Heavy Heart

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I write this with weariness, a bit of trepidation and an incredibly heavy heart. I know full well that if it were seen by the individual it is written about, a whole whirlwind of anger, abusive language and flurry of drunk emails and texts will begin.
I have not talk to this individual in a couple years. I could not handle her drunken raging. Through counseling, I came to a point where I was strong enough to say “no more” with her. My last interaction with her was 11/9/2011. You can read about it in a previous blog entry: Sisters, Sisters.
I just wish my mother could do the same. She’s so accustomed to not seeing abuse for what it is, and she has such high hopes that one day all of her children will be able to come together and reunite, that she cannot walk away from the tirades she’s put through nightly.  (Literally, nightly.)
I have always wanted a tight relationship with my sister. It was never going to happen. If you talk to her, she will tell you I’m crazy. She will bash me and bad mouth me. She will try to play  sympathy card and rally her troops against me. She will tell you that I am jealous of her. Truth be told, I am not. Maybe in my younger years I was, but I’ve grown far too old to care about petty things like body size and looks. All in all, attitude and demeanor show more about a person’s character than what you adorn on the outside.
The abuse has not stopped. When I hit my ultimate low, I called my mom and asked to come home. I asked for help. I asked for my mom. This is my business, with my life and I asked for my mom’s help. Why?? Because I recognize a woman in need of assistance. I am suicidal. I am very depressed. I, in a sense, am “crazy” if you want to put that label on me. The difference is, I recognize this. I acknowledge this and I can no longer hide or live my life in a manner that is hurtful for my soul and spirit.
When my sister found out I had moved home, she blew up my mom’s text… “Is she finally going to get the help she needs? Or is she just being moody because she was broken up with?” My sister has always passed judgement on me. (Hell, not just me, but anyone she comes across that does not benefit or suit her needs; our mother included.) She cannot handle the fact that she has no control over my life, or can use her methods to influence, hurt or bully me anymore. I cut that out November 2011.
What she doesn’t see is that she is hurting our mother.. each and every derogatory text she sends, she crushes our mother’s spirit more and more. It is abuse. I’ve spent enough time in domestic violence classes, group counseling and individual therapy to know that this is abuse. My mom says to me all the time, “It’s so nice to have you home. At least we have conversations and you don’t lecture me nightly.” I hate seeing her like this. I hate seeing my mom hang her head, take the abuse and cry quietly to herself. I hate that she’s so accustomed to the abuse, she just “All well, she’s just drunk again.” I hate that she has expressed to my sister, “Please, stop. Just stop texting me like this.” and she is totally, completely ignored.
She has bashed me. SHe has bashed my mom. She has turned to other family to play victim. I have not talked to, written, or paid attention to my sister since 2011; there’s a reason for it. I don’t care what she says about me, or to whom. I do care about the emotional and physical toll it’s taking on our mother. It literally hurts me to see my mom’s heart aching as much as it is. My sister’s a drunk, she always will be. She’ll end up drinking herself to death like her father did. She’s her own burden to bare. But she needs to back off of mom. Mom is too old, too fragile to continue putting up a good face for it all.
I don’t hate her. I don’t wish ill will on her. I simply do not want her in my life. If she can, just for one moment, think if someone other than herself,  my “christmas wish” is that she backs off mom and leaves her be. Please. Have some compassion for our mom.
And to answer her question, yep.. I was “moody because I was broken up with.” Am I, “finally getting help?” Yep. I have been since January 21, 2014 when I left my abusive relationship. I am a little crazy. I am a lot depressed; which isn’t a “moody side effect of being broken up with.” I am a human with chaos inside of me. I am a woman with fluctuating hormones due to a hysterectomy and now failing ovaries. I am emotional. I am me. However, I see your query and raise you, “Are you sober yet? Are you getting the help you need?” (maybe that was a bit snarky, but, I feel I need some clarification and redemption. I am just trying to live my life the best of my capabilities; sans alcohol, drugs or lies.)

