Sometimes…

Sometimes anxiety and depression are strange bedfellows and made worse when C-PTSD come into play. Sometimes when I’m in that hole, telling me solutions will help pull me out. But sometimes…

Sometimes it digs me deeper. Sometimes it makes me think that those options would work for a regular person, but not me. Sometimes I feel isolated by your suggestions and wish you would just crawl down here and hold me while I feel like shit.

Sometimes that makes you feel like shit, like I don’t listen to you. Sometimes it makes you think I’m all about the negative and all my work has reverted. That I’m 2017 Me again…. and sometimes I think you are right.

Sometimes that makes the ditch swallow me whole. That I have fallen so far, that I am so unworthy that the work I did wasn’t enough. Sometimes I think it never will be. That I will never get better no matter how hard I work….

Sometimes it makes me angry. Makes me feel like all you want to do is fix me, and make me positive 100% of the time. Sometimes it makes me feel like you don’t love the broken dirty parts of me, but only love me when I’m the happier me.

Sometimes you love me, and sometimes you don’t. Sometimes you help me, sometimes I wish you wouldn’t. Sometimes I wish you would just love me bad and broken. Sometimes I feel like you never could. Sometimes I think I deserve someone who would, and sometimes I believe that only death will.

A is for…

Asshole? You fucking Cunt! Not to sully the good name of Cunt, but oh boy is A for you and is A for absolutely-synonymous with worthless excuse for a woman. And yes I know that you’re not the only one, do you? I know he wasn’t the only one for you.

You think you guys are meant to be? Well, get ready for the truth: You’re not. Plain and simple. Not in ‘97, not in 2007, not in 2017, and certainly not in 2027. However, I must admit you apathetic assholes deserve each other! You’re adulterers and liars who have such little respect for the sanctity of marriage. Neither of you understand the gravity of your actions, but trust me soon enough you will.

Yes, I am mad at him, and yes I am going to deal with him directly because he chose to do what he did. But I’m going to address you here. You didn’t give me the decency of an apology so you don’t get the decency of my private correspondence. You get put on blast here. So as your love says “put it in your blog”… here it is.

How fucking dare you? How little self respect does one need to have to put their own marriage and the lives of their three boys in trouble? For what? Tell me for what? I gave him the freedom to run to you. Why is he still here with me? What did you tell him? Why did you deny him? Did you finally see that he wasn’t the right one? Or that your stability was in danger? Did you finally realize that the universe would not send another woman’s husband to save you? Or did you just do this for sport?

I was giving everything to my marriage, to save what I love, what I worked so hard for. Did you think I deserved what I got for failing to pay attention? Well tell me cuntface, what do you deserve then? What is the appropriate karma for trying to steal another woman’s husband? Should I send all the receipts to your husband and let him figure out what your karma should be? Or should I just wait for the sins of the mother to fall on the son?

You’re a grimey, entitled, scared girl who needs to either talk to her husband about how shitty he is, or leave before starting something with someone else. You will never receive the love you are looking for, or that you say you need, bleeding all over others. Ruining their families and pretending it’s fate while all along you never intended to backup all that talk.

Part of me would like to print the whole list of emails, the pictures, the poems, the love notes, the whole fucking shebang baby! Bring it for a trip up to Jersey. Drop them in your hubby’s car or place of work. Or would you prefer I put them in your neighbors mailboxes? Can you tell me how many of these pics you sent him too? Or the other man… um men?

I could make a play for your man… See if I can’t get him to do something even more heinous. How about me having that little girl you always wanted with your husband? Sounds like fun right? I think so… How about your littlest boy calling me Mommy one day?

Or I could get my crazy on, I mean the old school Lizzie-crazy. I haven’t had a good fight in a long time, you wanna square up? We can settle this like men would, and TRUST me I am more man than you ever will be. And I take that as a compliment. No weapons needed, I will choke the life out of you with your own gigantic stripper titties. Or, how would you like it if I pinch that massive nose of yours and suffocate you by making you suck my cock till you puke and make you swallow that?

Kind of wish I was still that person, but I’m not. I know the universe will take care of you and this mess. Both he and you are going to realize the full horror and pain your actions have caused. I know this to be true, even if I never see it. Although if there is any magic left in this body I will get front row seat to the carnage. Will you be woman enough to see it when it comes for you? Will you ever grow up enough to even say you’re sorry?

Here is the thing… I forgive you for it, I do. It’s something I always saw in the distance and finally just stopped keeping from happening. I’m glad it was as good for you as it was for him. I hope you learned something, and I hope you understand that it is out of the goodness of my heart that I don’t destroy everything you hold dear. DO NOT mistake that kindness for weakness again.

