Dear ______, Give Me Freedom.

I wrote this letter last night. I was hoping it would help. I was told it would be therapeutic. I can tell you I don’t really feel much from it. I could not picture him as I wrote this, I do not know why because I tried. It did not make me raw, or break down. I wanted that so bad. I wanted it out.

Maybe I’ll try again. This is the beginning of my letter to him. What am I missing? What is the key?


Dear FG,

I’m sitting here on my red couch, three days after Christmas, listening to Boys 2 Men and drinking wine. I currently own my own house and have taken many steps to grow up and be a different girl than I was with you. I have worked on developing my inner strength, my worth and my confidence.

The other day I saw you in the parking lot by Starbucks in Inglewood. Never has one moment been so devastating to me. In that split second of meeting your eyes, I lost everything I have worked so hard to build. A glimpse into your soulless eyes threw me back five to seven years ago. Now I find myself in an endless downward spiral with little to keep me in the moment.

I have once again let you control me, and you didn’t even have to say a word. I lost myself again. I am alienating my friends. I am staying holed up in my house. I am keeping silent on my pain, my past. I thought I was over you. Done with you.

But your damn eyes took me back. I now have to reclaim myself,. Over the years you have cost me an untold amount of friends and relationships for fear of those who got too close. I need that to stop. I have to move on.

Everything I see now, and feel or smell, reminds me of you and the hurt, pain, shame. A glint of light off a knife that another’s holding, my head on a pillow, a touch of the leg, a word, a parking lot, someone with your height, hair, nose or eyes. A place, a street, a song, a bottle, an unexpected picture, moment, person. Anything. A movie. A feeling. An erratic heartbeat. A voice.

I don’t want you to ever forget that I HATE YOU. I wish you pain with every moment the rest of your miserable life continues on for. I wish you loneliness. I wish you hatred. Fear. Everything I’ve gone through but for the rest of your life. I wish another woman never ends up with you. No one deserves it.

I hate you with every fiber of my being. Every breath I take. Every blink. Every drop of water on my skin. Every snowflake. Every waking moment. Every dream. Every restless night. I hate you.

I hate you for what you have cost me. For the secrets I have to keep. I hate you for making me afraid, for teaching me fear. I hate you for every minute we were together. For the innocence you stole from me. For taking my love of life. My trust in others. My pride. My sense of self worth. I hate you for leaving me broken. I hate you for everything I’m unable to think of or list at this exact moment.

I hate you for taking my sense of safety. I hate you for all the years I was unaware of this. I hate you for making me question my drinking. I hate you for causing me to consider if I am who I am because of you. I hate you for stealing me from myself.

I don’t want to be a PinkFawn created by FG. I want to be a PinkFawn who comes from a wonderfully loving family. Incredible friends, and self-realization that comes from an abuse-free past.

But the girl I am since I have seen you is not. Was I ever in these past five years?! I hate you. I wish I could look into your eyes and make you understand how deeply rooted my hate is for you. You blinded me with fake love. I don’t ever want you to do that to someone again.

Do you remember holding the knife against my throat and asking me if I was scared for my life? Can you recall throwing me naked against the wall again and again, when I was only saved from your abuse when your friend came home and found me naked, curled up in a ball and crying? What about the bruises? The hateful word and phrases; you’re an idiot, no one will ever love you again, you are lucky you have me, bitch, dumbass, stupid, immature, worthless, whore? How about the two broken doors? The slap?

Well, I cannot forget it. No matter how hard I try I can’t. I hate you for those memories and for making me feel empty and worthless again.

I walk around day in and day out, protecting who I am, putting on a front. When in reality I am an empty shell. One who feels dizzy and physically sick with the effort of this front. Exhausted, used, abused, broken. Always on the brink of giving up but assuring other and myself that I WILL get through this. I will overcome the terribly spiteful things you did to me. You, FG, are a worthless loser. Not me.

All those things I have done to you over the past five years, the email reminders, the Facebook altering, was to try to cause you some of the pain you inflicted on me.

Why did you choose me to abuse, say hateful things to and throw around? What was it about me you thought deserved it?

Why did I let you, and why does my heart stop when I think about our past?