Inside out

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I am going to do my best to describe exactly what is going on in and out of my body right now. Anxiety and depression are a silent killer. I don’t care what people say, I am slowly dying. I’ve been calling it my slow and silent suicide. It all began the moment I stepped out of the shower this morning.
I had an appointment at the local DSHS office today to assess for disability and medical coverage. I hadn’t even gotten out of my car yet, and the sweating started. I open the doors and enter the facility, the shaking starts. I’m nauseated, dizzy and panicky feeling. I feel like I need to run away. I’m sitting there in a wave of people, loud kids, trying really hard not to lose my insides all over the lobby. I literally feel like I’m exploding from the inside out.
I’m called up to the counter, I can’t even state my name. I’m in such an anxiety ridden body that I’m talking too quietly. In my head the voices are telling me, “everyone’s listening”… “everyone knows your business.” This alone causes more shakes. I begun to wring my hands together, rubbing the corners of my thumb cuticles raw.
I get through the interview, get back to my car and immediately break down. I’m cry like a frightened child. I cried the whole 14 miles back home. I entered home, immediately enter the bathroom and puke.
This… this is not living.
This… is not quality of life.
This… is a portion of who I used to be.
All the while, the other half of my mind’s voices are telling me, “This is not who you are. Get over it. Buck up and learn to live again. Get out of this funk.”
I am literally split. I’m black and I’m white. I’m yin and yang. It’s too intense for me. What the hell is wrong with me. I miss who I was before meeting the abuser. I miss that life. I miss the job, the friends, the social. I hate this. I hate me. I hate this life now.
I’m exhausted.

“Internet Prey”

Internet DatingIn my last post, I had mentioned some comments my aunt said about men, dating, love and more. One of her comments stayed with me., so much so I couldn’t figure out how or why I felt the previous blog was unfinished. I’ve let it marinate on the tip of my mind, formulate through my fingers, and now I am ready to write and process through it. 
The comment that she said, that has stuck with me since she said it, was, ” The guys you meet on the internet are predators nothing more. They prey on women who have low self esteems and then manipulate you and hurt you. They simply aren’t worth it.”
Really? Just men on the internet? Sure, I can guarantee that there are cretins on the internet. Hell, I’ve met a few. But, all men on the internet are predators? I am really bothered by this generalization. I have met a substantial amount of incredible, giving, loving people from the internet; men and women alike. I guess the biggest reason this bothers me is because… she’s a victim; as my mother, and as myself. 
She was preyed upon by men (multiple men) she met through work, life, friends. She has had an abnormal amount of abusive men in her life. But, she never met one of them off the internet; not a single one. Same goes with my mother. Same goes with me. I have had four (five if you count this last one that lasted all of four months) influential, soul developing sexual/love relationships in my life.
My first unsavory relationship I met through friends. I was 18, fresh out on my own and met this guy who turned into an abusive, mean spirited, mouthy s.o.b. My second, my son’s father, ended up being a lying drug addict. Although he didn’t abuse me in any sense, he still was a ‘winner’. I also met him through a friend. My third, my one and only marriage so far, was domineering, money controlling, controlling and emotionally abusive. I met him in in junior high, through a friend. My fourth imperative relationship I met on the internet. He’s the subject of massive abuse that I’ve written about on my blog. 
My fifth, if you want to count him, was not abusive, in any way, shape or form. He loved me fully, and with the best of his abilities. I was the broken one by that point. I was the one too distraught and depressed to be anything viable. I met him on the internet. 
The only reason I’m going down my list of ‘men’ in my life is to show that men who prey, prey regardless of their platform. Women who become victims, do so no matter there station in life; no matter their path, no matter their socioeconomic status, no matter period. For my aunt to be so judgmental of the method in which a person finds love is so wrong. Love will happen. Hurt will happen. Abuse, will happen too. 
A victim needs to learn what aspects about themselves that makes them an easy targets for abusers in order to change their path so they do not become victims again.
I understand she’s about 25+ years my senior. I understand her life has brought her hell, that she’s carried as a burden upon her back like a mule carrying passengers. I get that she’s been hurt as well. But, I kindly ask her to let me live learn on my own; just as she has. 
This does not mean that I am looking for love again; not  now, not in the near future, not at all. But, I refuse to kill what small glimmer of hope that love does exist inside of me. Isn’t this what love is about? Isn’t this what life is about? Trying, trying and trying again?
It doesn’t have to be about love and relationships alone. Try life. Try friendship. Try trust. Try hope. 
Just try. It’s all we have. To be there for ourselves. To be there for others. To fill our lives with what makes us smile, feel alive, feel happiness. No one has the right to demean or belittle another’s process. No one, no matter how hurt or bruised their soul is, has a right to convince another to give up. 
We all hurt. We all have been shattered, broken and thrown out. We have all cried out for help. We are all alike.

Live and let live.

