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Choosing me instead of you

July 11th, 2010

I tried hard to fix what was broken, I did.  I looked for clues, I did my work, I talked, I wrote, I cried.

My heart broke when the truth revealed itself to me.  I tried to hide from it, bury it deeply inside of my body, I didn’t want anyone to see it.

That was successful for a long time.  I tried to blame you, the reasons were all turned around and put back into my court and I couldn’t deny this was a truth I could not hide.

Looking for things that were wrong for so long until I found them, then I looked for ways to put them up high so no one could find them.

We’re in too deep, it has to remain as it is until one of us dies.  It will hurt too much, I can’t take much more hurt.  It will bury me eight feet under next to my Dad.  What have I done wrong?

I dotted my i’s and crossed my t’s, I checked and rechecked, went to the Doctor and went to God.

To stay in the condition would mean choosing you instead of me.  I thought that choice was the answer for me and I forgot who I was, what strengths I had, the hurdles I’d climbed before, and that I can overcome adversity no matter what’s on the table.

I sat, I cried, I wrote, I lied to myself.

I thought of him and how he did the same, exchanging his life for another.  It made him happy to do so, or it was what he wanted us all to believe.

A message from somewhere deep, rose up to greet, whispering in my ear, “don’t do that”.  “Right or wrong, it’s been so long, don’t walk the same road you saw me on”.

I love you, my heart would burst to prove to you if it could.  It’s time for me to sever that tie and find myself and I don’t even know why.

The beyond this will be beautiful, the beyond will be better than any of us could have hoped for.  I hate to be the one to change the tracks, it was the last choice, and when everything turned to black, I knew then it was only choice to bring my life back.

Not really broken

July 7th, 2010

When I first realized that I needed change my course I was afraid.  My mind asked if I was doing what I’ve always done, escaping my perceived strangle-hold.  I’ve never flourished or thrived when partnered.

Does this mean I’m eternally broken?

Aren’t humans supposed to couple up and live happily ever after?  If I listen to the inner voice that lives inside of my mind and body, it tells me that this may be true for others but it’s not true for me.

After years of investigating, getting my heart broken, and breaking others’ hearts I’ve learned a lot.  I’ve learned that when I am unattached, I can move mountains.  I can build bridges and soar through the sky.

I miss that part of myself that is capable of great things.  I miss the loneliness that feeds my creativity and moves me to the next level.

I don’t need you, or anyone else to complete me.  I can complete myself far better than anyone else.

I know as I type that the panic of not having a special someone by my side is going to be excruciatingly painful for me.  I’ve been here before, it’s horrible and ugly and I’ll hate myself for not being a better person.  It will not be pretty.

When we love, there is no escaping the inevitable pain that accompanies it.  It’s a part of the package, the sacrifice you make to let your heart soar.

I’m afraid, I don’t know what to do next, and I don’t like not having a direction.  I question my sanity, why on earth would I choose to leave the safety of my life at this point?

It would be selfish of me to continue, knowing I’m not as fulfilled as I should be, you deserve better.  It would be selfish of me to keep you here.

I’m sorry for the upset and chaos that this will bring into our lives, we’ve certainly seen too much of that over the years.

Looking back, I once thought it would make us stronger.  What I realized was that it broke us in ways that cannot be repaired.  I’ve been grieving much longer than you, as I’d hoped it was something I could find a solution to.

If I could block it out, and change how I am, I would.  I’ve tried medications, therapy and behavior modification just to make it all fit.

It’s not something that can be repaired because it’s not really broken.

There is sex after sexual abuse

June 3rd, 2010

As a survivor of sexual abuse, I wasn’t sure that I would ever be able to fully enjoy a sexual experience as an adult.  For a long time, I didn’t know what to enjoy it even meant.  The side effects were shame, guilt, panic, and suicidal thoughts.

The first time I had sex, I was drunk.  That set the theme for me from that point on, I couldn’t participate in any type of sexual activity unless I was drunk or on some type of mind altering drug.  Even then, the “ick” came through at the end of the experience and sometimes lasted for days.

Then, I got sober and EVERYTHING became harder to carry out.  I was used to functioning high during the day and drunk at night.  I was in a relationship at the beginning of my sobriety and it wasn’t going so well at the time.  Within the year, we would have broken up for the last time after many attempts over a five year period.

