4 Years

Today I realized, with surprising pain, that it's been 4 years.

4 years since he kissed me. 4 years since my battle with boys started and the abuse ensued at hands not of my family. 4 years since I realized that G-d wouldn't save me from everything the way I thought He would.

Today, of all days, it hit me with the force that it had when it first happened. It hit me like a head-on collision with a train. Like one thousand anvils crushing me from all directions. Like the weight of the world is sitting on my rib cage, keeping me from taking any more breaths, yet I am forced to keep going. Forced to keep breathing, and living, and surviving. Forced to continue on in this world when nobody cares. Nobody gives a flying f#ck if I were to wake up each day.

Still, I wake up. Day after day I show up to younglife, to work, to bible study, and to my other obligations. I show up for people who don't care. People who wouldn't notice if I were never to show up again. I show up for people who have hundreds of other people that they could lean on, should lean on, because it's an inconvenience for them to meet with me. I'm a hassle, an inconvenience, and a thorn.

4 years ago, my world was shattered. It began a path of my delusions being stripped away, my hope in a better life being crushed, and my desire for a husband and a family began to fade. Slowly, these hopes and dreams became painful wounds, scars to be reopened hundreds of times since. I discovered that I don't matter. My boundaries, my voice, my wants, and my "no" doesn't matter. I realized that my feeble support system was incapable of seeing me through the realness of life.

It came to my attention that life isn't a love story, it's not some great romance. Life, maybe not yours but mine, is not some fairy tale. My life is simply something to be survived. There is no knight in shining armor. G-d won't protect me from the evil in this world. I can't find happiness, despite trying everything everyone and my counselor has suggested. My life isn't supposed to be one of the top 5, I'm not supposed to be important, and my deepest desires to know people and to be known, won't be realized.

Happy endings are for other people. Love is for other people. Miracles that show them day after day that G-d saves them, is for other people. My life is about the realization that tragedies lie around every corner. That loneliness won't kill you with any type of speed, and that major depression is a lifelong fight that nobody will show up to help you defeat. My life is about showing grace and forgiveness to others, but being constantly beat down. My life is about learning to deal with disappointments so much that you stop hoping. I'm a top student in the university of being there for others who have no qualms with pushing me aside. I am a master at being invisible, learning to deal with lives crushing blows alone, and surviving years alone.

I Thought Life Would Look Different

I turn 24 in approximately 10 days.

You guys know, I don't like birthdays. I'm not a huge fan of the extra attention, looking back on yet another year that has come and gone, nor remembering how much I had planned to do before getting to this point.

When I was younger, I had hoped to at least be married by now. But, I'm solidly single. I've been single for several years now, and no prospects of that changing any time in the near future.

I had hoped to be in Small Town; learning more, training new staff, and working up the career ladder there.

I had hoped to be accepted into graduate school and working towards furthering my education.

Naively, I had also hoped to have started having kids by now. I want to be a young mom, but I watch those years go and go and go.

I know, I'll only be 24. Someday I will look back and remember how foolish I was for wanting to pile on all of the adult responsibilities at the same time, but I'm feeling impatient. I'm thinking of the ways that a marriage would benefit me for housing, companionship, and general support in the simplicities of life.

Then again, I begin thinking of how difficult relationships are... You have to share in a marriage. Share a kitchen, a bathroom, a house, a bed, and your life with another person. This other person was raised differently than you. Sure, you may love them, but everything that they have come from is different than what you came from. Different family dynamics, different expectations, different bedtime routines, different views on life, different food/cooking preferences, and different ideas of how marriage is supposed to work.

As if that weren't enough, you have to share your day with them. Share thoughts, feelings, and emotions and try to continue to connect with them... every day.

And, if that all doesn't have your feathers ruffled, you're supposed to share your body with them as well?



I know, I know. Here's yet ANOTHER stinking post about how stupid trauma has effected my life and how I am sad about what it's done. I should be able to just get over it eventually, right? Didn't that time that I should have been over it come and go? Shouldn't I be moving on? Finding joy? Starting life over and hoping for the best?

Well, kind of. I guess I'm still mourning. I'm mourning the loss of what was stolen from me. I'm mourning for the dreams that I killed and buried all those years ago. I'm mourning the years of life stolen from me, as I have been climbing my way out of a deep, deep pit I was forced into. I'm mourning the life that cannot be, the goals that cannot be fulfilled, and the plans that I had.

G-d has different plans, better plans than I could ever imagine. He's got plans that will hopefully make a beautiful tapestry out of the tangled ends that I have come to. He's got plans that are so far beyond my comprehension, that I will never understand them.

