Dangerously familiar

Hot mess – http://wp.me/p271pb-8U

I wrote that post about a month after I purposely swallowed a handful of pills with half a bottle of vodka. Needless to say, I still woke up several hours later. I took enough to knock out a horse and all I got was a few hours of sleep. At 2 in the morning I reached for a life line by sending a text to a friend. It was my call for help. Immediately he called and I answered the phone sobbing in shame and embarrassment of what brought me into this darkness and only admitted the truth to him because I was still drunk.

I had been on a drinking binge that last month mixed with xanax and pain pills left over from a surgery. That night the pain of what I did mixed with the rejection became too much to bare. I had built up a tolerance and needed more and more to feel relief from them. He was a recovered addict and helped guide me out. After that I weaned myself off xanax which I had taken for over 13 years, and I stopped drinking completely.

This was the result of what I refer to as my falling off the wagon. Not because of the booze and pills. It was a drug that I struggled with since I was a kid. My ex-husband whom I met at 13 and immediately was in a trans by him. We lost touch for years and I began my life with a different guy. 3 years later I was 18 pregnant with twins and alone, a friend reconnected us and I was putty in his hand.

After our traumatic 10 year marriage, I finally broke free from him. I had been “sober” from him for 8 years, most of that time living in hiding from him then relapsed back to the devil after losing my support system and best friend. This followed a 2 year severe depression and from disappointment and shame in myself, that night resulted. This was the lowest moment in life for me, all of it but the only time I actually risked leaving my children motherless. What a very selfish and weak moment and while I still have my bad days, never that bad.

I always have this whispering in my ear, reminding me how far I fell down with him. I’m terrible at making connections with people, so I fear being alone forever but I need to accept being alone to keep my strength. It’s my security. I can’t fall that hard ever again. Honestly I would rather die.

Because of him, I’m terrified to really live. I’m terrified to completely give myself to anyone, afraid I will lose the controlled and rational person I’ve become. Afraid I will never be chosen. Afraid I’m not good enough, pretty enough, successful enough, sexy enough. I know I am but he proved I was not and there was always 10 females in line trying to take my place. He convinced me that men can’t control themselves with temptations no matter how deep they love or how unattractive the woman is. Sex is sex and when the lights are off none of that matters.

He trained my brain to believe what he needed to make me stay. I didn’t stay because I was afraid I couldn’t find anyone. I stayed because I loved him deeply and I honestly didn’t think I could do better. I loved the fantasy he painted in my head. He convinced me that we were soul mates but he also tore down my self esteem. When he was mad, his words were evil and savage. And intentionally said to tear me down and tear me down it did, like a fucking battling ram. I felt unworthy, useless and unattractive. I was ashamed and embarrassed of what I had become and what I had accepted.

If we went out and men hit on me, even though I immediately shot them down and proudly pointed to my husband, I was in the wrong and I would pay for that at home. He said they wanted me strictly for sex and I was nothing to them. That no one saw me the way he did, and no one would ever love me as he did. Then when we went home he was abusive and sex was demanded. I’d cry as he forced himself into me, be it my mouth or my vagina, yelling that I belong to him and no one could ever taste or touch my pussy (his words). I was his property and I belonged to him.

Eventually I stopped fighting. I did what he said, I learned it was easier that way. When I grew frustrated with his cheating and tried to end it or even argued with him to defend myself, he’d say that it was me who drove him to cheat or be crazy. That I made him “crazy in love” because I was his and no-one could have me but him. He would kill any man who even thought of touching me if I ever left him. He always wanted to prove to me he could immediately move on even though he “didn’t want to”, it was me pushing him away with my cold demeanor that pushed him into someone else’s bed and they meant nothing. It was “just fucking” with them but he “only made love to me.” And eventually I believed him.

I was beaten down mentally, emotionally, and physically. It took most of the marriage before I learned not to fight back, it was a waste of my energy to try to make him hear me and those fights were awful. I finally got to a point I didn’t make him leave the home, I didn’t kick him out but he would not have my conversation and I would withhold my attention to him. If I gave him sex, I literally laid there while he rolled on top of me and pumped away for a few minutes. I didn’t even look at him. In the beginning I’d silently cry and a single tear would roll down my face. Eventually I didn’t cry, I was used to this. When he was done he’d say how he can’t help himself with me, he was powerless over his desire for me and no one did this to him but me. He’d kiss me, roll off and wash his dick in the bathroom sink. This was our normal.