Between that time and me being five or six years sober, sex usually meant I would have some type of panic attack.  Before, after, during.  A lot of times during and I would cry.  I tried to warn my partners that sometimes I get a little weird and cry.  Most of them seemed to understand and were compassionate.  (I now know that this is a common experience for most women and even some men.)

Around three years sober, I found myself wanting to die more than I wanted to live and I went to get some help.  For the next three years, I saw this therapist and she guided me through the Courage to Heal Workbook.  I hated almost every hour of it, and would frequently cancel appointments with her.  We did some major work in that whole area and I thought it was going to kill me.

In one of the early sessions I asked her if she thought I would ever be able to move beyond the problem, she told me I would if I did the work.

I believed her.

She said it would always be a part of me, but if I did the work I could rearrange the reactions and find coping skills for the parts it left behind.

No one had ever said that to me before.

During that three year period with her, I was single and celibate.  It didn’t help that I gained a bunch of weight and basically didn’t care much for my outside appearance.  This is a typical side effect when you are working through major stuff like that.  It won’t last forever.

It was a really, really fucked up time for me and I knew I was transforming myself for the good, but afraid of what I would end up with.  It would prove to be one of the most important things I could’ve ever done for myself, and beyond my wildest dreams.

I would’ve liked to just fast forwarded to the good part (being able to enjoy sexual relations) but there wouldn’t have been a good part if I hadn’t trudged through the bad part.

Oddly enough as I got better towards the end of the three year work, I started losing weight without even trying.  I started cleaning my apartment, getting rid of things I didn’t need and my life seemed to almost get itself in order.

This would prove to be a benefit for doing the actual work in therapy, one I hadn’t anticipated.

As for my sexual situation, that got better too.  MUCH BETTER.  I tried things I’d never tried, I was fully present, and I finally got what people were talking about, and I wanted to make up for lost time.

I’ve wanted to write something like this for a long time, I want people to know that we can recover in a way that allows us to enjoy certain aspects of life.  By no means am I “cured” and I’ve had flashbacks here and there (depending on what is going on in my life at the time) but it doesn’t paralyze me anymore and I can talk myself through most situations.

It does not paralyze me any more.

We all deserve a healthy sex life, and I’m certain that all of us on some level, whether you were abused or not have struggled with sexual issues.  I blame religion for a lot of it.

It’s a taboo subject (much like mental illness), and the only way I have found to heal is by discussing it with a trusted source that helped me to find my way back to the present in order to enjoy so many things we never dreamed of actually enjoying.

Sex is CAN be good and it CAN be your friend.

I really have come too far

May 26th, 2010

One day I hope to have all the hurt out of my body.  I don’t rest well in my skin when I know I have hurt stuck in there.  I get illnesses and depression.  I know that some hurt has to stay where it is until it’s ready to come out.

This hurt, this particular hurt controls me.  Maybe I let it control me.  I expected you to protect me, to protect her, protect the ones you love.  My expectations getting in my way again, causing me to have resentment.

People cannot give what they do not have.

I thought by taking care of you that it would take care of the all of us, maybe I’d even learn to let you take care of me.  I know I’m not perfect, I have my own issues.  This really is my issue, because I am no longer able to deal with it.

I thought you were ready to do that work too.  It’s ok that you aren’t, I understand that knocking down walls isn’t for most people.  I also realize that I’m probably not meant for a long term commitment.  Not because I can’t commit, I’ve certainly proved that to myself once and for all.  Maybe I expect too much from my partners.

A Doctor recently told me after hearing my story, “You’ve come too far to settle”.  I nodded my head and agreed with her.  Not in some “superior” way, in a way for my own journey.  I HAVE come a long way from my humble beginnings, and my fucked up scars.

My heart aches for the loss we’ve suffered, and I’m not sure that it’ll ever stop aching, it goes really really deep.  It’s attached to some major core stuff for me and I’m powerless over it.  I’ve tried to make it something other than what it was.  Truth seeker that I am, I wasn’t successful.

Just a simple call or text can send me spiraling out into crazy land.  I love her, I love her so deeply it’s alarming even to me.

