. Content of Your Soul .

I watched the video/commercial. I am stating my opinion, which may be biased as a woman, but here we go. I see absolutely nothing wrong with this commercial.

 

If anything, I find it empowering, for BOTH men and women.

 

If anything, I find it validating, for BOTH men and women.

 

If you’re a man who is finding issue with a commercial or company promoting respect, then the issue is not with the content of the commercial, but the content of your soul.

We are in the midst of an awakening within our society. People, men and women alike,  are beginning to hold each other accountable for unacceptable behaviors.

Women no longer need to remain tight lipped with grace over inappropriate behaviors, comments, or actions towards them or their bodies.

Women no longer need to, “smile and giggle” when there’s an unwanted ass grab. 

Women no longer need to accept unsolicited dick pics in private message while active on social media.

Men no longer need to remain “tough” and carry the persona of “strength” when bullied, belittled, or mocked for showing emotion.

Men no longer have to hide their “less than masculine” hobbies or interests. I have male friends who find that over the last 10-20 years, aspects of their “male persona” have changed. “I used to be uncomfortable with my wife’s purse in our cart. Now, I just don’t care.”

Men are even allowed to show support in one another without it looking, “Gay”.

If toxic masculinity is, as Piers Morgan says, “… pathetic global assault on masculinity,” then why is it even a hot topic? What I am finding is that men who are offended, protesting, and boycotting like Piers Morgan, are avoiding the question of whether or not they’re actually guilty of these very behaviors.” (compiled with the fact that a lot of them I’m reading on social media haven’t actually WATCHED the video). Don’t come at me with your defensiveness if you haven’t fully educated yourself on the topic at hand.

Just to be clear, Gillette’s ad does not implicate all men as those who act in this manner. This ad promotes that all men should hold each other accountable by calling out the behaviors.

This is not attacking “all” men for this behavior, it’s attacking the behavior itself. If those seeing this as an attack on “all men’s” masculinity, then it’s not the commercial with the issue, it’s your perception of masculinity that is.

“The gender doth protest too much,  me thinks. “

Maybe it’s time to actually discuss and define, “Toxic Masculinity”? What I have found researching the new coined term, “…a manifestation of Patriarchy that both harms men, and causes men to be violent and aggressive against women and occasionally other men.”

Personally, for me, it is when we even need to call out “boys will be boys” mentality. It’s when we tell girls that, “…it means he likes you if he pulls your hair”, as opposed to teaching our sons that pulling hair is not way to express your crush on a person.

Or, the doxxing of female game programers, artists, geeks, nerds, cosplayers, and activists who fight against the men who feel women have no place in the gaming cyber geek world.

Women, such as Brianna Wu, had all of their personal information released online opening avenues of abuse from men worldwide. “One tweet said, “I’ve got a K-bar and I’m coming to your house so I can shove it up your ugly feminist cunt.”

If you do not see an issue with this, then the problem isn’t Gillette, again, it’s you and your belief systems.

Another example of abuse because of gender and nationality, Kelly Marie tran. Who had this to say when she penned a beautiful statement as to why she’s leaving social media. She was mocked and harassed for everything from gender to weight, from role to ethnicity. The attackers took open hunt on her instagram and even her woookiepedia page.

Their words seemed to confirm what growing up as a woman and a person of color already taught me: that I belonged in margins and spaces, valid only as a minor character in their lives and stories,” Tran wrote. “Their words reinforced a narrative I had heard my whole life: that I was “other,” that I didn’t belong, that I wasn’t good enough, simply because I wasn’t like them. And that feeling, I realize now, was, and is, shame, a shame for the things that made me different, a shame for the culture from which I came from. And to me, the most disappointing thing was that I felt it at all.”

Or, how schools push and shame their preteen to teen girls about their clothing, as opposed to teaching boys to respect women and their bodies, and then punish them for wearing shorts and tank tops in 102 degree weather.

Our daughters are raised with vile, sexually charged advertising in EVERYTHING, but then shamed if they immulate the very examples they’re taught. Toxic masculinity is defending and promoting advertisers like Abercrombie & Fitch or Carl’s Jr, who make a point of objectifying women, and encouraging the behaviors behind it. There’s even a study that shows men and women (BOTH) are affected mentally by these types of advertisers. (Sited Resource) This study has found that sexualized advertisements could have a negative effect on men as well as women .