2.5 years ago I met a man and fell in love. But you see, I couldn’t openly admit this for most of that relationship. Partly from fear of it triggering that devil’s rage to come back around, and partly because it terrifies me to love. Eventually it ends, which it did and I hate the sadness that follows losing love. Most of that relationship he was fighting his demons, hiding his struggles from me. His medication of choice was vodka. A lot of vodka.

His struggles caused him to pull away and withhold truths from me, and I read that as he didn’t really love me. That all his beautiful words were fake. He hid relationships from me, secrets and lies. My wall went up because all I saw was that he wasn’t real. I heard my ex-husband in my head “I told you that you’re not good enough and no one would love you”. I even replayed a memory with my daughters father when he told me I pushed him to drugs because I was too much.

Distance has it’s way of making you look at things differently. My anger from the lies turned into pain over losing who I thought he was. While he can be the most gentle caring person, his other behavior is too familiar of that toxic marriage. I think back when he immediately moved on with another girl during one of our breakups… “Tell me you will take me back and I’m yours, she’s not you”. “She’s sitting 5 feet from me now and I’m sitting here texting you how much I love you, tell me that doesn’t tell you where my head is, it’s on you”. He sent me a hot photo of us together when the sex was our shared drug, telling me “I still watch and touch myself to you at all times!” She was sitting with him and he was saying this to me, looking at our pictures right across from her. He didn’t care that she was with him, he repeatedly claimed “Jesus fuck I only want you!”.

So much has happened since then, but one thing has always been.

I miss him.

I saw him as my best friend so foolishly I keep trying to continue our friendship. And at first he’s back to funny meme’s and inside jokes, letting me vent. Messages when I wake up, all day long until I fall asleep. Again telling him “dude get to work!”. But he quickly comes out of nowhere for sex. And yes a part of me wants that, but it’s dangerous. This time was so clear.

He only wanted sex.

It only took a few days this time. He had no interest in our friendship. I’ve held him up on a pedestal before thinking he was genuine, just a mess and who am I to not sympathize considering my life is the definition of being a work in progress. But now the crushing blow of truth – he is no different and my ex was at least partly right.

Advertisements

Dangerously familiar

Hot mess – http://wp.me/p271pb-8U

I wrote that post about a month after I purposely swallowed a handful of pills with half a bottle of vodka. Needless to say, I still woke up several hours later. I took enough to knock out a horse and all I got was a few hours of sleep. At 2 in the morning I reached for a life line by sending a text to a friend. It was my call for help. Immediately he called and I answered the phone sobbing in shame and embarrassment of what brought me into this darkness and only admitted the truth to him because I was still drunk.

I had been on a drinking binge that last month mixed with xanax and pain pills left over from a surgery. That night the pain of what I did mixed with the rejection became too much to bare. I had built up a tolerance and needed more and more to feel relief from them. He was a recovered addict and helped guide me out. After that I weaned myself off xanax which I had taken for over 13 years, and I stopped drinking completely.

This was the result of what I refer to as my falling off the wagon. Not because of the booze and pills. It was a drug that I struggled with since I was a kid. My ex-husband whom I met at 13 and immediately was in a trans by him. We lost touch for years and I began my life with a different guy. 3 years later I was 18 pregnant with twins and alone, a friend reconnected us and I was putty in his hand.

After our traumatic 10 year marriage, I finally broke free from him. I had been “sober” from him for 8 years, most of that time living in hiding from him then relapsed back to the devil after losing my support system and best friend. This followed a 2 year severe depression and from disappointment and shame in myself, that night resulted. This was the lowest moment in life for me, all of it but the only time I actually risked leaving my children motherless. What a very selfish and weak moment and while I still have my bad days, never that bad.

I always have this whispering in my ear, reminding me how far I fell down with him. I’m terrible at making connections with people, so I fear being alone forever but I need to accept being alone to keep my strength. It’s my security. I can’t fall that hard ever again. Honestly I would rather die.

Because of him, I’m terrified to really live. I’m terrified to completely give myself to anyone, afraid I will lose the controlled and rational person I’ve become. Afraid I will never be chosen. Afraid I’m not good enough, pretty enough, successful enough, sexy enough. I know I am but he proved I was not and there was always 10 females in line trying to take my place. He convinced me that men can’t control themselves with temptations no matter how deep they love or how unattractive the woman is. Sex is sex and when the lights are off none of that matters.

