put 120% into it."
But what is success? What is the solution? What do I need to be doing to get there? How do I get there? How do I get better? How do I find the will to keep going? These are questions Eric couldn't give me answers to - questions I'm still trying to find answers to.
.... The last guy to use me (let's just call him "J") texted me asking for nude photos of me... And then proceeded to get angry and incensed when I wouldn't send them... It was the last straw. How much lower could I get?! I was nothing to these men. Nothing but a nice looking piece of meat. But you know what? I am something to me. I matter to me. And they had no right to treat me the way that they did. No right. So I'm not going to let them continue to. I've blocked J's number from my phone. If I am pregnant, I know where to find him to tell him (And I'll take someone with me to do it!) - but I will not have him in my life. I simply won't put up with it any longer.
Immediate Reaction
After the third guy, I started going through every emotion imaginable...
"I can feel myself falling apart, but I don't know how to catch the pieces.. I'm really scared"
"I can't do this again! I can't go through this again. I can't. My body just healed from the last guy a few moths ago. I was finally free of the memories. I was doing good! I can't... not again. I can't do this."
"I don't want to heal. Am I supposed to spend months healing again only to have another man do this to me? What's the point? What's the point to any of it?"
"I... It's my fault it happened this time. I didn't fight like I should have. After he started getting angry I stopped fighting so he wouldn't hurt me like the others did... I lost out of my own cowardice."
"I feel empty and that scares me... I can't make myself truly care. Can't find that anger that helped me in the past. I'm just numb. I heard of girls committing suicide after something like this happens and I never really understood... I get it now though."
"The worst part is feeling him again. As soon as I close my eyes I can feel his hands on me, his body on mine... It's as if he's here and I didn't actually get away."
By the time two days had past I'd exhausted my emotions and was just serenely calm. "I'd been through this before, I could handle this. Why did it need to affect me at all? I'm fine"
. . . And then a couple men asked me out on dates and my heart started going the speed of a G6 airplane.
. . . I saw my dad two days later and it took all of my self control not to go sprinting out the door and hide in my car.
And I realized that I was not fine, That I had been severely injured - on a very deep level... And I didn't have a clue as to how to fix that. I could act fine all I wanted, but I was very hurt. I am very hurt.... Ignoring that would not make it heal.
"I can feel myself falling apart, but I don't know how to catch the pieces.. I'm really scared"
"I can't do this again! I can't go through this again. I can't. My body just healed from the last guy a few moths ago. I was finally free of the memories. I was doing good! I can't... not again. I can't do this."
"I don't want to heal. Am I supposed to spend months healing again only to have another man do this to me? What's the point? What's the point to any of it?"
"I... It's my fault it happened this time. I didn't fight like I should have. After he started getting angry I stopped fighting so he wouldn't hurt me like the others did... I lost out of my own cowardice."
"I feel empty and that scares me... I can't make myself truly care. Can't find that anger that helped me in the past. I'm just numb. I heard of girls committing suicide after something like this happens and I never really understood... I get it now though."
"The worst part is feeling him again. As soon as I close my eyes I can feel his hands on me, his body on mine... It's as if he's here and I didn't actually get away."
By the time two days had past I'd exhausted my emotions and was just serenely calm. "I'd been through this before, I could handle this. Why did it need to affect me at all? I'm fine"
. . . And then a couple men asked me out on dates and my heart started going the speed of a G6 airplane.
. . . I saw my dad two days later and it took all of my self control not to go sprinting out the door and hide in my car.
And I realized that I was not fine, That I had been severely injured - on a very deep level... And I didn't have a clue as to how to fix that. I could act fine all I wanted, but I was very hurt. I am very hurt.... Ignoring that would not make it heal.
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
Memory of a wood
There once was a day - it feels like so long ago - when I rose with the sun and hiked through woods crowded with mists. I close my eyes today and I can remember it like it was yesterday...