Why can I now not get over you? Why did I let you cause me to have PTSD? Why can I not forgive you, even if the forgiveness if for myself? I hate you, in case you forget since the last time I wrote it.

I need to let you go, but these memories are alive within me. This hate has been ignited. It is like a glorious and devastating fire. I want my life back.

I let you cause me to fear men and the terrible, unconscionable things they are capable of. I want a successful relationship, one which lasts past six months because that is when you turned on me. I want a healthy life, with very minimal self doubt and loads of confidence and strength.

But I am scared, full of fear. I hate you.

There is so much more I should tell you about but I do not know where to end this tonight.

I hate you. I loathe you. I wish you pain. Your memories still scare me.


Dear God,

It’s me again. I am so far from where I could have been.

If you are real, out there and listening:
Please give me strength, forgiveness and freedom. Let me love freely. Love myself, love others.

God, don’t forget about me.

PinkFawn

Confession

I'm not loving life today.

I'm have realized I've changed the dynamic of quite a few friendships through these admissions. Those who I thought would be there for me haven't been, and those who I weren't sure would stick around have and in a much more invovled way.

Actually I am disappointed in two of you in particular. The aforementioned "you know who you are" and now another one of you. It's not like I need you, I'm not crying out for attention here. But you both claimed you're always (and I say this with dripping sarcasm) there for your friends. Pff, ha. Where are you now? I sure as shit haven't seen you.

I'm alone. I'm not. I keep going back and forth on whether or not I am valued as a friend by the both of you. Today, my not loving life day, I don't think I am.

I think, my apologies if I'm wrong, we're doing things together this holiday season because of habit. However, I've already kicked one major habit. What's not to say I should toss these one's out as well.

This confession/realization has made me feel ill. I'm back in the midst of all of this again.

Goodbye Holidays. Hello life...a shitty, until this is conquered, life.

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays.

I spent the last five days repressing everything and keeping it from my family. I have succeeded because I do not feel it again. It has still haunted me in my dreams, I have yet to sleep through the night but what can you do.

I need to get around to writing FG that cursed letter. I just do not want to face or own up to it. Subduing it is easier. Less painful…for a while.

The Christmas celebration was quite fun. Great company and food. Why ruin it with thinking about him? Maybe I should just let the holidays go on and I’ll attack all this again in the new year.

And as to You, and you KNOW who you are: What gives you the right to tell me what I should be feeling, and how I should be dealing with this? You’re an insensitive shithead. Oh but it’s not you, right? You constantly cross the line. Cry all you want over spilled milk, Wednesday was minor. I’m done with you. Don’t need your shit over and over. I don’t really care if I lose a ‘friend’ while I go through this, shows who you really are. I thought you had more substance, proved me wrong.

Kick yourself in the shin for me.

Graphics

Heartbreak Warfare (JM)

Today is a coma day. An I-wish-I-wasn’t-awake day. I do not believe I’ll make it through in one piece. I feel as if I could break right now, and putting on a front of happiness…well, I just couldn’t give a shit to carry through with that.

Last night was, by far, the most difficult for sleep yet. I may have got a couple hours in there. The rest was acute restlessness brought on by a fear of sleeping. I do not want to dream of FG anymore and see his face. I gave in last night to those fears, I’ll pay the price today.

I am angry at and about so many things. My annoyance with people has already shown in a few ways at work.

Life goes on, so for a lighter note: Happy Birthday PAL. I hope this next year brings you adventures you’ve yet to dream of.

Alice In Chains - I Stay Away

I think it’s easier if you just stayed away from me. The thing is, I really don’t want you to. I just believe it’d be simpler/better/healthier for you. This is painful, it’s rough, and I doubt myself all the time. You don’t deserve to ride it out with me.

Plus, I have to apologize a lot. Right?

I question if I’m using alcohol to keep the hurt tolerable. Okay, I question it now that you said it this morning. I am aware of my intake, I have to be because I think if I slip just a little bit and don’t pay attention I’ll wind up a drunk too. One thing at a time, though. I will not become an alcoholic. Last night was a celebration, a not-having-dinner, lay-it-on-the-table kind of night. It was a busy night. I cleaned my house for F sakes. It’s clean, SO GOD DAMN CLEAN. So why don’t I feel it? How FUKING come I don’t feel better, cleaner?

