Sensible. Light. Reflection. Part B

This is Part B of my reflection, after the darkness had lifted I found the truth and expanded on it.



Oh the Humanity.

Never in a million years did I think I’d be here. The one once known as the “good little Christian girl” sitting in the doctors room, naked from the waist down, waiting for my nurse to come examine my vagina because….well…I had sex with my boyfriend. I did it. And I liked it. Oh. I liked it very much. But the irony is the freedom. To feel unembarrassed about the situation. To be unashamed of the inconvenient consequences of my actions. To not deride myself for my decisions like I used to.

My Ex squeezed my personality into something meek. Something, that is definitely not the frank, blunt, wacky, zany, just plain weird, and yet loyal and considerate person I believe myself to be. I’m a bit of a social blunter. Sometimes I do it for the chaos, for the satire of poking the thin vinyl wall of the balloon that encases all the hot air of social convention. My curiosity rarely goes far enough to really hurt people for the sake of experimentation, but over all I’m quite strange. Quite curious. I know it. I enjoy it. But the darkness consumes my thoughts far less than they used to.

I’m happy. I’m starting to learn about balance. About peace with myself. That’s not to say I feel like I have control all the time, or I should. But just that I don’t want my bad experiences to haunt me and I don’t need the bad self deprecating habits to flourish. I’m working on sloughing the old ways of thinking away. My thoughts can hurt me. My perceptions matter. And I’m still figuring things out. But I’ve learned to recognize depression and PMS and I’ve learned to try to diminish and trivialize the thoughts that tend to flood my consciousness during that time. It sucks, feeling like I have to grab my bags and run during a day or two. But it’s better to get away, to a calmer place. Not totally out of life, I still have school. But away from my boyfriend. Giving distance and space to clear my thoughts and not potentially hurt him with paranoid lashings.

I think the thing that hurts the most now, is not the past, is not memories or negative thoughts. But the fact that he expects an emotional meltdown. He has chosen to not let it surprise him. To assume that it will happen. But I assumed I was fine. I assumed that once the memories were gone and the emotional bitterness had subsided that I would no longer be damaged. But when I cry during sex twice in one week, we both know. We both know things aren’t okay.

And I apologize to him honestly I feel more sorry for him than myself. It’s not that shaking to me. It rattles me for a while, that’s why I cry. But often I can recognize the trigger and work through it. I can self evaluate my progress. He on the other hand, has no warning. I feel like I have given him a hesitation and a fear. A light tread.

It’s funny because I wonder how healthy this is. Back in the day (and still sometimes now) I had thoughts of acting a certain way in a relationship to not be a burden to my partner. Now this idea is fine in theory. I didn’t want to be high maintenance, I didn’t want to be clingy or annoying.  But as I tried to BE these things I gave up what I wanted and needed. I became a door mat. I lessened myself and my worth in attempts to be humble. This is fine in THEORY, because in theory your partner is just as selfless and kind as you and won’t take advantage of that. But with my ex it wasn’t the case. My ex was a pusher. I was a pushover.

So now in a new relationship I realize, the partner is new, but the behavior is old. And that, frankly, needs to change. It’s not going to be about being an ideal. I just want to be me. And I will be the me that is kind and considerate and caring. But not meek, and sensitive, and unsure. 

Hopeless. Dark. Paranoid. Part A

This is the first part of my recent reflection of my life. Written in despair. Foiled by Part B....

How can we teach women to love themselves? How can we fight that resentment we will ultimately face when we go through a relationship that spirals due to our very nature. The nature of irrational emotion, the nature of poor decisions, indecision, regret of decision, hating our very selves for feelings, thoughts, paranoia that we feel is so far from our control. How do we fight a control freak nature when the world makes us feel helpless? We fear our emotion. We feel pain. We fear our femininity. We want to be more like men.

How can we love ourselves when our Exes were abusive and our minds were clouded and our feelings numb…..yet we felt the same fear and longing and paranoia in a relationship with a great guy.  How can we love ourselves when he is too good to be true, and we don’t feel worthy and we still feel unsure that we are loved and we still feel like he is annoyed by us or doesn’t want us around or thinks we are too hyper or too crazy? When we break as many promises now as we did to ourselves then. When we resign to what we think will make him happy. When we devalue ourselves. When we don’t give ourselves an opinion. When we are ashamed to feel.

When a guy is so perfect and we feel so pathetic and so unworthy that we pick and pick off flakes of gold on his perfect personality until we find what is underneath. When we find a human being under the statue, there isn’t a sigh of relief. It’s fear. Its uncertainty. If he isn’t perfect, he can be angry, annoyed, ashamed, embarrassed, scared. Of me.

A friend once told me that I didn’t have to eat the fast food just because I bought it. If the burger was gross I had the right to throw it away. Forget about kids in Africa. You paid for the RIGHT to eat as well as the actual material food. Once you pay you can ultimately decide whether to eat it or not. You can take as many bites as you like and if you feel full, stop. Don’t force yourself to feel obligated.

But I did. I felt like I SHOULD and obligation became an idol. Like I should follow through. Like it was the right thing. Like it was too late to turn back. And I hated myself for thinking that way and I knew it was wrong. But it carried over. And it didn’t just go away. I may have forgot about him and the scars were not his signature. They were MINE. I cut myself. I HURT MYSELF.

When it felt like we talked so much and we were so open and I felt so free and comfortable…. yet we didn’t talk enough? What wasn’t being communicated? The problem was hidden.  There are still things hidden. Maybe not consciously.

I prayed for the blood. I wanted it to excuse this behavior. I hate myself and I want the blood to say “it’s not you, it’s me” How can I love myself when I feel so broken and I can’t say sorry enough? When I don’t want you near me. Being self destructive seems so romantic. The idea of going out.  Not caring about you. It’s so much work to care. When I rely so much on the next text message. I’m crazy. I’m crazy. I can’t do this. I’m not capable. I’m not different. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t you. It was me. It was me.

And I text you: “My period will come and go and I will be dandy as a daisy. Unless you are as bad as the last guy I don’t think I’ll need counseling. If I do then fuck, it really was all my fault.”

And Oh my God. You are scared of me. You are thinking. “Oh My God. I picked the most psycho chick in the bunch. How did I not see it coming?” You are scared of me. And I am so ashamed.

And I’m going to look back on this and realize it’s all lies. But….I’m not going to care, because I’m just going to hate myself for even THINKING it in the first place. I’m going to hate myself, even if it’s not true, BECAUSE it wasn’t true.