The damp air dances at the back of my throat, the music of the wet leaves resisting the morning breeze's urgings to wake, the snap of branches overhead as the squirrels run along my path. I remember a silence that I could smell. It was everywhere and in everything... Tasting like my love's kiss. Like a time long past; telling stories of wars I have never seen and lives it has watched pass by. A silence that only an old wood can sing.
I can remember... a remnant of a memory almost forgotten. And my eyes blur with their own mists as the taste of the sea touches my lips. Will I ever be home again?
The damp air dances at the back of my throat, the music of the wet leaves resisting the morning breeze's urgings to wake, the snap of branches overhead as the squirrels run along my path. I remember a silence that I could smell. It was everywhere and in everything... Tasting like my love's kiss. Like a time long past; telling stories of wars I have never seen and lives it has watched pass by. A silence that only an old wood can sing.
I can remember... a remnant of a memory almost forgotten. And my eyes blur with their own mists as the taste of the sea touches my lips. Will I ever be home again?
Deception (Guy #3 - "J")
So... so far you have read of the only three men I had known in my life on at an intimate level. Looks a little bleak huh? Well, I thought the same thing. Until I met Robert.
He was perfect. Patient, kind, respectful. He was everything. He had the same spirit that I have and we immediately clicked. It was so easy to talk to him and he was such a good listener. It was the first time I'd ever fallen in love with anyone and he taught me that true love really could be beautiful. It was all so perfect that I almost wasn't surprised when he came to me one day and said that he wasn't sure he wanted to keep dating me - that he wasn't sure we were a good fit together. I gave him two days to think it over and then couldn't take the pain anymore and made up his mind for him. Breaking it off was probably the hardest thing I've ever done. And it is the one thing that I regret.
I spent several weeks trying to get over him and I didn't feel like I was getting anywhere. So I called up a friend from back home. He was about ten years my senior, married, with a beautiful little girl, so I knew that I had nothing to worry about. He had helped me through the passing of my grandfather and I hoped he would be able to help me through this as well.
We met at an overlook above my little home town and just talked... After a while, he offered for us to move to the back of his suburban where he laid out a sleeping bag. We'd done this many times before - it was a lot more comfortable than the seats. After he was done laying down the seats I moved back there to sit on the sleeping bag. Next thing I knew, his mouth was on mine, his hands desperately pulling at my shirt, his body pressing me into the floor.
What was happening?! NO! This is not what I wanted!! NO, NO, NO! Frantic, I pushed at him to try and get up, but I didn't have any room to either side of me to get any type of leverage. And to my horror, He was starting to undo my jean's buckle. "No!" I yelled at him and pushed at his chest. He simply snarled and claimed my mouth with his as he ripped my jeans the rest of the way off. In his anger he dug into my leg with his fingers...
Something snapped in my mind then. Suddenly I was back with my first boyfriend. Suddenly I knew that fighting would be useless - more than that, that it would just make things worse. And so I stopped fighting. I stopped trying to get away, and I started trying to make him happy. I gave him what he wanted and while he was recovering I crawled around the back of the Suburban and shakily found my discarded clothes and got them on. Then I silently got into the front seat and waited for him to get up there and drive me back to my car.
I was empty... Three men had raped me in the span of two years... Three men. That had to be some kind of record right? Did I have a "fuck me" sign on my back that I'd forgotten to take off??
I drove home, my heart as heavy as I had ever felt it...
This happened in October, 2014.
He was perfect. Patient, kind, respectful. He was everything. He had the same spirit that I have and we immediately clicked. It was so easy to talk to him and he was such a good listener. It was the first time I'd ever fallen in love with anyone and he taught me that true love really could be beautiful. It was all so perfect that I almost wasn't surprised when he came to me one day and said that he wasn't sure he wanted to keep dating me - that he wasn't sure we were a good fit together. I gave him two days to think it over and then couldn't take the pain anymore and made up his mind for him. Breaking it off was probably the hardest thing I've ever done. And it is the one thing that I regret.
