Survival

It has taken me many years to reach the semi-healthy state I am currently in. While some of those in my life may be shocked to even know there is a healthy side here, I am well-aware of it. And unfortunately, there have been many setbacks over the years that have demolished many of the prior accomplishments. Such is life though; at times it is hard to move beyond three steps forward and two back--this is beyond our control.

However, had you met me as a child, you would have met the shy, frightened child that was convinced that I was a horrible person. During my teenage years, the shy, frightened youth was still convinced that I was a horrible person but now my acts more often reflected it openly. During young adulthood, I struggled with the loss of my mother and the guilt that I was to blame for that as well; plus the added grief that she was gone and I was alone.

I am not entirely sure when I began to recognize that maybe they were wrong. I suppose this was a gradual process--accomplishments such as obtaining my Bachelor's Degree, my Master's Degree, becoming a homeowner, moving to the top at the company I worked for--these things surely contributed to counteracting the earlier promises that I would never amount to anything, that I would be pregnant and on welfare by sixteen. I think even more important were the few people that believed in me and had faith in me. How much influence their words carried, and still do.

My fourth grade teacher spent more time with me than anyone in my life ever had--circuses, horseback riding--quality time! Something foreign in my world. To her, I had a name and value. She was the first to reach out. I had another teacher, my senior year, that spent time with me and pushed me because she knew I was capable. She took me to Chinese, allowed me to ride in her convertible and took me to her house. I marveled at her treasures from her travels. It gave me hope that someday I could have a similar life.

Their were other adults that stepped in. When I was fifteen, I volunteered for a woman that ran a dog grooming business. She became a big sister, a confidant, shelter from many storms. When I was seventeen, I had an actual "Big Sister" that spent time with me and took me under her wing. Sometimes it was friend's mothers, sometimes it was neighbors, but there always seemed to be a guardian stepping in to catch me and help me along. I remember them all and am thankful for their guidance and support.

I think they are also the reasons that I have worked with teenagers through the years. It is such a difficult time to begin with, but when you are the family scapegoat, come from poverty, and have been bullied all your life it can be overwhelming. I was an angry child underneath the shy, quiet exterior--I became an even angrier teenager. Outwardly, depression was what showed--behind it, blind rage. Rage I had no idea how to control or even why I carried it. All I knew was that I hurt and I was mad as hell.

Life didn't get better. It got worse. For many, many years, living was my challenge and one that I did not want. Life did not get better until 28. It still wasn't always sunshine and roses, but it was my first taste away from oppression and truly being on my own. I left the abusive relationship of six-years somewhat before that, but it took some time to heal and feel human after that. Much as my last relationship knocked me through a loop that still sends me into a downward spiral from time to time; much as the interactions with my father last year pushed me even further down. Life sometimes takes an emotional toll that we can't always quickly recuperate from. But like physical illness, we can often recover from emotional illness with time and rest.

Day by day, I heal. It is a slow process and I often get angry with myself that I am not further ahead emotionally. But sometimes I must stop and look. I must stop and look at the child I was. I must look at the teenager that I grew into. I must look at the young adult that tried to quit so many times. For any of those three to look ahead and see where I am today--none would have believed it possible. They may have seen the interactions with my father and said "Well, duh! How could you NOT expect that???" Yet the 36 year old me was shocked and mortified that such a thing could happen; that a "successful" adult could be treated in such a manner, that he still treated me as he did the child, teenager, and young adult. That he still used fear, intimidation, and his authority to attempt to control my behavior. That he still sees physical force as a way to overcome me and force me to do as he says. But I have been free of him since that incident--I am feeling safer than I did last year at this time. I move on; I heal.

At some point in life, I began to realize that their labels didn't define me; that I could prove them all wrong by doing what they least expected... succeeding. I know that there are still stumbling blocks. I know that I will continue to fall more than I like. But I have come so far--so much further than any of them would have expected. Further than I ever even thought possible. 28 started a better life for me. The best years of my life were not childhood or my teenage years--I don't know who came up with that myth! But my point is, life can change at any moment. Sometimes for the better. 38 exceeds 28 and I never expected that! Especially after the heartbreaks and destruction of the last two years. It was as painful as early adulthood and again, almost impossible to survive--but I did. I continue. Again, I move forward.