I told you everything but you still stayed. I don’t deserve that. I’m not worth that. And not in a pity party kind of way. Truthfully, I’m just not. I’m broken and you deserve togetherness.

Crap, my life sucks. I want to, at times (just sometimes), not deal with this anymore. Even if it’s for 1 day. I think I could really go for an induced coma soon…I could probably get one if drove recklessly. Got super, re-f’in-diculously sick. What else? I’m not going to, I’m mean really, but I do enjoy thinking about it. You consider it. One day of nothing, not having to be awake and face your life nothing. NOTHING. FUK.

I am not enjoying today. it started off pretty great, but now, now I’m done with today. Aaah, 8 hours until I can go home. Shit.

Okay, back to you though. I’m going to need you to really think about what’s happening with me and be damn sure you want to stick around for this. If the tables were turned I don’t know if I would. I’m merely not a good person.

Not a good person.

Part 1 - Dear Ex,

Dear FG,

I wanna be free.
Wind in my hair.
Sand under my toes.
Sun in my eyes.
Skin upon skin.
Fingers entwined.
I want to feel love.
I will let you go.
Relieve myself of this pain.
This is the beginning.
I will write you more.
I want to be free.
I want to feel love.

Screw you,

PinkFawn

Destinations

I played the game of avoidance this weekend, sorry friends. I avoided social situations as much as possible. Stayed in Friday, and most of Saturday and Sunday. Felt I simply needed to be a recluse.

However, I did finally come clean to MW what’s been happening with me. I really should’ve told him years ago, I know. When shame overtook the reality of the situation it became harder and harder. Plus he lived out of town for most of the years after I returned from abroad. Really no need to confess to someone who I didn’t have to face all the time, right?

It was a relief to know he understood. Plus I think he’s the first person I’ve told who actually, for real, without a doubt, got it. MW, you are my bff…with an extra f :)

I also *ahem* spent some time in someone else’s’ bed. Awkward. Anyways, moving on. I couldn’t help but feel fear even though he’s a genuinely decent guy. I kept having this feeling I was laying next to “him”. All of my muscles were exceptionally tense and I had the most difficult time relaxing. Would say it was damn near impossible. Couldn’t breathe, or concentrate on the now. If I closed my eyes I saw “his” room, “his” eyes. Yet neither of these men look, breathe, smell, walk, talk, or hold alike. What’s the common denominator which causes me to panic? They are both men. That simple. AHHHHHH. I loathe the simplicity of it and my current inability to fully conquer this fear.

I fear sleep. Why sleep when he’s waiting? My dreams are consumed by “him” now (let’s refer to "him" as FG). I run past him while looking in his eyes. I can feel FG following me even though there’s no one behind me. To sum up my recent dreams: I just keep running. When will I ever effin’ get to my destination? What is my destination?

No, really, what is my destination. What am I looking to achieve here? I guess I’ve just said things and not spent a lot of time considering the meaning. Here’s the beginning of what I want, hope and wish for.

I want, hope and wish to:
- Be free of thinking of him, free of the constant reminders.
- Be me without considering if this me is his creation.
- Be able to doubt myself without thinking I’m doubting because of him.
- Hear criticism without feeling belittled.
- Give to others without losing a part of myself.
- Lay in bed and accept that I am alone. He is not behind me and will never be again.
- Smile from the inside out.
- Close my eyes and see nothing.
- Be touched and without awaiting the pain.
- Love wholeheartedly and uninhibitedly.
- Love without anticipating potential harm.
- Accept that I am worth being loved.

I am sure this list will grow as more of my fears, doubts, etc., surface. For now, this is it. What I want.

Proceed With Caution

So last night, in my session (sounds better than “therapy”), we talked about what I needed to do to heal and what’s been happening over the past week. Quick overview of the last 7 days: stayed holed up in my house; went to a party, freaked out; saw his cologne, freaked out; saw his friend, freaked out. Do we see a pattern here? Oh I’m also easily aggravated and if you say one word, which I’m not too sure which word(s) that could/would be, I will sob for minutes. Sob, not cry.