I spent several weeks trying to get over him and I didn't feel like I was getting anywhere. So I called up a friend from back home. He was about ten years my senior, married, with a beautiful little girl, so I knew that I had nothing to worry about. He had helped me through the passing of my grandfather and I hoped he would be able to help me through this as well.
We met at an overlook above my little home town and just talked... After a while, he offered for us to move to the back of his suburban where he laid out a sleeping bag. We'd done this many times before - it was a lot more comfortable than the seats. After he was done laying down the seats I moved back there to sit on the sleeping bag. Next thing I knew, his mouth was on mine, his hands desperately pulling at my shirt, his body pressing me into the floor.
What was happening?! NO! This is not what I wanted!! NO, NO, NO! Frantic, I pushed at him to try and get up, but I didn't have any room to either side of me to get any type of leverage. And to my horror, He was starting to undo my jean's buckle. "No!" I yelled at him and pushed at his chest. He simply snarled and claimed my mouth with his as he ripped my jeans the rest of the way off. In his anger he dug into my leg with his fingers...
Something snapped in my mind then. Suddenly I was back with my first boyfriend. Suddenly I knew that fighting would be useless - more than that, that it would just make things worse. And so I stopped fighting. I stopped trying to get away, and I started trying to make him happy. I gave him what he wanted and while he was recovering I crawled around the back of the Suburban and shakily found my discarded clothes and got them on. Then I silently got into the front seat and waited for him to get up there and drive me back to my car.
I was empty... Three men had raped me in the span of two years... Three men. That had to be some kind of record right? Did I have a "fuck me" sign on my back that I'd forgotten to take off??
I drove home, my heart as heavy as I had ever felt it...
This happened in October, 2014.
Abuse (Guy #1 - "A")
This story will not be like the others.. Mostly because I still can't bring myself to think on the details of all that happened over those nine months of hell. But this will give you an idea:
I was seventeen years old and had my first real crush. The boy was a year older than me and absolutely gorgeous. His black hair barely brushed across his forehead, he was a soccer player, and he was a Christian. I mean, what more could a girl ask for right?
After a few short months of texting and meeting up in the lunch room we decided to date. It was exactly what I needed! A hot distraction from a terrible home situation. My father was still holding to the belief that I was dead, my mother didn't want to speak to me because I had joined a church she didn't like, and my brothers were mad at me for disrupting the peace. A distraction was perfect.
I ran away to his house quite a bit in those first several months of dating and he became my closest confidant. It was all going great. Until we had been dating for about 4 months and he started wanting to paw my chest and between my legs. He was my first real boyfriend and I didn't see anything wrong with it - it's what guys and girls do right?
Well, pawing quickly escalated. Gone were our nights talking, gone were our fun trips to the park, gone were our evenings just laying awake talking on the phone. Now every time he saw me, all he wanted was to get his hands under my clothes. But he cared for me. At least he wanted to see me, whereas my family had made it clear that they did not...
A month or so went by and it wasn't fun for me any more. Now some of the things he was doing hurt me. No longer was it pawing and kissing, now he was biting and leaving bruises on my skin. Now I was having trouble walking without a limp. Now my backpack's straps hurt as they pressed against cuts and bruises he had left the night before.
But he loved me.
Another couple months go by and it just keeps getting worse. It was a challenge to him - to see how much pain he could cause me before I couldn't take any more. A sick, twisted, challenge. And as my pain tolerance grew, his methods got more creative. It was normal for me to go home with blood running down my legs. I started wearing padding under my bras so that the blood there wouldn't seep through. Pain was my constant companion. Pain and fear.
Emotionally, I was a wreck. Physically, I was as well. But don't get me wrong. I am a fighter. At that point in my life, I had no idea how to fight, but I tried. Boy, did I try! But you know how I told you he was an athlete? My tries were futile against him, and they only served to tick him off. I learned that the harder I fought, the more pain I would go through.