I can honestly say that I tried every avenue possible.  This isn’t me running away like it used to be.  I dug in my heels and willed it to get better, then I sought outside help.  I can comfortably say that I did the very best I could, tried everything I could, experienced heart wrenching pain for the both of us but to no avail.  A partnership only works if both are willing to work at it.

There are two sides to you, and 99% of people only see the one side.  I’ll be the “bad guy”, I know that’s important to you.  I’ve carried that title for many years now, and was blamed for things that I had no involvement in.  I let it be like that because I didn’t know another way and I thought it was the solution.

I’m not a bad guy, I’m just a regular person trying to survive just like everyone else.  And I can only take so much medication before I become a zombie.

I’m worth more than that and I’m grateful that I finally saw the truth, before I lost myself forever.

I love you.

Woman overboard

May 18th, 2010

Sharp and invasive pain, not seen with the naked eye.

The wounds created long ago, continue to re-open and re-play themselves as a form of private torture.  “It’s not fair”, I scream quietly to myself, calling out to the universe, begging for it to all stop.

Looking for the escape hatch, the trap door, that pathway through the ceiling.  My knees have scratches and are bleeding, visual proof of my endless attempts to find the way out.

It wasn’t always like this, I remember good things, events, feelings.

Perhaps a spell cast upon me by an evil witch, unknown to me, unable to break it’s binding upon my soul until the Dark Horse arrives to rescue me knowing that I am the Dark Horse, not something outside of me.

The searing sadness, each time I think about the task before me wondering if I have another fight in me.

There really is no permanent happily ever after.  I often think someone should have to take accountability for that. I want my money back you lying motherfuckers, I’m not buying it anymore.

Spiraling, so tired, unsure of what my next action should be, I pray silently, with desperation for this to run it’s course so that I can move beyond it.

I know it’s there, I know I’ll find it, I know I can float.

Do you know me?

April 19th, 2010

I belong to everyone, yet to no one.

You want my time, they want my time, I love you.

All of you.

Sometimes I want to be left alone, maybe for an hour, a day, a week or a month.

I’ll come back to you, I always do.

I just need time to collect myself, my thoughts, my emotions.

To shake them off, disperse the intensity, to just be me.

There’s a lot that I share freely, and then there’s a lot that I do not share freely.

You think you know me, and you do.

But not all of me.

I always keep some for myself.  I have to, or I’ll fall down

in a heap of empty and nothing.

And you won’t have anything to greet you when you are invited back.

Never forget that I love you, and I love them,

but sometimes I need





It’s time to go

April 9th, 2010

The thought comes, then the pit of the stomach feeling as if I’ve lost the biggest prize at the fair.  I’m the girl that doesn’t win, the one that doesn’t get the guy, the one that lets you treat me like shit and pretend that I just need to adjust my thinking.

Pretending time is over, I’ve seen the truth and once that bitch comes out she doesn’t leave.

Truth has saved my life many times.

Always painful, always harrowing, always sad.  It’s the other side that I aim for, getting to the other side of IT.  It’s like finding that doll house you always wanted under the Christmas tree on Christmas morning.

This time, I’m not blaming myself for taking so fucking long to finally SEE IT.  This time, I’m not doing that.  I am one hundred percent positive that it took every fucking thing it took to bring me here.

Many years were involved.  Many bad things, many hard things, and a whole lot of me trying to figure out what the motherfucking hell I was doing wrong and trying to correct it.

I can honestly say that I’ve done everything I can think of to resolve, to see it differently.  I’ve looked at it from your point of view, from her point of view, their point of view and the one that really fucking matters is my own point of view.

Today I realized that I deserve so much more than I’ve allowed myself to be given.  I don’t blame you, or her, or them.  My part is that I, you, and them teach others how to treat us.  We do.  If I do not see myself as worthy I’m not going to command that from anyone else.

Another level, another layer of the same insect that moved into my head as a child and colored my life choices to date.

By opening myself up to this level of intimacy, vulnerability and love I can see this whole deal in a new light.

A light of love maybe.

Just maybe, a light of love and acceptance for myself that I wasn’t sure I was capable of.

I am.

I’m ready.

Let’s go.