Hope

I've struggled to write because I see I'm repeating the same old things. I went into my closet, of things I don't want to deal with, and found a box of many old journals. Most were about 10 years old and they all said the same things: sad about my marriage, feeling hopeless, some sort of focus on my weight, and wishing for a different life. Year after year it was the same thing. I stopped writing as I was boring myself.

Looking for the truth of this moment. Because every moment like every breath is new. Good, bad, or otherwise there has to be even the smallest of shifts. Right now, while going into year two of the worst time of my life, I realized that giving up isn't an option. And I want to give up. I don't want to go on right now. As I said in a previous post, the pain feels like being burned alive. To add to it more keeps going wrong and it compounds all the feelings. Every day the spiral gets worse. I'm punchy, on the edge of tears, not wanting to be around friends, using, plummeting. But I can't give up. I can't.

It's so hard not to ask what it is about me that I can't just have an even and peaceful existence. Flat tire, layoff, maybe some fraud, but not forever processing some fucked up moment from the past. It's exhausting. I see why it exhausts those around me. It's why I will shut up and not tell anyone what is happening because I'm just so fucking sick of the shame of being me.

I've lost count of all the plans and aspirations I've had over the past months to try to get my mind back in working order. Didn't go over a week with any of them, and most didn't even make it past the 24 hour mark. Is it just cracked? Is this one of those mind benders you don't come back from? Again, my arch nemesis of hope tries to sneak in.

Hope is terrifying to me. Hope has always let me down. Hope hurts me. Yet it's really all I have left right now. 

Rewiring My Brain

I lost my mind recently, quite literally, and have been trying to claw my way back to some form of sanity. Have I ever in my entire life been mentally stable? Is this even something achievable for me? You would be hard pressed to find a self-help book I haven't tried, over 30 years of therapy, and so much medication (prescribed and self-administered). I'm weary from all the effort and wary of the latest miracle cure. Yet I'm always resilient, even when I'd rather give up, and I've given up many times.

I've had a lot of critique in my lifetime about my bad attitude. It's true that I'm fatalist and pessimistic. My trauma says you aren't going to survive if you hope too hard. Hope gets you hurt and disappointed. I'm rolling through my head of all the times I thought maybe, just this once, things would work out, and they were demolished before my eyes. When I was in Christianity I'd be shamed, "Well did you really believe? You have to really believe." I believed to the level my mind would allow based on past experience. 41 years of a silent God left me abandoned and hurt. It was familiar. 

I've tried positive affirmations each morning. Gratitude lists. Crystals in my bra. Setting intentions under the moon. And I feel like the universe, some deity, energy, just hates me. I work hard. I try. I try again. And not to say that I've never had anything good, but those deep neural pathways in my brain always say...get ready because you're about to lose it all. 

Instead of living off hopes and wishes, I'm looking to science to override my entire belief system of who I am and what is possible. Basically, I'm climbing Mount Everest barefoot and alone. I went to hypnotherapy to try and get past my negativity towards myself and access a deeper level in my mind. I listen to an audio tape for me every night as I go to sleep. I will say the crying fits have mostly stopped, but the old beliefs of lack, scarcity and sorrow loom large overhead. 

I've recently been hearing about quantum manifestation from varied sources. When the same thing is being shown to me over and over I do take note. 

Quantum manifestation is the concept that our thoughts and intentions can influence the quantum field, allowing us to create our desired reality through focused energy and consciousness. 

Can I do this while not really believing it? Or are we back to the theory that if you don't believe then it's your fault when nothing works out? I do believe in the brain's neuroplasticity to rewire and restructure. I believe in my own tenacity and resilience. I believe speaking your truth really does set you free.

I'm trying.

I Dropped My Basket

Though a recently posted about feeling better, and some fog lifting, the full truth is that the past year for me has been one of the darkest of my life.  "I dropped my basket" is an old southern saying that basically means you lost your mind. I dropped my basket. I have a long line of mental illness in my family, both diagnosed and others that could use a diagnosis. I tend to lean towards my mother's side of the family in most things and most of the women lose their minds at some point. Though we'll never fully know how much was from abuse and trauma, and how much is their chemistry. I've lived my entire life fearing the day it happens to me, and there have been many moments in my life where clinically it likely did. I'm processing if this latest episode has been the worst of them all. 