Perhaps most important this time around were my friends. You have carried me, reminded me of my worth and each acted as guardian angels. A few of you knew my struggles and you acted as the family I needed. I thank you and hope that someday I can repay the love you gave me. Without you, I couldn't have continued. You are the reason I am here. Sometimes I am not sure that any of you truly realize how lost and broken I was--how hard it was to not give up. Thank you for believing in me and not giving up on me. Thank you for not allowing me to give up on myself. Thank you...

Why Not the Nice Guy?

Nice guys always complain that women prefer to be with assholes. It often does seem true--good women being treated like crap by their boyfriends and likewise, nice guys stuck with women that treat them horribly. We have all seen it and wondered why? Do we have to treat our significant others poorly in order to get a good one? I think maybe I have finally figured out the phenomenon.

My last one was about as far from a nice guy as you can get. He would regularly scream at me that I was crazy, that no guy in their right mind would want anything to do with me, that I was lucky to have him because nobody else could possibly ever put up with me. I was ugly, fat, a joke of a therapist--the list goes on and on of the daily put-downs and self-esteem shatterers that I lived with.

After him, I vowed that it was nice guys from here on out. I vowed never to be hit again after the six year relationship of black eyes and bruises on a weekly basis and twelve years later, I am still free from abuse at a man's hands. It came close to crossing that line more than once with my last one but I managed to leave before it moved beyond him grabbing me in anger.

Since him, I have exclusively dated and spent time with nice guys. Now that I am in a "healthy" relationship with a nice guy, I am baffled. I find that I am now the bad person in the relationship. I have mood swings, I am unpleasant to be around, I am all of the things the last one said I am. I don't know how to fix it--it's horrible. I love this one so much and am terrified of losing him, yet I feel myself sabotaging it no matter how I try not to. Is it that I feel I don't deserve to be treated well? I think that is a major piece of the puzzle.

All of my life I have been told how horrible I was. By my parents, my father's family, eventually boyfriends--it is a script that runs in my head and is extremely difficult to escape. A part of me knows that it isn't true. Part of me knows that I am a good, worthwhile person but over thirty years of being told otherwise does not vanish overnight. So what happens when you are with someone that treats you well and has faith in you? It goes against everything that you have been taught. I feel like I am deceiving him. I feel like eventually he will see how horrible I am and he will leave me. I will be hurt worse than ever because he is worth keeping.

Does this mean I like being with the abusers? Good lords, no. But it is where I belong. My nice guy belongs with a nice girl. I keep waiting for him to just not come home, to find someone else, to discover it has all been lies. The others all did that, too. I don't know that I have ever been with a boyfriend that was faithful. Surely that too, was because of how horrible I am? The last one beat that into my head, also. Of course, he even convinced me to befriend his ex because she was still such "an important part of his life." How great it was discovering the extent of his life she was a part of. Perhaps one of his best lines: "There are three people being hurt in this relationship--you, me and her." "Why am I here then?" Funny, when he finally ended it with her (or so he said) he told me that I won. Like he was some great prize. I knew he wasn't by that point. Wow... sorry for the tangent there...

My point is, as someone that has been told forever that I was horrible, isn't it awfully damn selfish of me to be with a nice guy? Shouldn't I stay away from them? They deserve better than the likes of me. I think I have always came across as the nice girl with an asshole simply because they were beyond nasty. Anybody could look nice next to them. But in essence, they were most likely right--I probably did deserve their treatment. I sure don't feel like I deserve the nice guy.

Gods, how I hate this. I know I need intensive therapy--probably ECT, a lobotomy or such. Positive thinking works for a while, but the voices of parental units and ex-boyfriends seem to be much louder. While I pray it works out with this one--I pray he is strong enough to ride this out--my faith is slipping. What is there here to be worth working for?

So yeah, message to you nice guys that wonder why we don't pick you--maybe you should be glad? Maybe we are saving you from something you don't even realize is bad. Maybe it is just that "the grass is always greener" deal. Whatever it is, consider yourself lucky...

I Love You; But I Don't Like You...

How many times have I been in that boat? "I still love him--but liking him is no longer possible." When it crosses the line that you care about them as a human and do not wish to see them in pain, but you no longer like them as a person--the love fades rather quickly.