She asked me to visualize him and tell him what I need to say. I cried. No, I mascara-running-down-my-face sobbed. I can’t picture him without the pain. I want to scream at him and tell him “I HAAAATE YOU. I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU!!!!!!!” a million times over. I want to hit him, I want to hurt him. I WANT to hate him in every way possible.

I don’t hate anything. Dislike, yes. Extremely dislike…sure, sometimes. But hate, it’s a strong and meaningful word. A Proceed With Caution word.

So over the next two weeks, in order to overcome this, I need to write a letter to him (only for myself of course, will never actually send it) stating everything I want to say to him. *Exhale* This task will take a lot of thinking and heartache, I’m incredibly scared and overwhelmed by it.

I also need to share what I’m going through with another great friend. This person has been in the dark about my situation for 7 years. I don’t think I’ve ever told him much about it, maybe nothing at all. He has no idea what I’m going through right now or why I’ve exhausted so much energy into pushing him away for the last couple/few years, depending on how you look at it. Shamefully, until last night, I was unaware of my own disgrace at having him near me. I’ve always been too embarrassed to tell him about it, too meek to tell him not to jokingly call me names, too weak to tell him it hurts. It’s not his fault, he doesn’t know. It’s my own for not sharing my pain with my oldest friend.

I have asked myself many times if I think he’ll understand, how I think he’ll treat me after, and what will the changes in our friendship be after I share my story. I currently have no answers for this. I just know if I don’t tell him soon, someday, because of my own doing and his lack of knowledge, I will walk out of his life. I will offer no reason as to why, I just will. I need to find the internal strength to face him soon. If I trace my emotions inside me through my esophagus, past my heart, and into my gut, where my strength lies, I cannot feel it, I cannot find my strength. Not today. Not yesterday. Maybe tomorrow, or within the tomorrows to come.

I must also work on my ability to disassociate myself from others and situations happening around me. This disassociation happens so quickly I’m not aware of it until I, quite literally, feel myself struggling to get back to the moment. It kind of feels like the moment you realize you can’t hold your breath any longer under water and it’s time to surface; but you know you must surface quickly or you risk drowning. Yes, that’s the feeling, only instead it’s my thoughts. If I don’t concentrate back on the moment I’m in asap, will I get back there? Or will I be forever stuck in a state of an inability to care, to feel, to move on, and to be whole?

In order to come out of this it requires physical feeling. Pressing of nails into my palm. Feeling my toes touching my socks. Feeling the air escape my lungs. Feel. I’d rather not, thank you.

Sorry. No Wheels.

What man would want me?

My ‘baggage’ is heavy, awkward

and doesn’t have wheels.

They may look at me, see me

out with friends having a good time and

Think this is what they want.

Most likely,

after they take a bit of time,

they’ll see it really truly is not.

Not yet anyways.

Not until I can learn how to pack

Lighter.

Cologne

Today is one of those days when I feel like nothing happened. I never saw him again, I was never in that relationship. Which is especially odd because last night I went Christmas shopping and I had a few “triggers” to set off my anxiety:
1) Large crowds
2) Saw his type of cologne
3) Ran into a friend of his

I’ll admit that when I saw the bottle for his cologne I quickly backed away, it’s almost like the bottle was him. The reminders which came from just seeing it was incredible. Not all bad, just moments. Like when we lived together and it would be on the counter in the bathroom. Then being in the bathroom getting ready to go out and he’d yell at me. Damn, I’m thinking about it again…

I slept like crap last night, couldn’t stop thinking about it and remembering. Maybe I’m not feeling it today because of exhaustion?? Huh, tiredness = relaxation?

I’m sure we’ll explore this tonight in, ugh I hate admitting this, therapy. *shudder*

It's MY Mountain

Okay, let’s figure this out. Am I scared of my friends because when I was with him I did so much avoidance to ensure I never spoke the truth about what was happening to anyone? Is that all just replaying again but now I’m just scared to admit that and what’s happening now? Was it that deeply rooted?