At 16 I had suicidal ideation. It started before then but this was the time where I was planning to die. It's a story I sometimes joke about as I was getting so high all the time I forgot my death date which I'd meticulously planned. I was furious and decided I couldn't kill myself until I found what I considered the perfect date. I may have slight perfectionism issues alongside the crazy.

In my 20's I found out I was sexually abused as a child. I'd always suspected it, and I mentally collapsed hard over the discovery. There was a secondary discovery, with more evidence, in my 30's and it nearly paralyzed me. This compounded with depression kept me in a constant state of sorrow. Medication, therapy, medication, therapy, nothing, everything, and I just gave up. 

These are some of the bigger instances but it's really a lifetime of them. The first entry in my diary was "I'm fat". I was 6 years old. I learned to stuff the feelings down and not bother crying as it felt like no one cared anyway. My mother once said, "If you keep refusing to cry, one day you'll start, and it won't stop." That is what has happened. 

In a matter of a few months my precious kitty died, and I had to be the one to decide to euthanize quickly, I was let go from the job I'd loved for 7 years, and I lost who I felt was the love of my life. I don't say this flippantly or to be funny...I had a mental health break. For whatever reason I'm able to be functional while hanging from the edge of the cliff. I'm grateful I can do this, yet it also leaves me in a state of never being real. I tried to tell people, alluded more than fully disclosing, and that's met with cliches and brush offs. And I understand this as it's painful to sit with someone who is falling apart and there isn't a good answer as to what to do. "Things can only get better!" They got worse. 

While smiling in pictures, and laughing in a crowd, I come home every single night and collapse to the floor sobbing. Sometimes I can barely make it to my car. I'm told "let it out", yet this is over a year, this is a lifetime, my issues aren't that I just need a good cry. I can't stop crying. While not planning as I'd done in the past, and I won't do anything because of my son and cats, it's a rare day that I don't have a fantasy of dying. 

I want to be delicate here, as I know people who have lost someone to suicide, but I also want to share how we feel and why there aren't easy answers for anyone. What it feels like for me is being on fire with a pain so intense you can't think and your only thought is I need this agony to end. Then well-meaning people, ones that truly love and care for you, are on the side saying "Hang on! It will get better!" and all these other feel-good lines which may or may not happen. All while the flames hurt so much, and intensify, so you do everything you can to numb it with anything no matter how destructive. Drugs, alcohol, sex, behaviors, rage. You know you'd hurt so many people to choose to die, all while you can't take another moment. 

A dear friend bought me a hypnotherapy session as I'm unemployed (no benefits) and she could see I was getting progressively worse. I feel better. Still crying but it has lessened, and I don't feel on the edge of it at all times. I'm not happy, I'm sad beyond words, but I feel like trying again. 

I don't have a way to tie this up with a cute ribbon, and smugly positive quote. I also don't want pity. This isn't writing about being a victim, but a disclosure about my silences and destructive behaviors. For those that care about me and have tolerated this, thank you. 

Before and After

I went to bed sober last night. I didn't want to be sober. I didn't want to feel anything. I numb myself so I don't have to experience the pain. Yes, I know that feeling it all is the only way to the other side. I've certainly read enough self-help books, been through enough therapy, and watched enjoy positivity reels to know what needs to be done. The fear is that during this process I won't actually make it out. When I'm not wasted, I'm holding back tears. I hate who I've become. I've lost myself. The losses I experienced last year pummeled me in a way no one really knew about. I'm great at posting smiling pics of me having fun and not talking about what happens when I shut my door, alone, and the darkness starts to take over. 