Final example of toxic masculinity, in my eyes, are the sheer number of sexual violence and assaults that do not get reported. Why? Because women aren’t taken serious when they say they are victims.

Do you know how many rape kits have sat unopened, unexamined, untested? In my state, Washington State, according to a 2018 statewide inventory conducted by the Attorney General’s Office, 6,460 backlogged. If that’s just one state, imagine the numbers for our whole nation. It doesn’t help when certain celebrities promote these ideals. 

If toxic masculinity isn’t a thing, there wouldn’t be NUMEROUS social media pages dedicated to showing that women are property/meat, and men deserve all of it no questions asked….
Because, as Piers Morgan says, “Let boys be damn boys. Let men be damn men. Sexually harasses coanchor.

More sources:
Women Women Refuse

#MeToo

Addressing Gender-Based Harassment in Social Media: A Call to Action
Rachel N. Simons, The University of Texas at Austin

End the Backlog – Accountability Project by Joyful Heart Foundation

Justice and Research Statistics Association

#Gillette #MeToo #Empowerment #Toxicmasculinity

. Such a Funk .

I need to find my way back; stuck in a funk that has influenced so many aspects of my life. I take this negative, unhealthy, toxic vibe from work home with me. I feel unheard, dismissed, and devalued. After two conversations today, I realized that there is a faded path that can, and will, lead me back. Two conversations that delivered two weed whacking weapons that will help clear that overgrown path to mental clarity. 

First conversation was with my sister; my younger sister who has more life experience that I could ever fathom having. She made a very strong point when helping me digest and process the events at work today. One thing she noticed about me and this job, was that of my love and gratitude for my coworkers. The last time I posted my #6915495 reasons for loving my job and coworkers was in July 2017. I can actually start documenting from that point forward when my gratitude began to slip into dissatisfaction. 

 

Last Received

Example

First time

Second conversation was with a very trusted co-worker who is able to tell it to me how it is; no sugar coating. I have a ton of respect for this approach. She’s also a woman who is not afraid to stand behind and let you figure it out yourself. Women who help, guide, and stay supportive are truly a value. She brought to my attention today, that November is “National Gratitude Month.” 
OH Snap….Gratitude Month.. and I plum forgot on my Gratitude Blog. She has patiently listened to me as I worked through the best way to deal with this trial at work. She’s offered advice when needed. She’s also has said nothing at all when she knows that’s what I needed most. Mere words cannot describe the respect, gratitude, and admiration I have in her. She is a mentor; a guardian angel.

I firmly believe that the way back to a positive vibe and zen in the office, is through the recognition and application of gratitude in my daily life. As the overgrown path becomes visible before me,  I will use my heart, wit, and positive attitude to cut down the toxic weeds of negativity. I will no longer focus on each moment of trite, snippy, aggressive comments. I will not allow it to take up space in my head before, during, or after work. 

Again, this is no a reflection of me. I will no longer brow beat myself into a bloody, blubbery pulp wondering what I could have done different. Even if the stars were aligned perfectly, and mercury wasn’t in a pmsy retrograde, her attitude won’t be any different. This is on her. I will no longer allow her shitty outlook on everything umbrella our office, cutting off the sunlight. This is on her. Let HER live a negative existence. But, alas, I digress. This blog wasn’t to rehash or ruminate over the wrong doings. It’s meant to focus on the positive. 

Today, coming late into the game, I am thankful for the heart and ears of two strong women in my life. Thank you for the perspective you both gave, from two varying directions, that pushed my mind back onto my path. Pebbles found on this path are gratitude, forgiveness, positivity, mindfulness, and accountability.

. Be Impeccable .

A. “Find joy in everything you choose to do. Every job, relationship, home… it’s your responsibility to love it, or change it.” – chuck Palahniuk.
B. “Watch out for the joy stealers: Gossip, Criticism, Complaining, Faultfinding, and a Negative, Judgmental Attitude!” Joyce Mayer
C. “If  you don’t like something, change it. If you can’t change it, change your attitude.” Maya Angelou
D. If it no longer works for you, then leave. It’s never worth staying at a job that makes you miserable and doesn’t help you become a better person. 