I do not wish this pain on even you, my most mortal enemy. However, I do wish you healing. Why you ask? Because there has to be something really broken, still, in you to do this to someone. Especially when you know in great detail what it felt like to be on both sides of the coin. Until you respect other women, you will never respect yourself. I wish you good luck in that journey.

Sincerely,

The “Bigger” Woman

P.s. I know this is childish, but just a word of warning. He’s told people about what happened, I’ve told people, and now this? It’s only a matter of time before it becomes community knowledge. We run in some of the same crowds. I suggest you come clean before you’re forced to deny and lie. Always: The truth eventually comes out. SWAK

 

Editor’s note: Wow. That’s some powerful stuff. Well-said, my Love.

 

Brunch

He climbs into her car and inhales her sweet body splash. The adrenaline rush from sneaking around makes them both shake as they embrace.

“We have to leave, we can’t stay here she’s shopping nearby. Let’s go.”

The driver takes off to the motel as he pulls together the cash he carefully squirreled away without his wife’s notice. They only have a few hours together and can’t waste a second, so the typical area traffic makes them both even edgier.

“Two hours please” she says as they grab the room key. The place is what you expect, a shitty roadside motel. The kind of place built for affairs and day hookers.

The room itself is gross but they don’t care. They have been talking, dreaming, writing about this moment for over a year and won’t let anything ruin it. It’s not about the room, their spouses, or anything else other than their own passion and desire.

The hours fly by as they entwine themselves with reckless abandon. Not a care in the world as they shower off the stench of their betrayal. He texts his wife as they leave and head to the diner for their cover story.

They cuddle up in a booth, play footsie, kiss, and chat. Relive the memory of their deepest darkest secret, the one they will take to the grave. He knows her husband won’t stand for this, even if caught he’ll deny this ever happened. He must protect her and this at all costs, even if it means he loses his wife, he cares not.

No one will ever know the details, even they will have different versions of the same stolen moments. However I like to think that the reality of the story, is far more scandalous than I could ever dream up.

The Wound

First time I anticipated the cut and saw the steel of the blade before it ever pierced the skin

The second time I was not so lucky,  it entered next to the first while that one was still barely stitched together

One puncture was now two gaping holes, and neither one given any time to heal like it needed

I was undeserving of medical care and left alone to lick my gashes, given salt from time to time to remind me

Years passed in the same cycle: pick till it bleeds, rub, pain, remember your mistake, punish yourself

Over and over again until the scar still shows the thick keloiding that comes with a repeated assault

A reminder so large now that there is no way to ignore it and no way to pretend you don’t know what caused it

The size and shape make it clear to all those who glimpse it what came before, and how I healed it

The horrors that brought that reminder, the actions of mine that brought on the attack and how I felt I deserved it

I remember every moment in exquisite agony every time I pick at it, I punish myself by making it bigger, adding to the layers of scar tissue

But no more, today I have finally been given the tool needed to lop off the entire scar

It will cut deep into my skin and free me from the prison of my own obsessive need to relive the trauma

This is the chance to finally let go of the raised ugly scar and behaviour that imprisons me

It will be a painful complicated surgery without anesthesia, going possibly down to the bone

Every possible bit of scar tissue will be removed, no chance taken this time with the proper doctor in tow

Surgery will leave a permanent mark but this scar will be different, stitched together with precision and given the proper aftercare

Allowed to heal the right way, in a calm relaxing environment and with an attentive nurse to watch over my progress

I’ll trade the old complicated oozing scar that plagued me, for a deep red line across my heart

You’ll still be able to see the scar, but now you’ll see the aftercare and love that proper healing brings to a wound of this nature

I’ll be able to display this badge of courage as a reminder of the unconditional love that fixed it, rather than the evil that caused it so long ago

Daddy Dearest

To my Dearest Father,

Where were you? I needed you.

Your absence in my life has caused me more paid than I can even begin to explain. I  know I have said over and over again I didn’t need you, but that was never true. I was trained from birth to be strong, to be independent, to not show weakness. I had to create a brick wall around myself and my feelings. I became so strong I was made of stone. No one came in, nothing mattered. I could cut anyone out at any time and never let anyone know I needed them. Why? Because I don’t know how to need someone, I don’t know how to trust. I needed my father to show me what love from a man looked like, and without that I became hollow inside.

I was abused by my uncle for as long as I can recall. I developed an eating disorder at 9, and lied my way through middle school. I allowed a boyfriend to beat me. I allowed myself to be assaulted by an older male boss in high school. I was groomed by a much older man from when I was 15. I was drugged in college and almost assaulted. I have abused others because I thought that was “love”, and let loved ones abuse me thinking I deserved it. I am broken from what happened to me and having no one to talk to. I never had a male figure in my life I could trust and so I never learned that men were trustworthy. I self sabotaged my marriage and every relationship I had because “all men will leave you in the end”.