He trained my brain to believe what he needed to make me stay. I didn’t stay because I was afraid I couldn’t find anyone. I stayed because I loved him deeply and I honestly didn’t think I could do better. I loved the fantasy he painted in my head. He convinced me that we were soul mates but he also tore down my self esteem. When he was mad, his words were evil and savage. And intentionally said to tear me down and tear me down it did, like a fucking battling ram. I felt unworthy, useless and unattractive. I was ashamed and embarrassed of what I had become and what I had accepted.

If we went out and men hit on me, even though I immediately shot them down and proudly pointed to my husband, I was in the wrong and I would pay for that at home. He said they wanted me strictly for sex and I was nothing to them. That no one saw me the way he did, and no one would ever love me as he did. Then when we went home he was abusive and sex was demanded. I’d cry as he forced himself into me, be it my mouth or my vagina, yelling that I belong to him and no one could ever taste or touch my pussy (his words). I was his property and I belonged to him.

Eventually I stopped fighting. I did what he said, I learned it was easier that way. When I grew frustrated with his cheating and tried to end it or even argued with him to defend myself, he’d say that it was me who drove him to cheat or be crazy. That I made him “crazy in love” because I was his and no-one could have me but him. He would kill any man who even thought of touching me if I ever left him. He always wanted to prove to me he could immediately move on even though he “didn’t want to”, it was me pushing him away with my cold demeanor that pushed him into someone else’s bed and they meant nothing. It was “just fucking” with them but he “only made love to me.” And eventually I believed him.

I was beaten down mentally, emotionally, and physically. It took most of the marriage before I learned not to fight back, it was a waste of my energy to try to make him hear me and those fights were awful. I finally got to a point I didn’t make him leave the home, I didn’t kick him out but he would not have my conversation and I would withhold my attention to him. If I gave him sex, I literally laid there while he rolled on top of me and pumped away for a few minutes. I didn’t even look at him. In the beginning I’d silently cry and a single tear would roll down my face. Eventually I didn’t cry, I was used to this. When he was done he’d say how he can’t help himself with me, he was powerless over his desire for me and no one did this to him but me. He’d kiss me, roll off and wash his dick in the bathroom sink. This was our normal.

2.5 years ago I met a man and fell in love. But you see, I couldn’t openly admit this for most of that relationship. Partly from fear of it triggering that devil’s rage to come back around, and partly because it terrifies me to love. Eventually it ends, which it did and I hate the sadness that follows losing love. Most of that relationship he was fighting his demons, hiding his struggles from me. His medication of choice was vodka. A lot of vodka.

His struggles caused him to pull away and withhold truths from me, and I read that as he didn’t really love me. That all his beautiful words were fake. He hid relationships from me, secrets and lies. My wall went up because all I saw was that he wasn’t real. I heard my ex-husband in my head “I told you that you’re not good enough and no one would love you”. I even replayed a memory with my daughters father when he told me I pushed him to drugs because I was too much.

Distance has it’s way of making you look at things differently. My anger from the lies turned into pain over losing who I thought he was. While he can be the most gentle caring person, his other behavior is too familiar of that toxic marriage. I think back when he immediately moved on with another girl during one of our breakups… “Tell me you will take me back and I’m yours, she’s not you”. “She’s sitting 5 feet from me now and I’m sitting here texting you how much I love you, tell me that doesn’t tell you where my head is, it’s on you”. He sent me a hot photo of us together when the sex was our shared drug, telling me “I still watch and touch myself to you at all times!” She was sitting with him and he was saying this to me, looking at our pictures right across from her. He didn’t care that she was with him, he repeatedly claimed “Jesus fuck I only want you!”.

So much has happened since then, but one thing has always been.

I miss him.

I saw him as my best friend so foolishly I keep trying to continue our friendship. And at first he’s back to funny meme’s and inside jokes, letting me vent. Messages when I wake up, all day long until I fall asleep. Again telling him “dude get to work!”. But he quickly comes out of nowhere for sex. And yes a part of me wants that, but it’s dangerous. This time was so clear.

He only wanted sex.

It only took a few days this time. He had no interest in our friendship. I’ve held him up on a pedestal before thinking he was genuine, just a mess and who am I to not sympathize considering my life is the definition of being a work in progress. But now the crushing blow of truth – he is no different and my ex was at least partly right.