It is easier if I just don’t talk to anyone to not say anything. My insides are SCREAMING to get it out, but my brain says no. Not now. Not ever. It’s too embarrassing, the whole situation.

Spending time with people I know right now is a guarantee that I’ll start panicking.

My mantra before I go out: “Deep breathing, it’s going to be okay. You know them; they are your friends, they are your family.”

But, I’ll admit, it barely helps. My anxiety increases the closer I get to the party, event, or whatever. It’s so much easier if one other person there knows what I’m going through. Maybe because I’m hoping they’ll divert others attention if it becomes obvious. Or if I break they’ll try to hold me together without asking any questions.

You know them.

I feel increasingly crazy. With every minute that passes I question my own sanity because of him. Because I denied it and never allowed myself to feel it, I am paying now.

I know someday I’ll get back to me, the person I was. If I can just keep remembering who she was, if I can just remember I’ll get back to her, I can survive this.

This obstacle that looks incredibly similar to a mountain.

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Should've Stayed Home

Today/Monday:

I shouldn’t have gone but I did. Now someone else knows. I can’t tell them the truth because I don’t feel worth the label. I can’t tell them the truth because I still don’t believe it was me. I feel crazy. That sucks. Am I crazy?

When will I come to terms with it? I can’t concentrate at work because I need to know more about getting over it. I need validation that it happened and that I’ll be okay. I need validation that I’m worth what I’m going through. Do I need it from someone who’s been there too?

How long can I hide this? Christmas is coming in 10 days, there’s going to be a lot of people at dinner. Those people are my family. Will they be able to tell? Will I be able to hold it together?

Then it’s New Years Eve; 17 days until NYE. No big parties this year, no foreign places, nowhere that I can’t hide. A couple friends, literally, and no more.

Typing about this increases my anxiety. Thinking about it is twofold.

The Ugly Sweater

Saturday:

I think I can party with you all I want. But I am panicking. I can't. There are so many of you. Standing behind be. In front of me. Beside me. How do I control you? How?

I can still here the music. But I don't have to face you. I hear the interaction and the words, but I don’t have to partake. You came in the room, but I can only falsely comply to what you want.

I am wearing my ugly sweater. I am my ugly sweater.

Where is the person who will love me someday? The guy who will not hurt me? WHERE? I can only wait so long before I give up.

Maybe I won't find you. If I don't, does it matter? Really? Does it? It does. I want to love.

My War Within

Hmmm…what did she call it? What…oh right: “Disassociation”. Let’s reflect on what that word means before I continue on.

Disassociation: the denial of any connection or involvement with somebody or something else.

That’s pretty heavy. Right? Right. Keywords would be “denial of any connection”. I try so hard to focus on what you’re saying but I can’t sometimes. When an attack of my past occurs, I can’t stay with the present. You know when in movies, the camera zooms in and out in a weird way, like when the character is under the influence of drugs. That’s exactly what I see. Exactly.

Disassociation. Woah. I know you’re talking to me, I know I’m here. Hellooooo, I’m standing right HERE! Can’t you SEE me?! But I don’t feel it, I can only feel who I was so long ago. So much so, I can feel the weight of my past pressing down on my chest. What’d she call that? Anxiety attack.

I can suffer immensely right in front of your eyes, WHILE you’re talking to me, and you will never know.

Disassociation. PTSD. Anxiety. Anger. Shame. Pain. Fear.

Fear.

I try to feel my past, to let it surface but it usually won’t. If you push down feelings for 5 years, how far down do they go? I even sometimes try to cry on purpose about it. But I’ve become so distant I can’t. Literally. I’m afraid to cry in front of you because…because…? Why am I afraid? It's too vulnerable probably.

In fact, I’d rather take 1.5 hours to drive a regular 15 minute drive home, and pull over because I can no longer breathe. Think about this: I’d rather have a panic attack while I’m driving, sob until my insides break apart, until the river has run dry. I’d rather. Because than, than I am alone. No shame alone. No vulnerability if no one sees you. But sometimes, I wish someone would. But not someone I know.