It took me 9 months of dating him before I finally broke it off and fled. So easy, looking back on it. So easy to leave, and yet it had been so hard.
This happened the year of 2012
I was seventeen years old and had my first real crush. The boy was a year older than me and absolutely gorgeous. His black hair barely brushed across his forehead, he was a soccer player, and he was a Christian. I mean, what more could a girl ask for right?
After a few short months of texting and meeting up in the lunch room we decided to date. It was exactly what I needed! A hot distraction from a terrible home situation. My father was still holding to the belief that I was dead, my mother didn't want to speak to me because I had joined a church she didn't like, and my brothers were mad at me for disrupting the peace. A distraction was perfect.
I ran away to his house quite a bit in those first several months of dating and he became my closest confidant. It was all going great. Until we had been dating for about 4 months and he started wanting to paw my chest and between my legs. He was my first real boyfriend and I didn't see anything wrong with it - it's what guys and girls do right?
Well, pawing quickly escalated. Gone were our nights talking, gone were our fun trips to the park, gone were our evenings just laying awake talking on the phone. Now every time he saw me, all he wanted was to get his hands under my clothes. But he cared for me. At least he wanted to see me, whereas my family had made it clear that they did not...
A month or so went by and it wasn't fun for me any more. Now some of the things he was doing hurt me. No longer was it pawing and kissing, now he was biting and leaving bruises on my skin. Now I was having trouble walking without a limp. Now my backpack's straps hurt as they pressed against cuts and bruises he had left the night before.
But he loved me.
Another couple months go by and it just keeps getting worse. It was a challenge to him - to see how much pain he could cause me before I couldn't take any more. A sick, twisted, challenge. And as my pain tolerance grew, his methods got more creative. It was normal for me to go home with blood running down my legs. I started wearing padding under my bras so that the blood there wouldn't seep through. Pain was my constant companion. Pain and fear.
Emotionally, I was a wreck. Physically, I was as well. But don't get me wrong. I am a fighter. At that point in my life, I had no idea how to fight, but I tried. Boy, did I try! But you know how I told you he was an athlete? My tries were futile against him, and they only served to tick him off. I learned that the harder I fought, the more pain I would go through.
It took me 9 months of dating him before I finally broke it off and fled. So easy, looking back on it. So easy to leave, and yet it had been so hard.
This happened the year of 2012
Loss (Father)
As a child, I saw my parents the same way many of the children of my age did. My father was larger than life, and my mother, always the one to get me out of trouble that I had inevitably gotten myself into. When asked who my hero was, my answer was bound to include one of their names, depending on the day. But we cannot stay children forever, and that is where I start my story.
It was Sunday night, and I was anxiously awaiting my brothers’ return from a weekend at our father’s house. Looking back on it, the night was beautiful; the stars shown brighter than usual, and there was the crisp smell of spring in the air rustling the few leaves now on the trees. If one was quiet, they might hear the life of a thousand creatures just beginning to stir in the forest; the crickets trying to find mates, the squirrels hiding away for the night, the cicadas lighting up the evening with song, but I heard none of this. My mind was fully occupied by what I was about to learn. For as long as I can remember, I had been asking my father the single question that every teen of divorce asks. 7 days ago, my dad had called to inform me that he was finally ready to tell me why he had left my family six years earlier. I was understandably nervous as to what he would tell me. I had many theories, most of which I hoped would be false, but I could not help but wonder if he would say it was because of me. Any child of a divorce has asked themselves the same question, whether they try to ignore the possibility or dwell on it depends on the person, on that night however, my fear of the answer was all encompassing.
Dad had said that he would be there to pick me up at 8:00 that night, so I was planning on leaving at 9:00 PM, for he was always about an hour late. When 9:45 PM hit, I was a nervous wreck. A minute was never longer than on that night as the hand ticked from 10:00 to 11:00 to 11:30 and finally he pulled into the driveway at fifteen till 12:00 AM. To this day I will not know if he was hoping I would be sound asleep and he wouldn’t have to talk to me, or if it was completely circumstantial. At this point, it does not matter to me.