I've done things this year that no one knew about. Told a few people a little bit, but no one everything. Kept it from some of the people who are closest and dearest to me as I was just too ashamed to admit it. I knew the consequences were detrimental to me but at the core of it all I just didn't care. I felt I'd lost so much, and I couldn't bear the weight of it, so I started to destroy myself. While not actively trying to take myself out, there was a part of me that sometimes hoped something would happen so I wouldn't be forced to go on. 
______________________________________________________

I started this post 5 days ago. Started to write it but it got too dark, and I didn't want to think about it much less write it for others to read...and judge. Waking up each day and doing what needs to be done, while feeling like I was moving through thickness and a fog. The days were going by much too fast and yet I felt immobilized. 

Then last night happened. I believe I had the breakthrough I've been looking for my entire life.

I was at a concert I was excited for yet there was going to be someone there I didn't want to run into. Someone that hurt me deeply. Someone I still loved though no one understood why. The full moon energy felt chaotic, and I was on the edge of tipping over. I went with a friend I hadn't seen in a while and before we left I unleashed all that had happened to me in the nearly 2 years since we'd really talked. She saw me. She listened without judgement. She gave me confirmation that though many of my actions were confusing and destructive, they were also understandable coming from my history. She gave me the space that all decisions were mine and she would back and support anything I chose. I calmed. 

I felt his energy before I saw him. Random other fears started popping up in my mind: I think I left a candle burning, where are my keys, did I eat too much sugar today, is he looking at me? I've had an anxiety disorder long enough to know this is a trauma response as my mind feel out of control and is trying to stabilize. Took a hit off my weed vape and did some yogic breathing. The show was amazing and both bands had songs with the very specific lyrics I needed to hear. 

"I did all I could

So kiss this one more time
 'Cause I'm gone for good"

Was it the experience of being there? Was it being able to scream sing those words out knowing he would possibly see me, and perhaps energetically feel it? Was it just a cathartic release for me?

It was more than that. I couldn't sleep when I got home. I felt peace that I'd never felt. Calm yet wired and determined. 

"Wrapped in your regret
What a waste of blood and sweat...
I don't wanna take my time
Don't wanna waste one line
I wanna live better days
Never look back and say
Could have been me
It would have been me..."

I started this blog (I know, how early 2000s, but it's a place to dump this shit) 7 years ago to stop being small and no longer tone it down. But I allowed myself not fade, I let opinions of those I loved tear me down, I stop caring about my voice. 5 days ago I was hopeless.

Well I'm back. Clock is ticking and I'm about to make up for lost time. 

I don't cry

I don't cry. Or I should say I hate to cry. And the worst of all for me is having anyone see me cry. If you saw me cry you saw me at my most broken as I could no longer hold it down the way I skillfully do. My never cry policy isn't working for me these days. In the past months I've sobbed regularly, and people saw me cry. So many people. The shame of it is overwhelming at times.

I've also wiped tears right in front of you and you never knew.

Now do I have an issue with you crying? Not at all. I care. I want to help. But for me to cry, in front of you, is truly the lowest I can feel. I was asking myself if I saw it as weak, as I did for some time, but it's not that anymore. I see it as a moment for you to see my weakness and that makes me fearful that it will be used against me. It's not logical. I do know and believe that if one of my friends saw me cry they wouldn't think less of me. Yet I think less of me.

I've had some spectacularly embarrassing cries recently. Not a broken a bone or somebody died cry, as those are allowed. One of those cries of extreme vulnerability and insecurity with a big ass spotlight showing every scar. The kind of cry you witness where you feel pity for the person but thank all the Gods you aren't them either. 

Shame is a theme here. It's that feeling that you are the only one, no one else is feeling this, and you should feel awful that you do and can't stop. But "we heal loudly so others don't die in silence". This is why I share my most painful secrets. I believe that saying it out loud is the key to getting to the other side. I know I'm not the only one. Maybe one day we can cry together, and the shame will go away.

Don't Blink

Life has been dark lately. Without wanting to say the words that will trigger and upset, I've been spiraling downward without sight of any light. There is so much shame associated with not being OK mentally. We're given cute little sayings of what we're supposed to do; "you just gotta....". I've said for ages that I could make a zillion dollars if someone would just show me how to "just gotta...". When someone is drowning like this it's not that they don't see the truth, it's that they don't have the ability to pull out of going down the hole. 