However, I'm allowing myself to mourn this anniversary of life.

3 years ago, I came to this season with excitement, but low expectations, for my 21st birthday. I decided to celebrate my birthday that year and tell some people. I decided to allow people to make a big deal about me. 3 weeks later, my life came to a screeching halt. I had innocence forcefully torn from me. I was held down and my pleading was ignored. Unthinkable things were done to me and it put my life on pause. For 3 years, I have been stuck in survival mode. I am beginning to break free and start to live again. However, I have lost 3 years of my life, completely. Sure, I graduated, worked, and G-d brought me through. But I didn't live.

In 7 days marks the 4th anniversary of Country Boy's death by suicide. It, in itself, was highly traumatizing for me. Upon that loss, the trauma has continued to pile on. That loss started the Complex in the Complex PTSD. He was 19. Didn't even make it until he was 20. He didn't wait until he was 21. He carried a lot of grief and pain with him. It crushed him. I still remember the pain in his eyes. The hope he had that someone else understood his grief when we started talking about death on that little date at the Starbucks in Target. I made up some crap story, but deep inside, I wanted to tell him of my struggles with suicidal thoughts too. It never occurred to me that other people struggled with it too! I didn't want to bring him down on our mini date! I didn't want to burden him with more grief and worry than he already had.



You see, I shouldn't be older than 19, in my head. I "functioned" from 19 to 21, but L-rd knows I wasn't living. My life slowed down with the death of Country Boy. At the moment of my first assault with exboyfriend, my life came to a standstill. Time with exfiance was spent fighting to breath another day, and continued to stand still.

So now, I get to my 24th birthday feeling like a failure. Where has my life gone?

"Why did you stay?"

This is a question I've been asked many, many times when people hear even a smidge of my stories.

With exboyfriend, the police, detective, and my first counselor asked why I stayed the weekend after his first assault.

With exfiance, I've been much more secretive about my time with him, because I've already lost so many people because of him. I've learned to be alone and find contentment in being single, independent, and doing things solely by myself.

Last week, my counselor noted that I've been dissociated for the past few weeks, even in counseling. So, she asked me to talk about exfiance. My mind went blank (dissociation). I asked her what I should talk about and she began asking me basic questions. How did we meet? What was he like? How did it all start? Why did I let him hurt me so many times? Why did I not leave after his first assault like I did with exboyfriend? etc. etc. etc.

I was overcome with anger at being challenged, especially by someone who I had come to know synonymously with comfort and support. Tears were freely flowing at this point, though I had gotten through most of the questions with not an ounce of emotion while recalling our history and how it all started. However, the tears were spilling out like a fire hydrant when we got to the point of asking me why I stayed and let him to continue hurting me. In full defensiveness, I told her what I figured she already knew, "it's not that easy to just walk away, he wouldn't let me go".

It's true. Thus the restraining order attempt. He monopolized all my time from day 1, called and texted constantly, built me up for a few weeks, maybe a couple months, then he started the cycle of breaking me down and guilting me into staying. He brainwashed me, manipulated me to the umpteenth degree, tried to convince me I was nothing (and succeeded, for a little while). When I tried to leave, he told me he would go drive his truck into a tree because he couldn't imagine life without me. He played on all of my past traumas, to fully cement in my head that I was stuck.

Stuck with him. Stuck in an engagement, and eventual marriage, that was all a sham and started as pacification after the first assault. Stuck in abuse, convinced that that was simply my lot in life.

With this, I was introduced to the idea that I have no friends through this abuse because I was a terrible friend in the midst of it. For the 2 friends I trusted, I unloaded far too much information because I had nobody else to talk to. Then, when they stopped talking to me, it made no sense to me. But, after putting two and two together, I realized that it had been a pattern leading up to college that people simply came into my life for a time and promptly left. So, I thought nothing of it when this happened again amidst the trauma. I decided, purposely, to learn how to live without friends. Learn how to be alone. To go out and do fun things, alone. To finish nursing school, alone. I decided to stop getting hurt.

Unfortunately, this left me alone with exfiance.





The way my brain works is truly troubling. It shuts down and I can't communicate. You can ask me questions and if the answers cannot be a simple "yes" or "no", then it will be "I don't know". In truth I do know, but I need time to process. Time to write it out. Time to work my way through the dissociation to a point of being able to communicate and think again.