I became very good at wearing a mask of independence and strength. I had to learn to turn off my emotions, otherwise I would have crumbled. I had very strong female role models, but none to show me what love and trust really look like. I missed the bond that every girl craves, and by the time a semi-solid male figure showed up I was already well trained to not NEED a man… so I didn’t let him in either. I don’t blame you for what happened to me, nor do I blame my family. It’s MY story, it’s part of who I am… but it’s not who I am anymore. I have been working really hard in the last two years since taking over my Grandmother’s care and I want you to know.

I want you to know that it did hurt me to not have you. It hurt every time I thought you would show up, and didn’t. It hurt me to watch you blame my mom, my aunts, and everyone else but yourself that we didn’t have a relationship. You need to know at the end of the day, that was on you. You could have made it happen, you were my father. You knew where I lived, you knew my grandmother loved you, and you knew my mom worked. You could have come come for me… I wish you did. I wish you were at my wedding, I wish I could have have that moment. I didn’t need you to give me away, but I needed to know a father’s love before entering into a lifelong commitment. It hurt my heart that you didn’t even send a card or a note. You didn’t even acknowledge the biggest moment in my life. I didn’t need you there, but I wanted you there. I never said that to anyone because I thought it would make me look weak, and I was never that on the outside.

But I am on the inside, I’m still that little girl who didn’t get to have her daddy in her life. Father daughter dances make me crumble. I cry and I can’t stop it. Every wedding I go to reminds me that I’m still without that love. I hate that this makes me look weak, and I don’t want people to know but I have to get it out or I won’t heal… and that’s what I’m trying to do. I’m growing now. Now that I am free from the chains that tie me to my abuse and my abusive thoughts I am becoming a woman… and I forgive myself and I forgive you. I know you did the best you could with what you had. That you were broken too and just child yourself then. I understand why, and while I wish it wasn’t true, it is.

I never showed you how grateful I was for the times you were there. For the car, for inviting me into your home, and giving me another extended family. I didn’t know how to react to it then, but I am thankful for it now. While neither of us can go back and fix the past, I need you to know that it hurt me. I need you to know what it did to me, and that I’m sorry I hurt you, and that I hope all can be forgiven, even if it will never be forgotten or fixed. I need to me able to move on with my life and I can’t without getting it out.

I don’t know if we’ll ever be close, I don’t know if my sisters will ever be friends of mine. It’s the situation and decisions you made in the beginning, but we both made in the end that brought us here. I hope you can take responsibility for your decisions, as I have for mine. I hope that knowing that frees you a little bit too. I love you dad, even if I’ll never really be able to show you the way you want to see it. And now I know you love me, even though you may never show me the way I want you to. You hurt me, but I can now see beauty in the darkness and pain. It made me who I am today, and while I’m still a work in progress I am proud of what I’ve done so far.

Love,

The Daughter (you left behind)

 

 

The late night call

He gets a text and says, I’ll be back in a bit, I have to make a call. Probably be back in about an hour…

Fine right? Nothing weird here… except Anxiety!

He’s down there talking to someone he doesn’t want me to know about, why can’t he tell me who it is? Why don’t you just ask? Because if he wanted me to know he would have told me who it was. Why doesn’t he want to tell me? Is it because it’s her? Because I’m fine with that, he knows that then why not tell me? Why go down stairs?

DAMN IT! I lose and while I am going to tough it out, and get through it my anxiety has written a beautiful short story about it.

It’s her, you’re telling her that you have to stop talking like this. Sneaking around is no good for either of you. That you guys are both married, and that you should love the one you’re with if you can’t be with the one you love. You talk of how it could be, how you guys love each other, and long for a different world. You talk dirty to each other and exchange pictures before clearing your histories and hopping into bed with your spouses.

The Anxiety Gremlin

All day pacing the halls of records, touching each instance of good with her uncertainty

Which memory shall I ruin today, she bellows down the caverns of my mind

Running her long razorlike nails against the title on each cover she stops for a moment

“Do I dare?” She questions under her breath as she pulls out the album out

No dust here, I come often to look at this but typically its in bad times

I draw on my experiences this day as they are true to my heart

They ground me, keep me sane

“Please don’t” the wind whispers and she opens the page…

 

#MeToo

It’s dark, it smells like weed, and I don’t want to be there.

I’m in the basement with not just your door locked, but also the door to your bedroom

You’re watching what I think are cartoons and tell me to pay attention

I look back and your hand is in your pants and you’re mad

“Turn around!”

I turn around and don’t remember anything else.