Be impeccable. This is the sage words of advice given to me by my significant other. This has been is chant since I started sharing with him the troubles I’m having at work. It started about 8 months ago. It really isn’t anything that should be major, but it definitely has become so. It’s learning to navigate in a shared office with someone who isn’t the most cheerful person. I have no clue how to steer this ship through the thick, murky air that’s been created.

I can respect the fact that people have bad days, or wake up on the wrong side of the bed. I can even respect the whole, “Hell, I don’t want to be here today.” WE ALL have those days; I have those days. But, when it has become a daily occurrence, combined with a negative personality, I just cave. I do not have the tools in my life box to work and manage this on my own. I have no clue how to do any of the suggestions I’ve found on numerous websites.

I have become very much triggered. My C-PTSD is off the charts right now. I have been sick. When I get overly stressed, it tends to affect me from the inside out. I am antsy, anxious, and super angry. I am shaky. My blood sugars have been off; in the high range.  I’ve developed massive heartburn. I’m not sleeping, and when I do, it’s very light non-REM sleep. I cry on my way home. I am so exhausted and spent when I do get home, I feed the dogs, potty the dogs, and tend to go to sleep.

I have to mantra on my way to work, “This is not a reflection of you. This does not dictate your work ethic. You be you, you do you. Stay true to you.” Literally, every day on my way to work. This truly isn’t a reflection of me. Remembering that in the heat of the issue has been really hard to grasp and hang on to. I start out my mornings strong. “You be you..” I am, daily.

I find joy every chance I get. I find joy in my coworkers. I find that my dry humor and quick wit is actually well received and returned with grins, giggles, and legitimate friendships. It has taken a LIFETIME, in a career sense, to find this. This IS my home. I don’t care if it’s just a simple Administrative position. I’m at that age where work ethic, a great atmosphere, and coworkers are more important that advancement, achievements, and a paycheck. (Granted, as long as wages match the cost of living here, lol, I’m totally content.) 

Joy and Gratitude (Hence the blog name) are really the major components that drive my life. I had a shitty childhood with a severe lack of joy. I had a shitty young adult life, with the only joy being my son. I’ve had a hard time finding, acknowledging, and reveling in the joy I have manifested in my own life. I MANIFESTED. I didn’t wait for it to find me, I fought tooth and nail to acquire exactly what I want and need to live successfully. I have changed every aspect of my life to love it fully.

 

I have learned the art of self awareness. I have the strength to set and hold boundaries. I am able to watch for the joy stealers; complaining, criticism, and negative judgmental attitudes. So much, in fact, I have cut my number one negative person out of my life – my mom.

How does one do it when it’s at work? I do not have the ability to control the whole environment. I can only control my little space around my desk, and unfortunately, I share an office. This person I share the office with is one of those that is described above: Joy Stealer. I’m not attacking this person. I’m stating a fact. This person is super

 unhappy with their life, thus makes everyone around suffer the negativity as well. I try, on a daily basis, to overcome the negativity.

Frankly,  2 o’clock hits, and so does the headache. This headache lingers until I get home around 6-630p. Headache brings heartburn, brings shakes. I’m exhausted. I start to shut down. I have no fight and my force shield starts to drop. I can only control my reaction, and I’m failing at keeping it up and strong. I know that if it’s something I cannot change, then I can control my attitude towards it. 

I approached this person a few months ago. I had an open, candid conversation. Things started to get better. It was observed by other co-workers. The office energy had began to grow positive, thrive even. Something shifted. Then, I let my guard down, came to work without my mantras. I was not even focusing on hope or prayer that it will be breathable, something shifted yet again. 

I am back to being completely at a loss. So lost in fact, I’ve become the very behavior I’m frustrated with: volatile, hostile, irritable, cranky, and brash. I’ve become a face with a scowl, standoffish demeanor, and unapproachable persona. All the things I strive NOT to become. It’s like the negative energy has been so thick and suffocating, it’s pulled me in. I have to become the energy to survive within the energy. THIS IS NOT ME. I hate this. I don’t know if I am more frustrated with the fact that this has been a concern of mine for about seven months now. Or, if I am more frustrated because I allowed it to control my outcomes. I am not a hostile person. I cringe at the thought that I can be.

