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.