When someone hasn't experienced this they get annoyed quickly when you don't just snap out of it. They feel you aren't trying. That you enjoy being a victim. The way I like to explain it is if I'm about to poke my finger in your eye and keep saying "don't blink". You blink. I say again while nearly poking you "I said not to blink. Why are you blinking? All you have to do is not blink!" It's instinctive. We are likely trying more than you could ever conceive.

I know I'm incredibly privileged. I have many things to be thankful for. Yet as the Moving Pictures song said, "I guess I'm lucky, I smile a lot, but sometimes I wish for more than I've got". I suppose we all do. Yet when you are tumbling into darkness all the good doesn't matter. What isn't working for you, what you aspire to and don't get, what you long for that never happens, these things are all illuminated to the point of blinding you to all else. 

I haven't been able to see lately.

I've struggled with this for as long as I can remember. 30+ years of therapy, life coaches, self-help books, affirmations, positive sayings, manifesting, drugs both medical and illegal, good vibes, magic....but it's not enough. The shame for these feelings is overwhelming as I have so many people in my life who deeply care about me, support me, and believe in me. So why isn't this enough for me?

Speaking as a therapist, which I'm not but I've had enough therapy, and did enough work that they should give me an honorary degree, I feel strongly that I've created decades of deep neural pathways that say life will never work out and when you hope it is always taken away from you. And I had the receipts to prove this was correct. The logic then is to create a new neural pathway that is the opposite of these things. Believe life will work out for you. Allow yourself hope.

Yet what do you do when you finally, with so much fear, take that risk and believe, only to have it obliterated before your eyes? How do you then believe there is any hope in trying again? Or at all?

This is not to say nothing is going right in my life. My creative ventures are soaring, I'm mostly healthy, I have community, I'm privileged beyond measure in so many ways. This adds to the desire to hide and not say what's going on because "You are so blessed and need to STFU." You're right and my feelings haven't changed.

I'm processing a lot right now. Most of this processing is from a relationship that broke my heart and forced me to go no contact with this person. I read an article last night saying this: No one talks about how "No Contact" can retraumatize people with anxious attachment. Everyone says, "Just cut them off. Go No Contact. Heal." But no one talks about what happens after. The panic. The urge to reach out - just to feel seen. The late-night texts you swore you wouldn't send. The shame when you check their socials - again. The voice in your head whispering "You weren't enough. That's why they left." Because when you've spent your life begging to feel chosen, silence doesn't feel like peace. It feels like rejection. It feels like abandonment - all over again."

Though I was the one that left, every word of this rings true. I know I'm holding on because to let this go means to take away all I ever had. The pain is overtaking me.

By all appearances it seems I'm wallowing in self-pity, and I'm wallowing for sure, but I'm still trying. The reset plan is in place. I've already failed twice, but I know I'm all I have and this is the only way to find some happiness and suck up this shit life. I'm resilient and have come back from so much worse. I wake up every morning crying but there is a small spark left trying to grow into a flame. 

I've bought an app that is backed by science to rewire the brain. 3 months. Stay tuned to see what happens... (picture of my initial assessment) 

No Safety Net

Old science said it took 21 days to create a new habit. Newer data shows it actually takes around 66 days. I was completely off on both of these dates and thought it was 30 days to get a new habit sealed in or break an old one. I need a reset. I've spent the last 11 months in a personal hell I didn't talk much about. Much of the pain I ran towards. Loss after loss took me out. It's been a long time since I've felt this beaten down but I'm wiping tears and reminding myself I don't have a back up plan, it's all on me, and there's no safety net.

Trying to reclaim my story and not fear my voice anymore. I spoke months ago about losing my voice, then attempted to write again. And after working, trying, and pushing, I lost it once again. I believed those that criticized me must be right, as these were people who at one time said they loved me, and they wouldn't purposefully hurt me. Yet they did.

