The Time is Wrong

I know that in my relationships, both past and present, there is consistency and not the good kind. You say I’ll end up lonely, I reply with that’s not a fear of mine. Well, not yet and not for a while. My fears are much different than yours. I prefer “loneliness” to pain.

I’m sure someday I’ll want a family and all that kind of shit, but right now I just want to make it through the days and focus on restoring myself.

I do not think of a future, I think of the present. Why do I have to see the future, who’s in it or what I’ll be doing? I’m not a psychic.

I do not need a void filled, I only seek friendship and maybe one who I’m lucky enough to “fall in love” with. I want a companion, someone to share laughs and life with. Someone who will complement me and agrees that being negative isn’t worth the effort (a quality and thought I used to have and am fighting to get back).

I do not want to have serious conversations in bed, that is not the place for them. My bed is where I relax and try to let go of my day and thoughts.

I feel as though I have this all wrong. Am doing it wrong. The time is wrong.

You all want feelings, when right now I am protecting myself by not feeling.

"Will I Live?"

It started off big. There was no undercutting of my confidence or my person before. Six months of a regular relationship; dating, flirting and generally getting to know one another. Then the momentous moment which forever changed who I am. A knife to my throat and a moment of wondering “Will I live?”. “Will I live through tonight?”

Those were my admissions last night in group.

They asked what I did in the moment (1). They asked how I excused his behavior the next day (2). Here are my answers to both:

(1) I hid. I hid in the washroom. I hid within myself. I curled into a naked ball against a couch. I hoped. I hoped I would make it. I hoped it would end. I ran. I ran upstairs and not out. I ran away from him. I ran into the arms of his friend when someone finally came home. I hid. I hid in his friends room, in his friends clothes for the rest of the evening. Until sunlight rose, I hid.

(2) I do not remember excusing his behavior. I recall him apologizing and looking chastised for days. I believe now that I mentally and emotionally got through it by being in shock and staying in shock for 7 years. By not remembering and choosing to let it go. Could the trauma of someone you “love” having the power to kill you be too much for a girl at my age then? So much that you just let it go and carry on?

More and more comes back. I did not remember until last night thinking, during that moment, of whether or not I would live. Seeing it written down was shameful, I blushed when I said it because I was embarrassed. I looked at it once during group and never again for the rest of the evening. I could not.

I now need someone to come back with a story similar to mine. I need one of them to admit they wondered if they’d live. I crave it. In a weird way I feel it would complete me, though it probably would not. There’s an emptiness in my soul that I somehow need to fill. I just haven’t found with what yet.

I think that’s all you need to know for now. I think that’s all I can write without disappearing for today.

Reclaim the Lost

Last weekend started off with feeling like I no longer belonged to something I loved. Still love I guess. The rest of the weekend I fought to make my place again, I don’t think I 100% found it but I started to look at least. I, for once, knew what I was doing and even though the friendships/relationships have fallen to the wayside I’d got the conversations started again.

I worked myself to exhaustion. I hurt all over. I had a sense of accomplishment.

Now we’re back to Wednesday and MP asked me this morning if I thought the group was good for me because it has left me ragged after. I don’t know yet. It’s hard, it hurts and it’s scary. I dread Wednesdays more than Mondays. Wednesdays make me tired and nervous. Being in that room with the others takes me back to a place I’d rather never go again physically; which isn’t to say it’s less callous on my psyche.

I was watching Biggest Loser last night. This girl hugged her dad and I wept for a friend. KS, there is nothing anyone can do to bring your dad back but you know he will never really leave you. Every word, shared moment and memory are for you and him now. When you need to hug him just take a bit to remember anything about him until the corner(s) of your lips turn upward instead of down. I wish you a healed heart. xoxo

I want to wake up on Sunday

Hard. It’s so fucking hard to hear other people’s stories. It’s hard to believe I belong in the same room as them. It’s hard to toss out the shame and embarrassment even though I don’t think they should feel it.

It’s so fucking hard to hear my own voice over his. Mine is a whisper compared to his roar which demands to remind me that I’m a worthless-unlovable-whore.

It isn’t easy by any means. They look at me, quickly and surprised, when I talk. Which, for those who knew me before, it wasn’t shocking when I talked…I loved talking. He writes down what I say, like it means something, or he hasn’t heard it before/in a while. I am angry for the other women. I want to take them all in, let them and their little ones stay with me. House them and protect them all from the bad, as I have done for myself for so many years.

I still can only admit to them what happened, in a much more delicate way than I would tell most of you. I feel as though they relate to me and yet I am having a hard time accepting the ONE thing I wanted for so long. I want to heal them, why can’t I find the want to do the same for myself?

The image that stuck in my mind last night was his red cheek and my hand. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Disbelief that I hit back. Knowing I had to get out before I became an abuser, instead of just the ****ee.