I went home and cried. Uncontrollable sobbing until I fell asleep early in the afternoon. I woke up a few hours later, my mind reeling. Rinse and repeat all week. I wracked my brain, trying to figure out why I'm such a terrible friend. Why I am such a target. What did I do that I deserve such terrible treatment? What did I do that I was being punished with mountains of abuse? Is my life a manifestation of punishment for a family sin? Maybe generations of family sins? What was so bad about me and so fundamentally wrong with who I am that relationships end in hurt every time? Am I really so unloveable that nobody wants me at all? No dating relationships no friendships?

I began to think back on my life. Did I not follow the rules? Did I not forgive 70 x 7 times and then continue to forgive after that? Did I not turn my cheek, try to forget wrongdoings against me, and attempt to continue on? Did I not love those who hurt me and try to show them G-d's love, just as we continually do things that are a slap in His face and He continues to take us back? Did I not strive to be a friend to those who had nobody, usually until they were accepted by the masses to simply leave me on the sidelines? Of course I saw the patterns, but everything in my past showed me I was just living the church girl life. I was doing all that I had been taught to do. Where did I go wrong?

All around me, I saw relationships falter, divorces run rampant, and those that weren't divorced were usually the ones stuck in relationships that made my relationship with exfiance look like a honeymoon. Yet, these women (primarily, and a couple of guys) found ways to be happy in the suffering. They learned to pacify the people they were with, and found ways out of the house to be able to have friends and fun with their kids without the terrible spouse.

I've noticed the patterns of families for years. Some families are large with lots of people always in your space. They love having tons of family members, cousins, aunt, uncles, etc that are all "close" with them and keeping up on their life happenings. Some families seem to have many kind people that have many terrible people that marry into the family. Others have families where nobody sees each other and the separate members of the family find pseudo families to belong to. There are other patterns, of course, but too many to rehash in this post.

Well, I figured that the pattern of nice people having terrible people marry into the family was my lot in life. With the exception of my uncle who is the spitting image of my terrible grandmother [who married into my grandfather's wonderful family]. That @$$h*!3 married my aunt and she is amazing and I love her and we claimed her in the divorce while completely ignoring my biological uncle for decades.

So, how was I supposed to know that my relationship with exfiance was not what it was supposed to be? All of my support systems left me high and dry. All of the relationships in my life pointed to nothing but finding happiness in the midst of a shitty relationship. Church taught me to forgive and turn the other cheek and try to love everyone and work to be Jesus to the nations. How was I supposed to know that following all of the fucking rules would lead to nothing but PTSD, deep depression, a loathing for my body and brain that is unparalleled to anything I have ever understood, and aloneness for the last 3 years of my life?

I read marriage/relationship books about how to be a better girlfriend and figure out how to have a happy relationship. I asked those that I could, studied blogs and everything I could find about relationships. I put in my hours trying to figure out why the only relationships I found myself in were ones that caused me mass amounts of pain. I even took a sexual assault nursing course (for all of 3 weeks until the flashbacks got too intense and I became thoroughly traumatized from the stories we had to read). I tried to figure out how to fix it, then I had to figure out how to leave, ALL BY MYSELF. I had to figure out red flags and final straws and escape plans, ALL BY MYSELF. I had to figure out how to survive so many terrible things ALL BY MYSELF.

That's why I couldn't leave. That's why I stayed for so long. I was in the Word, I was praying, I was going to church, I was reaching out for help and being met with silence at every turn. That's why I stayed. I was fighting to breathe and struggling to break free, and so no, I couldn't just walk out after the first assault. It took all I had to not find a way to die. I was even praying that G-d would just take me, any way He wanted, because I didn't even have the strength to do it myself. I was even helping Him by suggesting plans of how to take me!



Why did I stay? Because I couldn't leave.

Injustices All Around

I crave justice. I strive for fairness in all I do, and simply desire that that be returned to me. Of course, this is ridiculous.

The world is not fair. Life is not fair. Justice belongs only to G-d. He is the only one that can enforce anything, who knows what happens honestly, and who can actually fairly judge anyone.

If life were fair:

• Abuse, assault, and pain would be non-existent
• Neglect in care would not be seen for anyone
• IF bad things happened, then people would be fully prosecuted for their wrong-doings
• exboyfriend would be in jail or convicted and registered as a sexual offender
• exfiance would definitely be in jail
• OR, better yet, they would have both been stoned in the "old days"
• This illegal alien with felonies, multiple deportations, and various other charges, would have been imprisoned and charged with murder, because that's what he did
• All these asshole executives would never assault, harass, and torture people just because they think the world should worship them
• There would be children who never know the pain of being abandoned and/or neglected
• Nobody would know the sting of loss
• Best Friend never would have done what he did that hurt me so deeply
• There would be far less damage and pain, if any, in the world

Yet, we all know suffering. 