I am trying to figure out how and where to go from here. I’ll be damned if I leave this position. This isn’t a job or a paycheck, this is a new found family for me. I’m invested in those around me, and care sincerely about the happenings in their lives: births, weddings, deaths, birthdays, everything. I will not be pushed out, even if that’s not the intent from this other person. I know me well enough that I don’t fight, I walk away. I refuse to walk away. 

The struggle in that is that I am back to only being able to control myself. I have read every freaking “Toxic work environment” self help website I can find. I have listened to various TED talks. I can only control so much around me, and can only control my own reactions. How does one person actually thrive while slowly being squished? I am worn out. I am so freaking tired. I’m at a loss and unsure how to process and proceed.

* I want to be there. This office mate has made it very clear that they do not; job searching, submitting resumes’, and taking interview calls.
* I want to try to make this work, which I have on a daily basis. I have extended the olive branch. I have reached out. * I have asked if there was a way to rectify it directly with this person.
* I have asked for guidance from supervisor(s). I have received great input, positive options, viable solutions. I have tried to initiate these options. It was received once by them, and only to be dismissed shortly after.
* I hate feeling like I am walking on egg shells, and this is where the PTSD kicks in. I feel exactly how I did when I came come to my abuser, I didn’t know what mood mask he would be wearing and how it will affect my night. I feel this way going into work. I don’t know what mood mask this office mate will be wearing, and how it will affect my day.
* I have tools in my emotional tool box to try to work through it: headphones, support from coworkers, support from my boyfriend.
* I am a 41 year old woman dealing with the office drama of a 20+ something. 

I have hope that this is salvageable. I know that I am an asset. I’ve been reassured that this is very much so. I know my work, work ethic, and my standing. I know that I contribute to the organization in a strong, sturdy, manner. I know that my coworkers can and do count on me. I am able to communicate my needs, concerns, and wants. I can get through this, as I am strong, intelligent, and experienced. I know that the only way through this is with patience and compassion. I needed to write this out, so formulate my thoughts, so that I can see the root cause. I needed to remind myself of patience and compassion. I need to get back to a place of mindfulness and zen.

Heavy Heart

 

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.)

“Internet Prey”

In 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.

Defined.

 This is a post in regards to the shitty, judgmental, interview I had earlier this week. I wanted to post a big long rant about the whole process, but frankly, I lost steam. It’s not worth it. It’s not worth trying to convince anyone with a negative view about anything otherwise. I lost steam. Sad, isn’t it? To lose steam over something that directly effects me in interviews, walking the street, eating or being out with my boyfriend. I’m judged. I’m fat. Society attempts define my character by my waist size and body mass.  I say smeg off. Simple as that.

SMEG OFF.

I wanted to write a letter. I wanted to defend my right to work, live, breathe … exist on this planet. I wanted to sell myself like a sales person, defining why I would be an ideal candidate for this position. But, do I really want to work for a company that pushes a falsified image, or a “socially acceptable” image over work ethics, experiences, and/or skills? I am a morbidly obese woman, nearing 40, who knows the job. I’ve been working in medical since I was 15 yrs old. I started as a laundry aide, to dietary aide, to RNA , to CNA and finally graduating as an M.A.

I. KNOW. MY. SHIT.

My work ethics, abilities, skills and ability to understand and do the job IS NOT DEFINED BY THE NUMBERS ON MY SCALE. 

 

Lessons on Paper.

Reading a book called, “Why Does He Do That?: Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men” by  Lundy Bancroft. It outlines and defines the characteristics of abusive batterers. These are the sections that directly relate to, and define, my relationship with my abuser. 

Image 1:  “This patters is common in abusive relationships; an abusive man is often unusually good at expressing an intensity of caring early in a relationship and can make you feel so special and chosen- as if you were the only person who could ever matter so much to him.” 

I know that this is the very reason I managed to attracted my abuser. As indicated in numerous other posts on my blog, I was a child who did not grow up on a life of nurturing and support. I did not have unconditional love. I never felt ‘special’ by my mother, and I never knew my father. I grew up an married an absent man. I spent just shy of ten years with him. He was disconnected, absent, and really vacant throughout our marriage. When I left him, I stumbled onto the abuser. I had spent a life of feeling like a burden, problem, or unwanted. I didn’t even feel comfortable in my silence, in my space, in my own head. I was overwhelmed with how special I felt in the beginning of the relationship with him. He was charismatic, doting, and attentive. 