It gets easier with age…

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I will be the first to say that I am in no shape, no way, no want of a new love in my life. But, I am still healing and processing this last very painful heartbreak. I have no desire to find a mate right now. No desire to put myself out there. However, I don’t want to become bitter towards love. I am a dreamer. Just as the gif above says, I have an idea of love in my head. It does not make me wrong, or inept, or unworthy in ANY WAY! I want to nourish and flourish what is already deep inside of me. I do not want to bury myself behind fear and anger.
I had a friend say to me recently, “I feel something. It’s small but I think I feel as if you’re feeling a little better. It’s like a cinder, but there is potential to blaze up.” I can only wish that this ember is burning, and will ignite with fully ready to. I want to hold onto that flame of hope that I feel is slowly dying with each dawning morning. I’m impatient and pushy, I want it now. Here’s why I want it now:
I see my mom, 60+ years old and alone. She’s completely given up on the prospect of love, life and pursuing anything that may actually bring her joy.I do not want to morph into the same person she is. I have hope, and I don’t want that hope crushed. 
My aunt said to me, “You get involved, the relationship hits a stale mate because there isn’t enough in it to sustain it, then you create chaos to reaffirm your already existing feelings of inadequacy.” This last relationship did not hit a ‘stale mate’. It hit a wall of depression. It hit a cross roads of two people from varying avenues in life, with two very radical views of love, dreaming, future and hopes. Doesn’t make him wrong, just makes him very wrong for me. I hope he finds who he’s looking for; a woman that can nourish and grow with his “day to day” ideals. 
Then she said, “Stop trying to create a nuclear family with men who don’t give a shit about you. It won’t change.” She couldn’t be far from the truth. I also find it rather insulting that she would make blank statements that crush whatever dream I have brewing within me. Her life has been filled with creating nuclear families with men who do not care. She’s truly projecting onto me her own inadequacies. That’s her burden to bare, not mine. 
There is nothing wrong with being a woman who wants love. We all deserve love. But most importantly, I deserve to love myself.
“Searching all directions
with one’s awareness,
one finds no one dearer
than oneself.
In the same way, others
are fiercely dear to themselves.
So one should not hurt others
if one loves oneself.”  – Thanissaro Bhikkhu
The gist of this quote, which is often misquoted as being a Buddha quote, “You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.”

In the end, I am thankful for each of my horribly broken relationships. I am even thankful for my bent, broken self. I can only learn and grow from here. I can only take what has happened and process it in a manner that will benefit my love life, my life, and what I can contribute.

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Hidden.

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I never hid who I was; fully. I never tried to keep buried the emotional mess I am. I have a friend who used to use the name, “Beauty in the Breakdown”, at that time I didn’t really ‘get’ it. Now, at this juncture in my life, I totally get it. 

When we were together,  I never hid “me”. I was somewhat accused of being emotionally unavailable. After we spoke last night, however, I believe he was somewhat emotionally unavailable. 

He relayed to me last night he would have married me. He informed me that he had actually seen a future with me, us.. together. His words, “Because, I’m a dumb ass? I tried.. I know I failed. I see that. But I did try. I was too fucking stupid to express it properly… what a douche’.” 

Naw, really???  You think?  He spent months trying to convince me that he doesn’t live for the future, he’s a carpe’ diem type of guy. Seize the day, live for today only. “I don’t attach to the future like that. I don’t have those kinds of dreams.” I literally heard this from him. THIS was our BIGGEST failing. I’m a woman and with that comes the territory of hopes and dreams. We live for the “ooey gooey” romantic bullshit. Why do you think romantic comedies are such a great fucking genre’ of films? Women… Dream. 

But he tells me now?? NOW?? He backs it up with, “I can’t, I won’t and I don’t want to go back to that with you.” 

So you love me, but you don’t. 
You wanted a future with me, but you didn’t.
You think I’m this “awesome incredible chick”, but not enough so to fight through whatever the breakdown in our communications were. 

I was promised a safe house to work through my emotional turmoil that sat upon my shoulders like the world on Atlas’. I was promised “home” to land at after spreading my wings for growth. But then you panicked and bailed. You panicked and pulled back. You panicked and “let me go” as you say. I don’t see it as letting me go. I feel a bunch of broken promises from a man who scared himself with the reality of actually settling down, finding true love and threw it away when it became too real.

Now, in the end, and in my healing process, I get to look back and realize that there is some emotional dysfunct on his end too. But I don’t hate him. I don’t even dislike him. I’m still very much in love with him, and every other man (if I date ever again) when compared will be found lacking in so many ways. Two very broken souls, from two very broken homes with two very broken love pasts, are not set forth in attempting to do it all again.

But I am thankful for him, in keeping true to my blog’s actual theme of gratitude. I am thankful for him. I learned, after the two year abusive partner, that I AM worthy of love. I am worth being completely in love with someone. That eventually, I will be loved unconditionally. I will receive support when needed, from someone who wants to genuinely gift it to me. I am beautiful, and there are people who do love me regardless of height, weight, size, intelligence. 

I thank him for the love he was able to give, in the best manner he knew how. 
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