I've given myself a 30 day challenge to write and post every single day, as a means to ignore the critics, both real and in my head, and say it. As much as I appear to be someone telling all, I hide so much as in my past hiding brought safety. If others didn't know then they couldn't hurt you with their remarks and opinions, likely about something they have never experienced but felt they had so much wisdom on. Yes, I'm bitter.  I have ideas, thoughts, and truths I want to talk about and I find I'm immobilized. Resetting. Forcing my way back to me. 

Last night I saw my old therapist playing in a band. I didn't initially recognize her as it was in such a different context that my brain wasn't putting the pieces together. I realized it was her but only told a few people as there are aspects to the therapy she does that would reveal more about me than I want to share at this time. When I saw her it reminded me of the hiding days. A time when I couldn't trust anyone, as I was Evangelical Christian, and any problems I had were to be prayed away. So I lived in shame and told no one. And the prayers didn't work.

"We heal loudly so others don't die in silence." 

I've been shamed, criticized, and cut down for sharing all that I do. I've been told I lean into being a victim. I've been told doing this is embarassing myself.

I've also been told I say things others have waited their entire life to hear but I was the first person to say it. I've been told that I've helped people get help, get into therapy, and speak out, because I didn't hide it. I've been told my voice is needed, and even if it's not, I need to do this.

It's certainly a delicate line between being openly vulnerable, telling the truth to heal, and feeling sorry for yourself. I walk that line like a tightrope artist. And there's no safety net.

8 Years and a 30th Anniversary

I know what I want to say but the words are failing me. Or I'm failing me. Today would have been my 30th wedding anniversary. The pain of the actual divorce is long past, he is engaged, and I'm genuinely happy for him. Yesterday was the 8-year anniversary buying my condo and living completely alone for the first time. Dates mean a lot to me; when I recall them, and when I forget them, it gives me information as to where my mind is at. 

In the 8 years since the divorce I've remembered my wedding date maybe 3 times. The 25th anniversary was brutal as I realized this was something I'll never experience. Others came and went without a trigger or notice. It was just days ago that I noticed the date was coming up and then realized it would have been 30 years. The kind of anniversary you have a party to celebrate the achievement, and everyone is impressed and asks you what your secret is. Again, something I will never experience.

To meet me today is to be unrecognizable to the woman who moved into this place 8 years ago. My growth game is strong. When I moved in I was terrified and found myself shaking under a thin blanket that didn't even cover my toes, on my couch as I had left the bed behind. It took me over a year to paint a wall as I was used to years of disagreeing on such things, and forgetting I was the only decision maker now. Where my growth game is weak is the relationships along the way.

When I first divorced, I didn't even consider dating. My only focus was to get out. I can't even count the number of first dates I went on. Most were boring and terrible. I look back at some of the people and wouldn't dream of attempting a conversation with them today. Only 2 made it to a level of us being called a couple and they both destroyed me in different ways. 

I've noticed a pattern where I go back to what is hurting me because there was something I loved, and I wanted one more moment even if it broke me more in the end. There is a part of me that will override the need for emotional safety, and plunge forward not caring about consequences. If I go deep and ask myself why that is, my first thought is because most of the time I feel hopeless. 

I feel somber and a little numb on what would have been my 30th wedding anniversary. Another birthday looming in the distance saying the clock is ticking and you're wasting time. Feeling a mix of anxiety, immobility, and sadness. 

I went back to my favorite lake to burn the memories in order to calm the screaming in my head. Being former Evangelical Christian I love a ritual, and burning things gives me a release that "just letting it go" won't quite reach. Watching items go up in flames forces me to sit with the feelings that I'd rather shove down. When I hold onto things I find I'm really trying to hold onto another person. It's an energetic connection that keeps me from fully releasing them. 

I knew this burn would be emotionally difficult, yet I was dead set that I wanted it to happen on the anniversary day, and a rainstorm was coming so that kept me from procrastinating. Speed walking to the lake I watched as the clouds were rolling in quickly. I expected I'd get soaked on the way home, but my only concern was to get the burn going before the downpour.