***

It’s too hot to sleep up stairs in the bedrooms, only grandma has AC in her room

We sleep in the dining room on the floor, there is an AC there too

I recall the smell and taste of your cigarette stained tongue in my mouth

I dry heave, and then vomit

You tell your mom that I’m sick

I wake up on the floor in grandma’s room

I don’t recall how I got there

***

You lay your full grown up body on top on me and kiss me

I cry to be let go, I scream, I’m crushed and clawing to be free

I yell that your breath stinks, you blow in my face and lick me

I’m told “that’s family you have to be nice to family”

I lay there and take it… this happens weekly

***

I overhear a doctor tell my mom I need another urine specimen

I should not have results like this one, that would have to be in pain

They ask if I’m sexually active, I’m 8, I’m not

Jokes on them, I’d been complaining of pain and they have been ignoring it

I get an antibiotic, a lesson wiping correctly, making sure I wash my hands before and after the bathroom

I have my first UTI, I get them a lot until I get my first period

I don’t get my next one until I do become sexually active

***

Mood swings, suicide, eating disorders, drug use, anti-social behavior, self harm

Teenagers can be unpredictable, but I am violent and angry

Doctors say there must be some trauma, parents say no

They tell them I’m “just dramatic” and looking for attention

I’m told I have an overactive imagination, and I’m reminded that I’m lucky

***

 

Sex is complicated, fun, and guilt ridden

Emotional consistency is shit

I rock and sway, I sometimes recall terrible feelings with smells

… but no visual

I avoid my family as much as I can, but say “I’m all about my family”

I am a walking contradiction

The part of me that is strong and moved on

and the part of me that is still hiding in the shadows

I will never stop trying to remember all that happened to me

But I am okay knowing just this:

Whatever happened, it wasn’t right, I didn’t deserve it, and it wasn’t my fault.

Phases of Becoming

So I recently read a little something out there that spoke to me, and I needed to share it with the world. It’s been the framework with which I am measuring my personal growth. It’s been accurate to a T as to what I’ve felt and how I’ve been moving through the phases. As I write this now I am in Phase 4: Lilith, and am anticipating a grand move to Phase 5: Witch. Since I’m writing a few things that reference this, I figured why not link to the original here and explain a little below?

Stage One: The beginning

Phase One: She

When you do what you’ve always done because you never bothered to question why. You live in your self created prison until you realise that you don’t have to. This is the moment you know that there is only before this moment and after this moment.

Phase Two: Becoming

Chrysalis… Simply me right now… stuck in the middle.

Stage Two: The burn down

Phase Three: Eve

Surrender to the process and the “fact finding” phase. I love research and I’m hungry for all the knowledge I can find.

Phase Four: Lilith

Dancing in the fire, yup… dancing around in the turmoil now. I still don’t KNOW things… but I am getting there. Discovery has been a “trial by fire” time and I embrace it fully.

Phase Five: Witch

There is a KNOWing that comes with this stage, and acting on that knowledge that I just can’t muster the strength for yet. But soon…

Stage Three: The birth

When you emerge with your knowledge as your true self.

Phase Six: Goddess

Time to show the world who you have become.

Phase Seven: Me

Enjoying your true self and teaching others.

As I begin my new set of positive affirmations, I hope to push what I have learned so far into forms of knowing. Being able to believe and know in my heart what I have found is true, and then being able to use that knowledge to affect the world around me is huge. I have never had control of my own life before, it has always been varying degrees of beholdenness to the ideas others pressed upon me… I can’t wait to be not just free but confident as well.

To me! Eventually…

Missing you…

One of the terrible things that happens when you start to shed layer upon layer of a person you don’t want to be, for the person you truly are underneath, is you lose people. I have lost a very best friend, a mother, a sister, a step-father, and countless acquaintances… all after the loss of my grandmother to her passing.

So when you find yourself alone, and in flux, with little to hold onto and few to reach out to, you look with in for the first time. You search your soul for the missing answers, you find your own unadulterated opinions. You find out your true feelings without the input of others and their expectations.

Now that would be great if we were solitary creatures, but we are not. We are pack animals, we crave connection and many of mine are now gone. I come to this point and realize that I miss these people. I miss having them in my sphere to talk to, to bounce ideas off… but more and more I realize I don’t miss them specifically, I miss the connections.

Mostly… there is one person whom I do miss with all my heart. However, I cannot even begin to mend that relationship right now. She is so far gone down a path I cannot follow her on any more. She is someone I don’t know now, and I am as well. I hope she will one day see that I just wanted the best for her, and that I was too hurt by it all to go on with her.

It’s terrible to say I don’t miss my family at all… I hesitate to even write that but it’s true. I’ve been more like their parent than a member of the family so at this point it’s like a vacation for me… which I imagine is an even worse sentiment. However, I have made it a point to be transparent here, warts and all so there it is.

I keep my eyes peeled for like minded souls, I keep those that are still involved close to to my heart, and I keep an open mind at all times. People, like circumstances, are ever evolving. Change is constant, and one day these people might start down the path that leads to you, and you want to be there to light the way.

I miss you, I see you, and I’ll keep the lights on.