The more this goes on, the more you, my friends, feel like distant creatures to me. I know, I KNOW, you’re not. But I can’t stay in the now with you. I can pretend, oh I’ll pretend (I should be an actress…expect for the not being able to cry on cue thing). But you’re all moving on in your day, in your life; whilst I’m stuck in my past. It’s like when we locked eyes, “he” hit Rewind on my life.

She said it will get worse before it gets better. I have a feeling she’ll say more. She should shut the F up. SHUT UP! F!! F U PTSD. F U “HIM”. FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!!!!!

My war within has started.

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PTSD

I have ptsd. I, me, this girl, has PTSD. Even after being told that I still don't feel worthy of this hurt, shame and...and...anything else it's caused me to feel. Really? Me? It was only abuse. It was so long ago. So long. Can't I just carry on? Without the memories, without the past?

Can't I just sleep, think, work, socialize, drive or even (yes, I'm saying it) pee without having those flashbacks? I can't believe I cry when I pee now. Ha, ridiculous. But I do, and even typing that makes me cry again.

How long until I can hold my head up, join a conversation and really pay attention to what everyone is saying? How about how much longer until I can trust a guy, relationship wise, to not abuse me after 6 months? How much longer until I can give an opinion freely, without feeling like a fool or an idiot? How much longer do I have to hurt alone? And hide it? How much longer until I can fall asleep without having flashbacks? And (pause for thought collection) not confess to those that I'm pushing away for self protection?

That's right friends, even you I can't trust right now. What happens if I tell you too much? What happens if you can't understand? What happens if I keep talking to you and you jokingly call me stupid, bitch, slut, idiot, whore, immature? Yes, I can't handle when you call me those things because 'he' used to. Those words broke me, not once 5 to 7 years ago, but again one month ago when I saw him, it all came racing back. It wrecks me every time I hear you say those words.

Do not apologize, just don't do it again.

I love you all, no matter how far I push you in the next while to come. No matter the mistakes I make. No matter the neglect I deal out. No matter the self-destructive path I am on, that you may get caught up in. I love you, my family and friends. Thank you (for the times I won't or don't say it) for your understanding, support, space and love.

Me. PTSD. Really

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I Am Not Me

As time goes by from when I saw him again, my mistakes get more out of control. My actions become less like something I would have done. My emotions become increasingly unpredictable.

I feel like I need to apologize to everyone for whatever I have done recently. I am not me. Not right now and not for a while.

I do know I’m on a crazy path of self-destruction. My reputation, my health, my relationships, all going downhill. I could control it if I wanted to, I know that. I just don’t have the energy right now but to let the past live in my thoughts.

Every night, before I fall asleep, still images of the worst times with him flash past my tired eyes. My only reprieve is reading a book until I can’t anymore, or giving all of my attention and focus at work.

I can’t socialize like I did before, it’s awkward and conversation is stilted. It’s difficult to think of anything to say, I am afraid I will tell you what happened. You don’t want to know what happened. I don’t want to know what happened.

Example - this guy I’d be interested in told me he wants to get to know me more. I panicked, I quickly steered the conversation to another topic and had someone else join the conversation. I'm not able do it yet. I can’t trust him, or any other guy, not to put me through hell again. It's one of the things I hope (a word I use a lot...along with wish. I wish and I hope.) to be able to get over it soon.

Maybe someday I’ll tell you, my friends. I hope I can forget. I wish I never saw him again, never glimpsed into his soulless eyes.

Job + House = Happiness?

A friend of mine asked me how could I be unhappy when I own a house and have a great job. I'm unaware of anyone who's happiness lies within their walls, flooring, appliances and computer. My happiness lives, moves and dies within me. Wherever I go, I bring it with me; it's not left at the office or at my house.

I don't care how many material things I accrue during my lifetime, there's no way an item can make me permanently happier...temporarily, yes.

What does make me happy? I’m sure if I sat and thought about it I could come up with quite the list, however my four top requirements are pretty basic:
- Relationships with family
- Quality of friendships
- Self-confidence / self-realization
- Taking time to give back to those I love and the community

I require all four equally, and I’ve lost one which has thrown off the balance with the others.

So no, my house and what I do for a living do not significantly affect my happiness. If those two items make it to your top four list I feel pretty bad for you, you’re missing out on a lot more in life.