We all know loss, dread, pain, disgust, pain, and the feeling of our hearts breaking.

I'm not allowed to watch the news, as per my counselor. But, it's impossible to not hear or read what is happening in the world. 

I'm not allowed to watch the news because it makes me irrationally angry. It hurts my heart. I am overwhelmed with grief for the things I cannot prevent or fix.

It's all too much to handle. Between the weight of my personal burdens, and the smothering fog of the evil in this world, there is no air to breathe.

Bain of My Existence

I know it's stupid, but I despise weddings. Always have. I'll attend all of the funerals I'm invited to, or hear about, but weddings get automatic excuses and declines from me. I hate weddings.

With that said, Beauty from nursing school got engaged right before our pinning ceremony. It took them a long time, but her wedding was finally planned for the end of October (2017) and I just so happened to get invited... I straight up told her I probably wouldn't go. I have told her that since I've known her, so it's not like it was even a surprise. Still, she kept begging me to go.

I still regret going.

All through the ceremony I was holding back tears. The tears weren't because the wedding was beautiful, or because the bride and a billion other people were crying, or because of allergies. I was holding back tears thinking of my certainty that a wedding will not happen for me.

There is such a certainty and gravity to this understanding in my heart, I've had it since I was a little girl. I did not go to the father daughter dances. My dad and I spent time at his shop, where I kept busy with "girlier" things and dad taught Brother how to fix cars/trucks/everything under the sun.

Dad has social anxiety and probably a few other hinderances, which I don't blame him for, but they lead to an "un-normal" life for me. While my dad has always lived with my family, there is not much participation on his part. He didn't go to church, except maybe 3-5 times my whole childhood. We never expected to go to a restaurant for birthdays or special occasions because they made dad nervous and so the whole family would be stressed and not have fun. We stopped asking for participation from him, and didn't invite people over to the house, because we didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

So, from the time I was very young, maybe kindergarden or earlier, I've known that we just don't ask dad to do things that involve lots of people. Understanding that weddings involve lots of spotlight, lots of people, and a father-daughter dance, obviously this is not something that sounds plausible in my future...

As I sat in my counselor's office, sobbing uncontrollably (for other reasons that I'll explain later), I explained why I don't believe I will/can get married. I've blamed it on being undesirable, blemished from trauma, making new mistakes (again, I'll get to this), and a myriad of other reasons I've collected over the years. And I explained the wedding thing. I sat there and told her between, "I know it's stupid, and it's probably just jealousy, but I hate weddings."

I didn't look up, but I could feel the gentleness in her voice. "I don't hear jealousy in any of this. What I hear is a lot of hurt."

Now, this whole conversation started because she asked how the wedding went. This explaination of me keeping my eyes from leaking during the service previewed the terrible news that Best Friend and I went too far that night after the reception.

He and his roommate were invited because Beauty was Best Friend's neighbor in the dorms freshman year of college, and he's actually how I ended up meeting Beauty. We've all stayed in touch over the years, and Beauty just wants to have fun, so she invited tons of people to the wedding reception.

Now, I did drink that night, but not enough to black out. I was with it and remained free from stumbles or being too drunk. I couldn't have driven home, but if I had been given water and an hour, I could have driven home no problem.

"Why, then, did I wake up and not be able to remember anything?" I asked my counselor, in much different words.

After rehashing some of the events, I realized that Best Friend had started kissing me once I was back to his house after the reception. Many problems with that statement... 1) his roommate was supposed to drop me off at my house, but Best Friend had talked him into taking me back to their place because BF wanted to see if I would kiss him (after me telling him no ALL FUCKING NIGHT.) 2) I was not privy to this decision and never consulted to see what I wanted to do.

So, back at BF's house, I laid on the couch, nearly falling asleep. At some point, he came over and started to kiss me. About 2-3 weeks ago, I put an end to us kissing. I told him I was not ready for a relationship and that I needed us to go back to just being friends. Obviously that worked really fucking well because he definitely got the message loud and clear after me telling him this about 29474957 over the course of our "friendship". (That was all solid sarcasm.) I shouldn't have had to tell him that many times and he never should have tried to kiss me after me telling him no so many times in one night and over the past several weeks/years. Maybe I need to work on being meaner.

So, we ended up kissing, and he picked me up from the couch and carried me to his bed. Now, he had done this before, I told him a few times that I don't lay in boy's beds and he knows my stories of abuse. He told me he understands, and yet it happened a couple times. Chalk it up to me being naive and believing people when I shouldn't. Man, I'm an idiot.