Digging deep

I am going to start EMDR with my therapist. At this point I’ll try anything to heal the deep wounds this life has given me. I want to finally eliminate my PTSD, anxiety, and depression. The weight it gives me leaves me afraid of interacting with the world. I’m trying to weaken the wall I think protects me by going around people more and getting out of the house, making memories… but honestly it’s a forced effort.

EMDR didn’t start yet because I had things on my mind. Fears of what memories I thought would come up with EMDR. I also felt she has no clue what skeletons I’ve got buried away so I decided to introduce her to my dungeon.

I knew I needed to tell her a summary of the darkness I’ve survived. So I tried to start telling her and immediately pulled my hands into my sleeves in an effort to hide. Before I could start the words I took my hands, which were curled into my dark grey long sleeves, covered my face and sobbed for about 45 seconds. Why did I want to hide? To disappear? I was about to open a locked door to another place that left me feeling damaged, broken, embarrassed, dirty and dysfunctional. A place I refused to visit because I decided long ago I didn’t want to be that person anymore. Even in the safety of therapy with a professional just thinking of the first image and knowing how that paved the way to the chaos I call my life, it made me ashamed and god the emotions that flooded my body were so fucking painful. At that moment I wanted to be invisible. I couldn’t look at her face, I’ve seen the reaction too many times and seeing on someone else’s face how awful my story is, well it’s probably more painful than the story itself. Why? Because my normal is not normal, it’s painfully sad.

I finally put my hands down and sat quiet, staring at my shoe for a moment before I could say the words. I’m not sure I even said the word “molested” or just stopped and left silence where that word should have been said. “When I was a little girl…. my brother….(tears welling up in my eyes)..I have memories of moments frozen in my mind, they’ve always been there…” I was molested by my brother when I was 5 years old-he would have been 9, which lasted for years until I finally said no more when I was about 8. I remember feeling relieved he wasn’t mad at me, even then all I wanted was his acceptance. Then catching my brother move onto my then 3-4 year old sister and the fucked up feelings it gave that 8 year old girl. Probably my first feeling of being easily replaced and rejected by a male and the jealousy that followed. This is something that took years for me to acknowledge to myself but never said to anyone until tonight. “It’s normal to feel that way” she said. “Nothing about this situation is normal” I replied clinging to my kleenex blotting my eyes.

I talked about my brother getting suicidal and being placed in a psych hospital when he was 12 or 13, where he lived for a year. During that time he was going through a court trial to testify against the man who did that to him. I didn’t see my brother during this time, I don’t think any of us did. At this point my family went from 6 kids down to 2. My (step)dad’s oldest 2 boys from a previous marriage left along with my 2 older brothers from my mom and my biological father. My mom and dad split up again so then it went to just me, my little sister and my mom-who had understandably lost her mind in this process.

My parents would fight, knock out drag out fights. Police were called, dad would get kicked out, then me, my mom and sister would move somewhere cheaper. Life made no sense until mom and dad reconciled. Then things were beautiful. Mom and dad were happy, no fighting. Life became calm during this time. But it was always short lived. This taught me about relationships. A rollercoaster ride of emotions but sometimes very happy.

This brought me to discussing my relationships. At 15 I moved in with my boyfriend and 3 years later was pregnant, at which point he changed his mind about me. He locked himself in the bathroom, called my parents to come “take me back” and threatened suicide. So here I was at 18 moving back home, pregnant with twins, alone and rejected.

Fast forward.. awful marriage to a different guy. I told about a time we were split up and in a heated argument about him with another woman when he punched me in the mouth breaking my teeth, bruising my jaw for all the world to see that I was an abused wife. I remember my mouth filled with dust which was my teeth. How it was probably just a few short months before I took him back. Why? Because the violence was normal to me and I knew when we got back to us it would be beautiful like my parents. Even if that didn’t last, I needed the temporary beauty. This relationship was so fucking abusive in every fucking way possible.

After that me and my 3 kids lived alone, no men, no dating. Just mom focusing on the kids, healing and surviving. We moved away not only from our home, but the entire area and schools. I created a completely different life and eventually we seperated ourselves from that part of our life. We lived in hiding, registered with a federal address confidentiality program. In 6 years we moved 5 times. It took years to stop seeing myself as broken and abused. So many battles and I won them all. We were in therapy for 3 years dealing with the trauma we survived from my exhusband. My daughter initially the focus as a result of sexual abuse. Then the next several years my son with uncontrollable behaviors. Behavior modification, therapy, outpatient treatment, medication, medication and more medication until we admitted him at 8 into the psych unit at a hospital. Eventually finding out his near deadly birth caused damage to his brain and resulted in a rare form of Rolandic epilepsy among other medical issues. I battled the doctors to help him, battled the school to give him a fighting chance. Then I lost my job of 12 years- this was crippling. My co-workers were my family and stability. And days later found out my other daughter had a brain tumor. Literally fml.