When I'd burned my wedding dress there were a lot of people around while I watched what was once my dream incinerate before me. This time what few people were nearby immediately dispersed as I came up to the fire pit. Though I'd torn everything up the night before, I felt nauseated as the memories came back looking at the pieces as I ignited them. Instead of sitting back crying as I'd done before, I stood with my hands on my hips looking down at the fire, determined to finally let it all go.  

The smoke got thick and was blowing away from me. This felt hopeful, like a breath from the universe saying I was seen and what I was doing was what was best for me. I contemplated staying until every bit was burned to ash, but decided it was OK to walk away and not care about the outcome.

Walking home there was a gentle breeze and I found my breathing had regulated and was flowing at an even pace. About halfway there the rain started to come, first light and then a downpour. The wind was blowing everything sideways and I could barely see from moisturizer and old eyeliner burning my eyes. It felt like a painful baptism; an outward expression of inner transformation. Yet would I finally be free?

My road has been long, and absolutely none of my childhood hopes and dreams have come true, but I will continue to prove everyone wrong with my tenacity and resilience. There is freedom in this.

All I've ever had

Author's note: This is a personal reflection from a past relationship. Names/details changed.

I've recently become obsessed with online tarot readings. Do I actually believe? Not really. Yet there is something so hopeful in what they tell you. It makes me want to have a little faith when really there is none. My favorite reader is a gay Armenian who calls me cutie patootie and yummy peanut butter sandwich. He gives me a little dopamine hit when the darkness comes in hard.

These past months have been bleak. I've struggled to explain to people why I am still mourning and obsessing over a situation I left that was horrible for me. I see the truth of it, and there are no illusions of reconciliation or apologies, yet my mind couldn't let it go. I could feel the annoyance, and felt the shame, when I'd bring it all up time after time. I asked myself what it was I couldn't let go of and I finally figured it out.

This was all I've ever had. 

My ex-husband never gushed over me. Every card for every occasion said some version of "I know I don't say it but..." and then the writers of Hallmark would write a few nice things. He couldn't shut up but saying something affirming to me was the line he drew. Words are important to me, and I longed to hear something, anything, that said I was truly loved. What followed our marriage was a lot of awful dates, some brief periods with people I can't fathom even talking to now, a bad semi-relationship, and then him. 

He quickly figured out all I was starving to hear. He learned where I was desperate, needy, and weak, and presented himself as the miracle I never thought was possible. The entire relationship was built on a fantasy. It was volatile much sooner than I remembered. A brief moment that has left a deep wound, though slowly healing, is still painful and raw.

He got me with his words. He pushed until he broke me down enough to believe just maybe he loved me and was sincere. Discards came soon after, with intermittent reinforcement until the end. 

Yet I clung to the fantasy and the lies, as even with some of the most excruciating moments of my life, were great ones I'd never had. To let go of it, even though none of it was true, means I have never had anything. What I wanted so much had slipped right through my fingers and washed away as there was never actually anything to hold onto.

I spent months sobbing myself to sleep at night. Alcohol, weed, Valium I bought in Mexico, anything to stop feeling. Though I've finally been able to face my emotional storm, and feel more stable and in control, the voices of the past haunt me. 

While burning memories to release myself and the energy, I came upon a book he wrote in for my birthday. If I'd told anyone I would have been instructed not to read the words. But I wanted them. One last time. Because that's all I ever had.

The Chapter

Author's note: This is a personal reflection from a past relationship. Names/details changed.

“There are chapters in every life which are seldom read, and certainly not aloud.” ~ Carol Shields, The Stone Diaries

He wasn't supposed to be only a chapter, a start and a finish, I was convinced this was forever. I can talk about his charm, perfect words, and telling me he loved me within 2 days of meeting me, but the issue is not what he said but that I bought it. We met at an incredibly low point in my life. I'd given up on ever finding someone, after years of dating one wrong person after another, and never falling into what I so desired as everyone around me appeared to be doing. I was numb, acting like nothing mattered, but if you looked closely you could see I was cracking. No one was looking but he was. He became a Facebook friend after seeing my picture on other mutual friends pages. He watched me, saw what I was posting about relationships and being single, and decided to message me. He told me, maybe even on our first date or a message prior, that he could see I was insecure. All the red flags should have gone up but instead I internalized this even tried to think he cared, when he saw my face crumble and said, "but it's cute". This would go on to haunt me until the end.