I do not remember what was said as I got into the car that night. I was so focused on what I would soon be told, my mind refused to allow the minute details of those moments to enter into memory. As we drove, we made small talk, speaking on unimportant matters like school, and the boy I was dating. Neither of us wanted to think about the question; and more importantly, its answer, at least not until we knew that there would be no interruption. So we spoke on small matters until we pulled into McDonalds. We walked in and there was a single customer there, his laptop on the table closest to the door. Neither dad nor I wanted any food, so we went straight to a table in the back corner. As I sat down, I remember feeling the salt on the table under my hands in sharp contrast to the smooth tabletop, adding to my nerves that were already zinging through my body faster than I had previously thought possible. It was just dad and I, no more excuses left to keep us from the conversation that the whole night was about.
I would like to say that what he told me reassured me, lifted me up, showed me that life did have reason and purpose to it; and that my life was a part of his. However, events like that rarely work out so picturesque and that Sunday night was no exception. He was very organized; he had a lot of papers piled in between several pages of what looked to be a diary. Why he would have a diary with antique flower patterns on it, I did not think to ask. He started out by confirming many suppositions I had had. His unhappiness in his and mom’s marriage was a common theme amongst it all, but nothing that would sanctify a divorce. Turns out he was just preparing me for an ugly face of the matter that had, supposedly, been previously covered by a mask. That was when I found out why he had an antique diary. The book was not written with his thoughts and pains, but with my mother’s. He tried to convince me that my mother was a lesbian, that that is why he had left her and us. Tried to tell me that she was still in love with her old college roommate. . . I was sickened. No wonder my brothers had stopped listening to mom. No wonder they were being so disrespectful. No wonder... It was my father's lies.
That was the night that changed my life, not because of what my father told me, but because of what he didn’t. My father dropped me off in the dead of night back at my mother’s house. He told me that I was a fool not to listen to what he had said, but then drove away, his silver Audi slowly being swallowed by the night’s blessed darkness, taking my innocent faith with him. That night he told me that his daughter was dead. From then on, he only had two sons. It was a few months before I was to turn 16 years old... My father did not speak to me again until I was almost 20 years old and has never once apologized for his actions. On the contrary, he is still waiting for my apology.
Betrayal (Guy #2 - "S")
A memory..
The cool ice from the windowpane cuts into my cheek, numbing my jaw, freezing the tears running down the side of my face. In an attempt to freeze the pain in my heart, I lean against the glass and close my eyes on the world, allowing the pain to grow inside of me. To the black backdrop of my eyelids a play begins to unfold. Two lovers meet. Their sweet days in the sun and the secrets shared were all there. Winter hits and they spend long nights in each other’s arms watching the world morph into something new. So innocent was their love that all of nature seemed to want to protect it.
Tears spill from my eyes as the scene change takes place. The moon looks down and can do nothing as the boy watches the woman he loves sleep. The curves of her body are home to him; and watching her at peace, something inside of him changes. An animal kept hidden for too long emerges. The stars hide their faces as the boy slowly climbs on top of the sleeping girl and begins to take what wasn't his. In desperation the wind slams into the house, shaking the window panes and doors – waking the girl with a start. In confusion she tries to get away, but he refuses to allow her to get up. “I’m taking advantage of this opportunity while I have it” he snarls as he slams the girl back into the couch. In panic she flails at him until he gets tired of fighting and gets up. As he leaves, the girl pulls her knees to her chest and watches her love walk away, and as his steps become silent so does her heart. Where their love had once filled her, there was an emptiness she recognized all too well. Not able to take the play any longer I snap my eyes open and stare blankly out of the frosted window.