He kissed down my stomach, which he's done before because he thinks it's funny when I push his face away and yell at him for doing that. Except, this time he was drunk and ended up touching me where he shouldn't. It was at this point, the the rest of my memories are non-existent or 1-2 seconds long. I remember hyperventilating, shoving his hand away, and crying for about 20-30 minutes. He freaked out and went to the far edge of his bed as I laid in the fetal position sobbing. He asked what he could do and what happened and I couldn't talk. I just turned away and cried. He tried to hug me and I pushed away. Finally, after 20-30 minutes, I settled enough for him to ask me what I wanted to do. I told him I wanted to go watch t.v. and sleep. We went back out to the couch and I laid down under the blanket. I don't remember much more of the night.

I do know, however, that in the morning, I knew that we had slept together. I don't know how it started, I don't think that he raped me, but my counselor says that I dissociated because of the first incident of him touching me. This whole story came out in the first 7 minutes of me sitting down in her office and she uncovered the story via questions answered by my 1-2 syllable answers or shaking/nodding my head. I have so much shame, and disgust, and despair over this stupid night.
She tells me it's not my fault because my body was just protecting me the only way it has learned how to over the course of my abuse.

Still, I can't help but wonder how I will ever explain this act of indiscretion to someone, if a guy ever decided that he wanted to date me seriously.  I had just gotten to the point where I could think about dating after 2 years of being free from exboyfriend and exfiance. After this, where it was kind of my choice, I don't know how I will recover and survive, let alone try to date and explain this to someone.

My counselor had me think about what I would tell someone else, if I were in the outside shoes and my friend were telling me their life story that was like mine. Of course I would tell that person that it wasn't their fault, that BF had taken them (me) to the police station to report the other 2 dip-shits and he should have known after the way I freaked out that I needed to not be touched. Still, I don't understand how this all happened.

I praise the L-rd for my counselor, because she spoke such healing and comfort into my life. But I still struggle with the knowledge and memories I have.

This wasn't supposed to be my life!

My counselor says that G-d was still with me through it all. But why couldn't He keep me with it enough to be able to stop it so that I didn't sin? Why wouldn't he prevent the whole mess from coming up? Why would He not just let me get dropped off at my house like I was supposed to so that I could go to sleep? Why was it that I have to be allowed to be in a position to have 1 case of trauma, let alone the whole shit-show that was my life in 2015? Then, on top of all of that, He allows this to happen because my brain automatically dissociated?!? Where was He in all of that mess? Was he standing there watching? Was He sad? Why didn't He step in? Why did He let me go through this? Why is this supposed to be stuff that I  have to struggle through? What did I do but try to follow His Word and be kind and gracious? I know I make mistakes, but why this?

I keep thinking that I'll wake up and realize the past few years, and all of these mistakes and memories are just a bad nightmare. But I keep waking up and I'm forced to survive another painful day. As soon as life starts to get tolerable again, another traumatic thing happens and I have to figure out how to try to survive past that. It's not fair. Not even a little fair.

I don't understand how some people go their whole lives and never experience trauma, and some people have shit dumped on them their whole lives. I don't understand it at all!!! How do I get off this shit-list?

Yesterday, I had another talk with Best Friend. Instead of gently suggesting that we take time so that I can have some space. I flat out told him that I need to not talk to him for weeks. He kept sending me relationship snapchats this past week, after that night. Even after a 3 hour drive where I spilled my heart out to him about how badly it hurt me and how much I hated that we slept together. He has apologized profusely for the night, but he hasn't gotten the gravity of the situation because sex is a big deal to him, but it's not a part of his faith and not a part of any abuse that he has sustained. People just don't get it. Sex is not fun for me. It's been nothing but trauma. There is a very real chance that it will never be a healthy part of my life because of the continued abuse that I have sustained. For him, it was something "special" to share with someone he "liked" or maybe thinks he "loved". For me, it was a huge set-back in my 2 year recovery and now another shameful part of my past I will have to explain.

I told BF that him sending the relationship crap "hurt my heart" and that I didn't want to see it. I told him that about 17 times. He would apologize, but continue to send another "cute" one that he found later. He just doesn't get it. If he got it, then we wouldn't be in this fucking situation to begin with because he would have fucking stopped when I freaked out and I probably wouldn't have freaked out because he wouldn't have touched me that way in the first damn place!

I wasn't angry at him until yesterday and today. At counseling, my counselor told me it was okay for me to be angry with him. At that point, I was still fully angry at only myself. Now I'm just pissed.