Within 3 days we were at his pool and he turns to me and says "Want to do a life event on Facebook?" I didn't even know what that meant as I'd come onto Facebook married and hadn't had anyone I would call a relationship, much less one to be publicly announced. He said to change our status to in a relationship. The warning sirens were going off in my head, but I didn't want this moment to end. I didn't want conflict. Having a conversation that this was too soon would spoil my happy romantic moment, so I said yes. He was shocked at how many people liked and commented on the post of our relationship, and I explained I'd never done this so people were happy for me. I later learned this was how he rolled. He told me about a weekend in Duluth with whomever he was seeing (he loved to tell me details of his past lovers though I'd begged him repeatedly to please stop speaking of them) and how they were having such a great time and both said we should change our relationship status. My heart sunk as I realized this wasn't actually special to him at all and just what he did with women. I was alerted that he recently changed his page to saying he was in a relationship, no woman tagged, but just days later said it was over. Not special at all. It's just what he does.

We were a chapter with many starts and stops. It was a sick pattern of extreme blow ups, passionate makeups, all to repeat to the point of emotional exhaustion. This happened many more times than I ever told anyone, as sometimes being reunited only lasted a few days before the fight would begin again, so I stayed silent while stuffing down his words. He called me so many names and said I deserved them. Liar, fraud, fucking insane bitch, were his personal favorites. I walked on eggshells, keeping myself decently buzzed at all times to not show when his words hurt me, and to not acknowledge the truth of what was going on. 

I'm told he's created a new persona, likely to draw in another woman, of being religious and following "God". I'm so glad I was told as I see he's the fraud he claimed I was. It's finally so clear to me. And though I should hate him and be angry, I actually feel very sorry for him. What a sad and sick existence. 

I've started a new chapter. A chapter which doesn't include him. From here on out my chapters get read aloud.

What you deserve

Author's note: This is a personal reflection from a past relationship. Names/details changed.

It hit me suddenly as to why I can't let go of someone who deeply hurt me. Even though he said mean and terrible things to me, and about me, he also gave me moments I'd never experienced and so desperately longed for my entire life. He didn't love me but there were times he told me he did and it completely rewired my brain to keep attempting to get it back. 

My father didn't love me. Yes, we knew there were daddy issues here. He told me in many ways. Any love he felt for me was out of an obligation to being a parent, and to the God he worshiped, but he didn't love me as a person. I was told I was his least favorite child and he didn't like looking at me because I looked like my mother. I was hard for him to love and he felt a need to let me know this.

My ex husband was next. I do think he loved me briefly, when I was compliant and giving him what he wanted. That dissipated quickly. His actions were much louder than his words, and his words were rare. I wasn't never first in his life. Not even second place. I was a distant thought, an annoyance, and a paycheck. 

Then he came along and swept me off my feet. Said he loved me within days. Said I was perfect. One of my first journal entries after we met said. "I know by all standards it's too fast and I don't care. Yet there is this nagging thought that I'll care later." It was over a year of back and forth, epic fights with spectacular make ups. Though once he first discarded me it never got back to those first moments and my mind became laser focused on nothing but that. Called names, told everything was my fault, and I'm sure so much more behind my back. Yet I couldn't let go.

People like to say "you deserve so much more". Of course I do. We all do. Yet there is an implication that by being deserving you'll also get it. It's also said in a way that implies I don't believe I deserve it, and this is why it never happens. The parallels to my Evangelical upbringing "your prayers aren't being answered because you don't have enough faith" aren't lost on me. How exactly do you believe in this fairy tale magic when it's been shown over and over your entire life to never happen? I mean how could I not fall?