Sure, there are times when we may not care for our partners all that much, I think that is normal; but when it predominately is an issue, the end isn't far off. Yet how many people let the relationship continue when the feelings are gone? Sometimes it is in hope of regaining lost feelings, sometimes it is due to not wanting to hurt the other person, sometimes it is our own fear of change. How sad to live the lie, for both partners.

Just a random thought...

Grasping Bootstraps

Why the deep sense of injustice? Why blog about events of the past that are probably better off forgotten? Is this just some pathetic pity party; an attempt to elicit sympathy?

There are some events in our life that are immobilizing, crippling, demoralizing--they shatter our very sense of who we are--our self-esteem and faith in the world are never the same. We struggle to understand what has happened; why it has happened and we fight to pick ourselves back up. We fight to return to some semblance of normalcy and we fight with hopes that it never happens again. This is one of those battles.

I am trying very hard to move forward and to save myself from future pains. I am struggling to make sense of it all in the best way that I know how. My other hope is that perhaps other people in similar situations will benefit from this or prevent themselves from similar traps. In short though, this is part of my healing. This is my personal therapy; welcome along on the journey...

Forgiveness

I think line #3 is the most important, for me, at this time. "Forgiveness doesn't mean that what happened was OK, and it doesn't mean that person should still be welcome in your life." It is possible to forgive without allowing that person back into your life and it is much better than carrying that heavy stone everywhere that you go...

Always the Outsider

When you chose his side,
You cast me out.
While I was forbidden to be a part of the family,
He was embraced into the fold.
When you said that you knew he would not do those things,
You in turn determined that I was a liar.

When I needed your support,
You added to my pain.
When I saw myself through your eyes,
I realized the truth.
You were never my family,
But my destroyers.
It was never love you peddled,
but guilt, manipulation and pain.

Control is all you understand.
Fear underlies your anger.
Should I continue to play your games?
Continue while wondering how much longer until you pierce me again?
Forgive, forgive and forgive again.
It has always been my way.
Pain has always followed.

Funny, how even now you still blame me.
Surely, you have noted you error;
Yet pride, denial and hate keep you where you are.
How can I love myself and keep you?
How can I call you family and heal?
If I bow, you continue to kick me while I am down.
This, too, is self-preservation.

Am I to forgive? Why should I?
Would you, were the situation reversed?
I would have been crucified--made an example of.
You tried to hang me--for not choosing your path.
My mistake--trying to show you who I am.
Trying to help you understand.
Now I understand--blindness--an inability to see.

The picture you have always painted of me,
Can no longer be what I cast in the mirror.
I am not that person.
Somewhere, you know this, too.
But this is not my duty to prove.
I owe you nothing. I am not yours.

You have no more control; than the control I permit.
I think this is just as it was meant to be.
You there; me here.
I choose to let you go.
Keep him. Keep yourselves.
Wallow together in your hatred.
I choose me. I choose love.
I choose freedom from your oppression.

That Was Then...

He treats me like a queen. It is so foreign to me. When I look back at relationships I have had with significant others, this one is so alien. Not to say they were all bad--some more so than others, some left deep scars, some still bring smiles--but they all seem to have a common thread: I gave; they took.

I feel equal footing with this one. I am free to be me. He does not condemn or criticize. There is give and take. There is balance. Most importantly, I feel good when I am with him. This, too, is foreign. It makes me feel sappy how much love I feel and how eagerly I await every moment with him.

I loved my other ones, too--don't get me wrong. But more often than not, loving led to pain.

"I do love you and I am happy with you; you dumb fucking cunt" was followed by "I don't see how you can be a therapist as fucked up as you are. I've never met someone as fucked up as you. I stay because I am happy but I want you to know I could get fresh fucking pussy tomorrow if I wanted it." Why do I know these word for word? Because my last one regularly spewed such lovely sentiments and then would tell me I was crazy the following day. He NEVER said any such thing. So every now and then as he was in his tirades, towering over me, screaming and spitting; I would record it. Not that it did much good... I always seemed to misunderstand what he was trying to say. He just meant he was happy and loved me. Why did I have to twist it into negativity? Because eventually I, too, believed him when he said I was crazy and was twisting things into negativity. Emotional manipulators are great at convincing you that it is all you.