I was so pissed on Friday (Thursday was counseling), that I finally scheduled my appointment to go see the nurse practitioner. I'm scared that the tests will find something. I'm terrified. However, I'm so sick of being scared and not knowing. So, I'm having the results sealed in an envelope, and my counselor agreed that I could read them at my appointment with her.

Guys, please pray that my body if free of disease from the first 2 assholes, and also from Best Friend. I hate that I have to worry about this. I hate that I had to take yet another Plan B pill. I hate my life and the fact that I keep having to fucking survive another day, every day.

I'm so over it all. I just want to be done.

Trigger Happy

Today was a rough day. Work was not bad, I had a nice preceptor. I learned a lot, and orientation is going well, considering it was only my 3rd day. However, I swear that every trigger I have was hit today.

Dealt with domestic violence reports all morning. Talked about the local domestic violence safe house/counseling program that I was able to go to for counseling. That discussion took me by surprise. I didn't tell anyone that's where I went, but first thing we did in the morning was order a consult so that one of our mom's could be referred to that program. Knife to the heart.

Dirty jokes at the nurse's station almost had me in tears. Deep breaths as I suffocate in the wide open.

We had a baby born from a sexual assault. Another jab.

My friend's nephew died by suicide today because he couldn't handle life after his dad had passed away a few months ago. Flashback to Country Boy, and my heart nearly stopped.

First thing that came on t.v. was a show about a girl who was being abused by her boyfriend, and it almost sounded just like my story with ex-fiance. What are you doing to me L-rd???

I change the channel to find something a little less triggering and one of ex-boyfriend's favorite movies comes on. Just let it be done, let me escape this life.



From the people, to the smells, to the sounds and songs, to the jokes, and everything else that happened today; I was bombarded with triggers. I excused myself during some of the conversations to go get my aromatherapy, but it wasn't the one that is strong enough to get me out of my flashbacks. I don't know if I will be able to work postpartum if this is going to keep up.

A couple days ago I had a drink with a friend and learned that ex-fiance (who told me he was moving to another state "because I called the cops")is actually still here. I haven't even started the other job where ex-boyfriend has family working, who know me and probably despise me now. That probably won't be a good situation if they are still working there.

I don't know what I was thinking!!! How am I supposed to be able to survive living here, with all of my past a part of my every day journey to the bottom of a deep chasm that I had climbed out of when I moved to Small Town last year.

Survival was barely feasible there, 8 hours away from this place. What on earth would make me believe I could survive by facing my dark past at every turn of every day?

Moving Prematurely

Seeing as I have been driving back to Home State every chance I get since Grandpa's been diagnosed with cancer, I have decided to go ahead and move back. This seemed like a great idea until I started telling my fellow coworkers and it turns out they are slightly attached to me.

I have heard "we're gonna miss you" and "you are one of the best ones!" from nearly every nurse except the Charge nurse that doesn't like me and her minion. But people that I was convinced were either indifferent or didn't like me, are coming out of the woodworks and giving me hugs, telling me they are sad to see me go. It's kind of nice, but does it kill ya to tell people this before they get to the point of leaving??? I tell people on a regular basis, but that's just me. I have made friends with nurses and staff from other floors, people that work in the cafeteria, and our sweet house keepers that come through the unit several times a night. My Aunt/boss told me that the hospital is losing a great nurse, granted she's family and I am willing to float to any unit she asks me to go to where other staff complains and flat out refuses to go. They don't even know how spoiled they are, most hospitals won't let you refuse and might even write you up for non-compliance.

I have been applying to EVERY BLESSED HOSPITAL in the entire Big City of Home State. Unfortunately, I could work all 7 nights with increased pay plus differentials and still not be able to afford living on my own. As such, I am going to be bouncing between Dad's couch and Mom's RV... Or moving back to College Town, which I don't want to do, because exboyfriend/exfiance would end up finding me. Add that to the fact that 1 out of 2 L&D/NICU units in College Town is the employer of exboyfriend's mean sister. Actually, if you recall, that is how I first met her, I covered her shift for 2 hours and by the time she came in, exboyfriend had called her and let her know it was me. I so wanted to work there too. College Town would be a great place to get both L&D experience and NICU experience at the same time, and I could work for both hospitals systems with no problems and short commutes. THIS IS WHY YOU NEVER DATE IN A SMALL TOWN!!! IT RUINS ANY CHANCES OF A FUTURE, WITHOUT YOUR PAST COMING UP ON A DAILY BASIS.