Without my knowledge the moon relinquishes the sky to the sun and warmth reaches out to touch my tired eyes. And with the sun’s touch I feel a hand on my arm. I turn my face from the window and in horror see the boy from the play not two feet from me. Frantically I scramble away, backing myself into the protective arms of the couch – which had been a prop in the play I’d watched with closed eyes. Tears stream down my face as I stare back at him defiantly. Fear I had, but anger I had as well; anger at the emptiness, anger at the one who had given it to me. I did not move as he spoke of my strange behavior to his mother, as he brushed it off as nothing important; but in my heart the emptiness began to burn.
For as I left my mind and returned to the world before me I could feel the damage done to my body by a man I had loved. I could feel the blood between my legs and the bruises on my arms and back, and I was mad. Determining the source of my anger would be like finding the ocean’s starting point so deep was my wrath. But the anger lasted only long enough for me to get to my car. Once safe I locked the doors, rested my hands on the steering wheel, and cried. Not because of pain or fear, but for what I had lost. For those moments of bliss when he woke me with a kiss. For the crazy intimacy we had shared so often. And I vowed to myself that I would never again get close enough to a man that if things ended I wouldn't be able to go on with my life. Alone and strong I swore to be. And during the day I was. But under the watchful eyes of the moon I cried myself to sleep each night and woke in terror.
This took place January 1st, 2013. Almost a year and a half ago...
Starting Out
Hey :)
This has been on my mind quite a bit, and I can't help but think that maybe I could make a difference... Maybe something I write will resonate with someone going through the same things I am, and maybe - just maybe - it will give them the strength to push through.
I am not a writer. Or a psychiatrist. Or a therapist... But I have been there. And I have lived through it. And I am stronger today than I was yesterday. And that means there is hope.
I'll post my stories here in just a second so that you'll know where I am coming from, but let me just say in short that this is a blog of hope. And of love. And of trust. And of courage. Mostly, it's a blog of courage. It's funny, how mundane things that were once second nature become a chore. How simple things like getting up in the morning you suddenly find yourself questioning.
You feel as if the trail you were on which once was sunny and bright is now covered in fog and you don't know where your next foot will land. Or, at least, that is how it feels for me.
Well, I'm here to tell you that I'm still walking. I'm still traveling the trail, even if I can't see where it leads... And I am doing my best to become stronger along the way. I will not let this world win. I will not succumb to the terrors before me or behind me. I will not give this world the pleasure of claiming me as a victim. I simply won't. It's not in me to quit. I tried. I really did... But I can't. I won't live in fear.
This is a record of my journey to find light in the darkness. Hope in a world full of pain. Purpose in a life without one. I suppose we're all on a similar journey.
This has been on my mind quite a bit, and I can't help but think that maybe I could make a difference... Maybe something I write will resonate with someone going through the same things I am, and maybe - just maybe - it will give them the strength to push through.
I am not a writer. Or a psychiatrist. Or a therapist... But I have been there. And I have lived through it. And I am stronger today than I was yesterday. And that means there is hope.
I'll post my stories here in just a second so that you'll know where I am coming from, but let me just say in short that this is a blog of hope. And of love. And of trust. And of courage. Mostly, it's a blog of courage. It's funny, how mundane things that were once second nature become a chore. How simple things like getting up in the morning you suddenly find yourself questioning.
You feel as if the trail you were on which once was sunny and bright is now covered in fog and you don't know where your next foot will land. Or, at least, that is how it feels for me.
Well, I'm here to tell you that I'm still walking. I'm still traveling the trail, even if I can't see where it leads... And I am doing my best to become stronger along the way. I will not let this world win. I will not succumb to the terrors before me or behind me. I will not give this world the pleasure of claiming me as a victim. I simply won't. It's not in me to quit. I tried. I really did... But I can't. I won't live in fear.
This is a record of my journey to find light in the darkness. Hope in a world full of pain. Purpose in a life without one. I suppose we're all on a similar journey.
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