I lost myself completely in this process. I’m ashamed to admit I broke down and let my exhusband creep his way back for a moment. I had no one. Life was against me and I just needed to feel love, even if it wasn’t real and was dangerous. My daughter set a boundary for herself and moved out. I’ve never told her how proud I am of her for that. Or how fucking hard that had to be for her. At the time I was so lost I didn’t see it, I just felt rejection and I lost my fucking mind.

Of course the devil, aka my exhusband, just brought back the chaos and dysfunction to our life. He was great at first but it didn’t take long. Then the reality of what I did sank in, the shame, rejection.. and in that I wanted to die. It became a normal thing for me to sit on the couch, drink vodka and down my xanax while sobbing myself to sleep. Wake up, go to work and do it again when I got home. One night I swallowed so many fucking pills, anything I had with my vodka. My intent was to go to sleep and never wake up but I woke up several hours later.

In April 2015 I stopped drinking. I stopped xanax and started working on getting myself back. I met Bud that September. He was such a broken soul but I saw his beauty through it. I fell head over heels but it was such a fucking rollercoaster with his battles with his demons. My thought was “I can’t judge someone that’s broken, look at me”… What I should have focused on was he wasn’t just a broken soul. Yes, I was broken because my life was one tragedy after another, yet I still was self sufficient, provided for myself and my family more than the basics. His life was broken because of himself but that wasn’t the story he told. His ex-wife was poison and he sacrificed everything for her and their kids, that’s why at 35 he lived in his parents basement and didn’t have a vehicle. The truth? Not even close but he fooled me for a very long time. I’m seeing he is not even close to the great person I thought he was capable of being. He was just another tragic chapter in my chaotic life. Another life lesson.

Now I sit here at 41 years old crawling out of this emotional dungeon clawing to find my stability.

Loving you had consequences

By Camila Cabello

But literally perfect words for me and my temporary loss of sanity.

I hate you for breaking me.

I hate you.

I hate you for for always falling.

I hate you for making me believe.

I hate you for making me trust.

I hate you for failing.

I hate you for leaving.

I hate you for hurting me.

I hate you for using me.

I hate you for taking advantage of my love.

I hate you for not really loving me.

I hate you for painting me as a bad person.

I hate you for lying.

I hate you for manipulating me.

I hate you for not being there for me anymore.

I hate you for crying on my shoulder when you couldn’t let me do the same.

I hate you for forcing yourself inside my body while I begged you to stop.

I hate you for using my body to ease your broken ego because of some random.

I hate you for not seeing me crying while you moaned in pleasure.

I hate you for replaying that image in my mind 100 times a day.

I hate you for the lies you said to make it ok.

I hate you for not feeling guilt or remorse for what you did that night and what it did to me.

I hate you for repeatedly playing with my head while I was healing my heart.

I hate you for making me believe there was hope.

I hate you for repeatedly bailing to give me closure.

I hate you for reminding me what a broken, unlovable piece of trash I am.

I hate you for awakening those memories of my marriage and how damaged it made me.

I hate you for his words I now hear again inside my head and how much they tear me down.

I hate you for taking my power, my strength.

I hate you for stealing my heart.

I hate you for making me shut down.

I hate you for making me want to die.

I hate you for letting me go.

I hate you for hating me.

I hate you for breaking me.

Mostly, I hate you for making me love you.

Lost in my emptiness

Patience – still a goal

Temper – still a fear

Frustration – growing

Embarrassment – from losing my strength

Shame – from being naive with him

Used – as a toy

Worthless – unworthy

Broken – where did my strength go

Unimportant – I don’t matter

Loss – summary of this year

Grief – result of loss

Lost in my emptiness

A rough few days

My words aren’t there today. My mind is blank and my heart is hurting. Damn winter is here. My house is full but my soul is empty.

I keep hoping for a miracle that will never happen. I hate when it’s time to see someone through clear glasses. The raw, brutal truth of who they are now. Letting go of what they were and what you shared. Accepting what is now, the present. What was is no more.

Previous Older Entries