Image 2:  The Player (One of the archetypes of abusers) – These three bullet points are completely him:
* Women are put on this earth to have sex with me – especially me. 
* Women who have sex are too loose, and women who refuse sex are too uptight.
This one right here from the moment we had sex the first time. I never heard the end of it. I was “easy”. I didn’t make the conquest hard enough for him. I literally would fight with him about “We were just two adults doing adult things. It doesn’t make me a bad or horrible person.” He never, ever got over that. He held it against me for the whole duration of or relationship. He shamed me and made me feel like all I was worth was fucking, and even then, barely worth that because I cannot have kids. “Barren” “Dried up old bitch” “Unbreedable Cunt”. Yes, I  literally was called those names before and after sex with him. 
* If you could meet my sexual needs, I wouldn’t have to turn to other women. <– Everything from women online to local women. I literally stood by his side while we were at karaoke one night, while he encouraged another woman at the bar to hang on him. While he was holding my hand, she seductively put her arms around his neck, leaned in and said, “You smell so fucking good”… He didn’t push her off. He didn’t stop her. He was holding my hand, letting me know that if I didn’t give him what he wanted, he full well could get it elsewhere. I was not allowed to be friends with any other male, online or elsewhere, without him flipping the fuck out on me. All women are evil, lying cunts, who cheat. I was just another one he was waiting for it happen with. But he, on the other hand, hit on my friends, he friend requested all my female friends on facebook and then flirted with them.
And I just let it happen… for two years.

Image 3:  Mr Sensitive (One of the archetypes of abusers) – These three bullet points are completely him:
* As long as I use a lot of ‘psychobabble,’ no one is going to believe that I am mistreating you.
* I can control you by analyzing how your mind and emotions work, and what your issues are from childhood. I can get inside your head whether your want me there or not.
* Nothing in the world is more important than my feelings.

Image 4:  The Terrorist (One of the archetypes of abusers) – These three bullet points are completely him:
* You have no right to defy me or leave me. Your life is in my hands.
* I would rather die than accept your right to independence.
* Seeing you terrified is exciting and satisfying.

Takes on a whole new meaning.

I hate to do it, I hate to say it, But.. I hate you.

I cannot stand that even a sliver of you is still within me. I wish I could just file it away and go on, move on, continue with my life.

I know my blog is supposed to be about embracing thankfulness. I know it was originally created to finding reasons each day of why I am filled with love and gratitude. It’s kind of hard to find the wonderfulness in this big sea of life when I wade through your toxic shit you dumped in my head. Your voice is the devil’s incarnate. 

I have constant thoughts throughout my day of reasons why I hate you. Those thoughts usually walk hand in hand with the vile things you said to me. (Still say to me actually, even if it’s just an echo of time.) I have lists, so many lists,  of things said and done that caused me to lose just a little more of myself each day. I am slowly learning the triggers that cause your words to replay like a residual haunting in my soul.

I’ve been lectured to and reminded not to give you the satisfaction, strength or feed into your need as an abuser, batterer and narcissistic  by even writing or compiling a list like this. But this is how I process. This is how I have learned to shovel the decomposing rot that is steadily getting piling inside. I do not want what you did to me to be a dictator of how I live my life any more.

But, these are my reasons why I wish you would just die already.

1.  I hate you because of my music. I hate that I was not at all allowed to listen to “Someone Like You” by Adele without ridicule. Any of my music actually, but this song… this was my song. This was THE SONG I  practiced relentlessly to sing at karaoke. But you had numerous tantrums until I just finally stopped listening. You would do asshole moves like, if I put my music on just to get a taste of my enjoyment again, you’d put your music on twice as loud. You LITERALLY drowned me out of my likes, tastes, anything thing that was a representation of everything I am inside. You stole that. You stole my enjoyment of music. For two years I was subjected to your shit: Bee Gees, ELO, and stupid rap shit. There was no variety. There was no appreciation for Otis to Dead Kennedy’s. It was all about you, your childhood, and what music soothed YOUR soul. Here’s an example of how it was all about you:  I had the chance to see The Hobbit; my love, my passion, my dwarves! I fell in LOVE with “Misty Mountains Cold” and wanted to listen to it at night, to fall asleep to it. I mean, for TWO YEARS I had to listen to “Star Wars: Empire Strikes Back” on audio (no, not the soundtrack, the audio track of the whole movie) EVERY NIGHT on repeat. I know more about that movie than I ever wanted to in my life. But,  because I loved you and wanted to support your endeavors and passions, I did this with/for you. The moment I turned on my music, Misty Mountains Cold, you flipped the fuck out. FLIPPED OUT on me; irrationally. Because, “NO fucking way am I listening to sad, depressing shit when I GO to sleep.” Gee. Thanks. You’re such a swell person.  And for that, I hate you.