I love the poem by Louise Erdrich that talks about the search for love, the human condition, and that for some of us the effort is all we get. I can say this; my love was real, I did all I could, and I know none of this was my fault. Yet it's what I have to live with in this life.

“Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and being alone won't either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You have to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes too near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself that you tasted as many as you could.”

― Louise Erdrich, The Painted Drum

Tell her

Author's note: This is a personal reflection from a past relationship. Names/details changed.

In the end I could tell you'd stopped loving me by the way you fucked me. It was painful. But we were still so hot too. I could feel how you hated me. I'm such a masochist.

We burned so bright we burned out. Remember that lyric? Probably don't.

You wanted to discard me to hurt me. I saw you were on Tinder and didn't say anything. I'd walked by and saw the flame notification come up and my heart stopped. I'd never used your code to unlock your phone, wanted to, but I never did until that morning. I saw the message. She was blonde. I wiped tears and lied when you asked what was wrong. I later learned there were settings changed that kept me in the dark. Clever.

Even so, you won. You destroyed me. You broke me. This must delight you. You must be so happy for that. Probably in love again. I never felt that you really loved me and that's at the core of it all. I fell in love with you but didn't feel you actually loved me. Must have been entertaining to watch me love you and play with my mind. I haven't told anyone how deep it goes. How deep it hurts.

Have fun with whatever latest chick you have. And you always have someone. Call her pretty lady and study her carefully so you can tell her everything she's always wanted to hear. Tell her you could see she was insecure, and when she looks upset, say it's cute. Fuck with her a little to see how much she'll take. If you don't go too far, it will only be a little fight, with a passionate makeup, and then you can go back at it again. Cut her down while complimenting her to keep her off balance and longing for that next dopamine hit. Charm her while making her nervous. Tell her she's perfect, everything is perfect, and if she doesn't believe it then she'll ruin it all. 

It must be so good to be you. Above everyone. All knowing. All it takes is a smile and hey beauty and those weak insecure ones will fall all over it. It's so cute.

I felt you pulled me back for control. It was all a game for you and I'd come back because I loved you. But I'm not a victim. I did all of this willingly. I can only blame myself. My choice to keep longing for you while nothing was ever there.

When we were amazing, we were so amazing. Or maybe it was all in my head. I would have such ridiculous fantasies, especially at the casinos, and most of all in Vegas. Though you'd make sure to tell me before all occasions that I wasn't getting a ring. I knew I wasn't getting a ring but the need to level set expectations prior was a special blow. I pictured you winning big and saying we should get married. We'd buy expensive outfits or do Elvis and the showgirl like in Honeymoon in Vegas, and it would be fun and magical. Instead, I was told I was unlucky, not to pick any machines because when I did you didn't win, and why was I acting sad? 

I felt I would have never been able to please you. I couldn't exhale. If I let my breath out I'd have to accept you didn't love me. I stayed in a state of walking the balance beam wondering when I'd fall. We'd be having a wonderful time and then an accusation would come out of nowhere. Walking on eggshells kept my nervous system in continual panic. 

It felt like you despised me so much in the end, while on Tinder, while fucking me. 

I made coffee one morning and some grounds spilled all over. I'd swept and wiped but missed some. Of course. You started wiping up more and it felt like you couldn't stand me. Yet I stayed. 

I'm not your victim. I danced in the fire though I'm always burned. 

I wonder if we'll look back on our lives and think of each other. Or if it all will fade away like it never happened. I wonder if I'll smile thinking of the perfect moments, I'd always dreamed of but never thought would come true. Or if I'll feel deep sadness and shame that I didn't respect myself enough to stand up to you. 

Maybe some of us never heal. We do the work, we try so hard, but we never make it to the other side. Perhaps the effort just takes the weight off of the injury, like a crutch for your soul. I don't have much time left in life for lessons and nonsense. I'm building my crutch so I can at least go on. 

No one understands why I keep spiraling downward the more time goes by....

I will own my truth though. Even broken, destroyed, and beaten down, I always get back up.