I had an interview today. It was just a phone interview, but the lady totally forgot about me. I ended up calling the recruiter an hour after the call was supposed to have taken place, then the DON and manager called me real quick and did a quick interview. They apologized up and down, and I wasn't too concerned until talking to my preceptor/mentor/charge nurse tonight. She mentioned that if they forget about interviews, it might be a sign of how the unit is run. I'm disappointed with the interview. I was pumped for it, at first. It seemed like a great place, super close to Mom's house, which is rare in Big City where I will have to drive 30 minutes in ridiculous traffic to get to any other hospital, this place was 10 minutes down one major street. In the interview, they let me know it's a level IIIB NICU with 17 beds and they ship many of their sick babies to one of the "nearby" level IV NICU's. 1) I'm coming from a 20/21 bed NICU with a max of 3 babies to 1 nurse. This hospital has 3-4 babies to 1 nurse and still does paper charting!!! What the hell is that? I thought Small Town Hospital was behind the times for having paper orders at the bedside, an old electronic charting system, and sending out kids that need anything more than a oscillator. Ugh, paper charting??? WHY???!!!???

Not to toot my own horn, but they seemed pretty excited about me. They started the interview asking if I'm willing to work overtime on short notice and they ended with asking if I would be willing to do a peer Skype interview. I am moving to a big city with hopes and plans of working in a more acute NICU where I can actually grow my knowledge base, not go backwards in my learning just because we ship all of the sick kids to a sister hospital 20 minutes away. LET ME WORK AT THAT HOSPITAL!!! Maybe I will call the recruiter back and ask about getting an interview there.

I still have to talk to my landlord about getting out of my 2 year lease early, and I'll have to pay back my "bonus". Praise the L-rd I still have it and can give it back no problem. Also, Praise the L-rd I've been saving all of the money I have been getting from overtime! My paychecks have been so meager with all of my call-offs and only getting PTO with no differentials. I get about $5-7 an hour extra in differentials depending on if I get to work weekends or not. I am so grateful I have saved my PTO until now. Otherwise, I would be getting evicted for not paying rent on time.

Oh L-rd, I am excited to see how you are going to work out my life and the current situation I'm in, but please, please can we do it a little faster?! Oh the stress.

If you are so inclined, do you mind praying with me that my landlord has amazing grace and allows me to let someone else take over my lease? Pray for guidance and wisdom in picking where I work and whether I rent a place or live with my parents.

I need to be in Big City for Nurse Midwifery School (hopefully I get into that), but College Town is much more affordable and I could maybe live with my cousin. I know, living with people, especially family, has not turned out well so far. That, too, is something to consider. *just breathe* It'll work out.

I'll keep y'all posted.

New Year of 2017!

Some of you may wonder what I've been up to for the past couple months...

Well, not much besides working. Work is getting better, mostly because I decided to stop bitching about problems that I can't fix, and working on either 1) fixing or 2) avoiding the problems I can. I know avoidance doesn't sound good, but sometimes it's okay. For instance, if there is a particular charge nurse that you do not work well with, it is okay to not sign up for her nights. Whether to simply give yourself a break or to not have to worry about being around her, or both. However, things with her are better, still awkward, but slightly better. I think she's trying to be nicer to everyone.

We have four new girls coming onto night shift in the next few months. One was a med/surg nurse for awhile and the others are new grads, I believe. Ummm, is it just me or does this seem like a bad idea? They are already upset about so many "inexperienced" girls being on the staffing sheet, let's add in a bunch of other complete newbies! I'm not saying we shouldn't give these new girls a chance, I'm just nervous that we don't have near enough experience on the night shift. If they are considering me "experienced", then we have a major issue.

I lost my first baby. Not lose as in misplace, I'm talking lose as in the baby went back to be with Jesus. It was a bitter sweet experience because those babies had a very small chance of survival, for how early they were and the start they had. And, if they had survived, their quality of life would have been terrible. I cried. I was holding it together until my ICU nurse turned NICU nurse friend started crying as she asked if I was okay. I kept baby alive for 10 hours, without sitting down/drinking/eating once in that amount of time.

There were constant drip changes, tests, blood gases, vent changes, glucose tests, IV insertions, bagging, and various other cared during that time. These babies, they were twins, fought so hard. The doctor was called constantly throughout the night and finally came in as all cares were maxed out. Doctor came in, for the third time that night, and he asked the parents if they wanted to pull support. We discontinued and capped off IV's and umbilical lines. We removed all wires we could, without putting the baby through more pain, and we gently swaddled them in the most beautiful blankets we could find. Finally, we removed their ET tubes and handed the babies to shocked parents.