I cried until the water ran cold. I shut off my alarm. I want an endless supply of warm water and tears. A glass of wine and an embrace. I want to let go of today, tomorrow. And the day after. I want to wake up on Sunday.

Losing My Self-Identity

Group again tonight. What it did to me the last time…not looking forward to that. The dreams haven’t stopped, he pops into them whenever. Fuck his face.

As I was reflecting on the things I have done over the past week I am not too sure if I am proud impressed with myself for doing things that I normally would have anyways. Forced myself to do so many things, but didn’t find any excitement in the usual. I went to my first ball games, double-header on Monday, made the usual funny comments they all expected of me but I was dying to go home. I stuck it out though, didn’t play my best but ah well. I am still taken aback by how uncomfortable I can be around those I’ve known for years and years.

This week is the big volunteering week. The one I am normally so into; the one I have spent months ramping up for…not this year. Imagine all those fucking people, thousands of them. Once you get thrown in that red committee shirt there is no hiding, oh god that is scary. For over 23 hours in 2 days I will have to suppress everything, put a smile on my face and be “on” the whole time. For co-committee members, co-volunteers, attendees, VIPs, friends, adults, children, baaah.

This year I wish I could be sad that I couldn’t invest more time into this event but I’m just not feeling it…or much of anything these days. I’ve passed on all the committee meetings, backed out of all my responsibilities so far, I really don’t want to lose this one though. Passed on my stuff that I’m supposed to do for it tonight (because of the group) to a friend and I’m jealous it’s not me there. And the retarded, insecure part is afraid she’ll outshine/outdo/out-everything me and take my place next year. Will they like her more than me? Think she’s more dedicated? Kinder? More caring? Everything I’m not? I mean, what am I right now? I feel like a lying piece of shit. Fake. Scared. Incapable. Stupid. Dumbass. Bitch. FUCK YOU Franco. How do I take my power and self back from you?

What do I have right now that I can call mine and enjoy? Not much of anything. Whatever.

This group thing depresses me. I don’t want to do this. I could cry now. Go home, hide in bed and cry.

Lessons Learned - Fuck That

Do you ever feel like you can't get a fucking thing right? No breaks are offered to you. You make one little mistake that ends up costing you much, much, much more? Lessons learned and all that shit won't save me a few thousand dollars now; won't take back the memories; won't reimburse me with my old self.

Fuck you Lessons Learned. Who the fuck needs to learn a lesson by yourself when someone could've just told you or warned you? Don't sign a contract until you have all the material, information, etc. covered 100% percent. Until it's all in front of you. Don't stay in a relationship with someone who breaks you apart piece by piece without you noticing - find your "red flag" words or situtations and stick to them.

How do you not relate your past to your present? Fuck me it's hard.

I can barely, barely, almost not, function today without crying. If I even think just a little about everything that's going on, needs to be done or fixed I may just fucking lose it. I couldn't give a shit about my plans this weekend, if I feel like doing it when it approaches I will. But probably not, there is just too much going on for me to process at the moment. I can't handle this, I cannot do it. I can't.

i HATE the world today

Talking to JL on Sunday. I don’t really feel like formally talking, not too sure what I want/have to say. Part of me questions whether or not she should even know what’s going on, it isn’t like she has shown an interest in being around. Plus, when I tell her I feel abandoned/left out by her she proceeds to tell me she has to meet early on Sunday because she has dinner plans with another friend. HOLY FUCK, are you not LISTENING. It’s kind of like she’s rubbing it in. Kind of like she’s saying this:

“Hey (insert my name), you’re not important enough to me to include in anything, or to talk to unless you get upset with me. I would much rather ignore what you are actually saying and just make you feel like shit. I will never listen to a fucking word that comes out of your mouth because it isn’t important and doesn’t matter. I only want to get drunk with you so you so shut the fuck up and call me when you’re better and want to party.”

MP said I was selfish last night because I’m not one to give shoulder rubs, or give foot massages, and get all touchy-feely like that. I have never been one to do this. You know when girls in elementary school would want you to play with their hair while you sat in assembly or something…I couldn’t be bothered. It never interested me to have mine played with or to touch someone else’s. I was never the hairdresser or doctor while playing make-believe. I think all that touching is too unnecessary. If I really need someone to rub my head, shoulders, back or feet I’ll friggin’ pay a professional to do it. It’s not selfish, just not a part of who I am. It’s not like I miraculously changed into this person who wasn’t interested in this. I never have been. I don’t need to be touched and coddled all the time, therefore I’m not interested in doing it too much for someone else.

Is it totally fucking twisted that I don’t even like when someone asks me for a hug or kiss. If you want to hug or kiss me just do it, don’t ask. Do it.
Ah fuck it. I’m in a bad mood. I hate the world today. The world. Don’t tell me I’m selfish. Don’t all of the sudden want to talk but ignore what I say. FUCK.