My six year relationship was battering of a physical nature. Black eyes, bruises; hats pulled low. Apologies and tears following the events; promises that it would never happen again. Me always hoping that it would be the last time; but add alcohol to that one and fists were bound to connect with my face. It has been twelve years since that one ended and I still love him. We are able to talk like old friends when we run into each other. I still talk to and spend time with his family. But I never should have spent six years hoping it would change. It doesn't. And while I still love him and he admits that he messed up and wishes he hadn't lost me; I love myself more than that. I didn't deserve it then either, but I saw the good in him and allowed it to be enough. Never again. And that's why I only lasted two years with the last one--I know I don't deserve that. Nobody does.

My last one always told me that the problem with our relationship was that it lacked passion. I didn't know how to fight and how could we have a good relationship without fighting? But I don't play like that. Did I have horrible come-backs and hurtful things that I could have said in return? Hells, yes. Plenty of them. But two problems with that: I don't like to purposely hurt people and would it have fueled the flames enough for it to have crossed into physical abuse? Quite possibly. His argument eventually was that he only said these things to encourage me to fight back (he knew it would make me feel better). Much as his regular put-downs about my physical appearance were for my own good (to motivate me to lose weight) and his rages about my lack of abilities were to encourage me to try harder. Emotional manipulators convince you that your best interests are all they care about (as they destroy every last shred of your self-esteem).

So how did I end up with a good guy? With so much history of drawing in the negative, hurtful "gentlemen," how did I come out with one that listens? One that holds me? One that kisses away my tears? One that not only tolerates my weak moments when insecurity washes over me, but picks me up and tells me that I am better than that? How did I break the cycle?

I spent a year attending domestic violence meetings once a week, a minimum of three hours a week. I poured out my story, shed numerous tears and listened as other women shared their stories. Some weeks, it was the only time I left my house and I had to force myself to go. I never hit a spot in my life like I did after the PFA/police incident. I still bear more scars than I would like to admit. I can honestly say that the person I was prior to that day is so far removed from who I am now, that it confuses even me.

I have shared my story with many others, including at a "Take Back the Night" event where I shared my story while standing behind a podium, with a microphone in front of me and a roomful of strangers listening to the most painful parts of my life. It was worth it when a young girl came up to me after my speech and explained that she was going through a similar situation, thought she was alone and she didn't know where to turn. I was able to use the events that occurred in my life to ease someone else's pain and guide them. My story has also been shared in domestic violence newsletters.

How did I break the cycle? By admitting that I have made bad choices in relationships. By examining the qualities these men have in common. By examining what draws me to them and why I stayed when so many women would have left the abusers. By recognizing that a lifetime of experiences made these men seem like logical choices. By believing that I deserved it. That was the big one. I was raised by a man telling me that I was worthless and would never amount to anything. Why would I believe differently? When you are not worthy of a parent's love, how on Earth can you love yourself? When your own family sees fit to take any route necessary to control you and make you obedient--isn't it natural to seek out mates of the same nature?

So, really, how did I break the cycle? I would like to say it was good choices and wisdom that led to me being with my current partner. The truth is, I don't know. I feel like life decided that my past heartbreaks were more than one person could possibly bear and the universe decided to smile upon me for once. In truth, he is amazing in so many ways and I feel blessed to have him in my life. I never believed that I would find someone like him and it amazes me when I look at my past relationships and look at what I have now. I didn't know this was possible.

We don't fight. We talk. Sometimes he has to bang his head against my walls and ask if I am okay. When I am not, he listens. I don't feel foolish, degraded, or stupid with him. And sadly, it is still so difficult for me to believe that I deserve him. He seems too good to be true. I am afraid of being this happy. Foreign. The little voice of the past creeps in and asks "what on Earth can he possibly see in me?" "Why does he stay?" "When is the other shoe going to drop?" It is so hard to let go of the preconceived notions and just allow myself to be happy. It terrifies me. What if something happens and I lose him? Daily, I remind myself that I need to live in the moment and just enjoy my time with him. Daily, I count my blessings. Daily, I look in the mirror and say "It's okay. You have fought long and hard to be here. Enjoy it."

But it is still so damn hard...