2. Every fucking girl is competition; yes she STILL IS. You made every woman we passed fucking competition. You didn’t make them jealous of me, no no, you made me jealous of every one of them. From snide comments about their body to physically flirting with them in front of me. Here’s a story. I went to church Sunday. I haven’t used my bible since we last went together. Inside of my bible was a note card for our old church. Written on this note card was an accusation from me, “You dig her!”  Really, because this is what I should be worried about sitting in church right? I never used to be competition with women. Instead, I was one steady on lifting my fellow sister up. You fucking stripped that from me too. I hate that I second guess who I am around any other woman. I hate wondering if I’m being judged by them, like you placed judgement on me. And for that, I fucking hate you.

3. I have panic attacks eating. It does not matter if I am eating a salad, eating popcorn in the privacy of my room, eating out with friends, or eating a burger on the go. I can’t handle anyone else seeing me eat. I hide my food while driving. I won’t take a bite of my lunch if anyone else is around. Because I just KNOW they (everyone else around me) is looking at me saying, “Look at you shoveling food.” “Fat cow.” “Ugly toad.” “Have another cookie.” I loved food; still do really but now there is a lot of anxiety around it. I hate that I can’t have a relationship with food, whether healthy or unhealthy. If I eat a salad in public now I hear, “Ya, fat girl needs the salad.” I feel shamed inside, like I’m not worthy of going out and having a good time. I should just hide because of my weight, especially if it is surrounding food. And for that, I fucking hate you.

4. “Fag” book/facebook, video games, reading, especially writing … anything that “took time away from you” has now become a stressor or trigger for me. You literally told me that you were jealous of the time I spent doing…. well anything else that wasn’t doting or worshiping you. If you had it your way, I would have cooked naked while bending over kissing your feet while you fucked me, insulted me and compared me to other women… as long as your needs were met though right? Every ounce of who I was was raped from me; every ounce. I cannot read and retain a book now, because I have panic while reading. I play a video game and become hyper-aware of the time, how much time I’m spending, any chore that needs to be done. I MISS VIDEO GAMES. I MISS vegging out with a book, game, or at my laptop writing. I wish I could find the passion in me to do the things that I really enjoy. I’m so numb and I’ve lost creativity. I try all the time to sit down and write, I lose steam about 1/4 way into it, because it’s mentally exhausting being on edge all the time. And for that, I fucking hate you.

5. I missed the boat on making some really good friends in ‘our town’. You, on the other hand, made friends everywhere. I, however, tried to and was met with physical fights from you. I could have had a good friend in her. We were a lot of like. Same ideas, outlooks, life experiences. She was strong and that scared the fuck out of you. I wasn’t allowed to be her friend because of it.

He, well, he is still my friend. FRIEND, douche’ bag, FRIEND. Just because YOU shag every thing that comes in your path, doesn’t mean that’s my characteristic. Him and I still talk, daily almost. Because he was a friend, and still is. I am thankful for him. I do have panic talking to him though. I’m super stressed out because of the fear of how it’s going to be taken by others. I question the motives of everyone trying to be a friend now, because I have forgotten what it’s like myself. And for that, I fucking hate you.

 A time will come when I am no longer haunted by your stinging nettles, your rash you creating on my skin, in my mind, on the surface of my soul. I will no longer preoccupy my mind with your pregnant words of hate and hurt. One day, I will learn to love and trust again. Before I do that, though, I will love and trust myself. I will give birth to the healing process and nurture the new me in ways I was neglected as a child. I will grow into a flower; a sunflower.

With my strong stalk, standing tall and displaying all my color, compassion and grandeur. I will be inviting the right ones in, to take harvest of every aspect of me, that makes me and that I have to offer them. 

And all you’ll ever be is the shitty manure that helped me grow.

You Got This, so Own It Already!