Our worlds can change in an instant. In one moment, we can be excited for new babies, and picking out baby clothes, beds, and the like. In the very next breath, mere infants can float straight up to the Good L-rd's open arms.

That was my first night of 4. Following the 4 nights, I hopped on a bus headed to Home Town and visited a hot springs location with my mom. That week was so wonderful. We have 3 nights and 4 days at the hot springs, threw in a massage (my first massage ever), and had tons of time to talk over life while relaxing in the warm water. Yep, I'm gonna start getting more massages regularly. I'm working on self-care lately. I'm attempting to get an exercise plan and a workout buddy, but we'll see how far I get with that.

Well, that's all I've got for now. It's been 2 years since I met exboyfriend, and it's been over a year since I ever saw exfiance (except when he found me at that bar and the Angry Canadian from nursing school told him off for me.

Flashbacks come more in waves like memories would as opposed to the overwhelming drownings I used to live through on a minute by minute basis. These memories haunt me every day, but I am learning to survive and breathe through the waves and ground myself more efficiently.

Life rolls on and I am getting farther and farther from those guys. Man alive, I can't believe we're already about a month into the new year. Time is just flying by now that school is done.

Info Blockage

A problem I have run across, and recently discovered the other new girls are experiencing as well, is that there is a lack of communication to the newbies.

Depending on who we talk to, we are given 15 different answers to the same question that we didn't have until someone told us we needed to do something different.

I was called in for 2 extra shifts one week, and they were day shifts. So I missed the night/weekend differential that I would normally get, and I worked an extra day that week. Normally, when we get called in for a shift that was not scheduled, we get an extra $250 for that shift because we came in when we weren't expecting to. I didn't know that until I ran in to night shift nurses that told me to ask about it. I asked about it and was denied the money because somebody in HR decided that I was working my "normal" shifts, just switched times. Okay, when you get called to come in at 0630, in order to be there at 0700, that's called GETTING CALLED IN. That is not a normal shift. Then getting texted at 1130 p.m. that night to come in for another day shift, that was not scheduled, is also not normal. Somewhere, there is a disconnect and I suspect it lies with the charge nurse that called me in for both shifts...

A few days ago, I got called in at 1901 (7:01 p.m., and shortly after the start of the night shift) to come in and go to the pediatrics floor. I got an email saying that I got the $250 for that shift, for some reason.

I emailed our DON, but the way it was explained makes little to no sense and I think HR doesn't understand what happened and all of the charge nurses that we keep having during these situation are charge nurses that don't normally act as charge so they aren't used to the strange problems that occur, like random call-in pay.



Besides this, I learned that I wasn't supposed to get floated the other night when I went to be a patient sitter. I learned this from a few other charge nurses that are normally charge nurses. I didn't even know it was a rule that I'm not supposed to get floated for 6 months!!!



One of the other new girls is struggling with the rules too. We have a little paper you can sign, then sign up for an extra shift or two within a pay period. IF you sign this paper, sign up for the shifts, and get to work all of you scheduled and extra shifts, then you get $400 each of the extra shifts (1-2 per pay period). Score! Right? Thing is, you can work all of your scheduled and extra shifts, but if you are given a low census for even one shift that pay period, the extra money is denied and all of the extra shifts you worked count as regular pay. So, it's a bit of a gamble, but the risk is way lower when we are in summer and there are tons of babies on the unit and everyone is working 3-4 extra shifts a week.

The new girl got told she needed to sign up for these extra pay shifts, without being told the stipulation of how to not get the extra money. She was volun-told to stay home one night (after she had already arrived to work), even though there were other girls who had wanted to stay home and she wanted to work. So, she found out that she does not get her extra money and that all of her extra work days were a waste because they called her off.



A similar charge nurse surfaces amidst all of these troubles, but I don't want to go starting troubles where there were none. I'm not going to fight my aunt on the extra pay days, but I might go ask her if all of us new girls could be given information on all of the rules and extra things that we are supposed to do with our jobs because the information that we are not being told is coming back to bite us all in the ass.



Speaking of which, we have these blood tests that get sent to another lab. When sending the tests, we have to fill out some form with a bunch of info about the kid we are testing. Nobody ever told me that it couldn't be done in blue ink, and could only be written in black ink. We got a mass email and signs up ALL OVER THE UNIT specifying that the form must be written in black and yada, yada, yada. I know people probably don't know it was me, but they might. Everyone knows I'm new, so I'm not too concerned about it. Still, I'm irritated for getting shamed for things that we were never taught.

Whatever, I'm pretty much just rolling with it. I certainly don't get nearly as embarrassed as I used to. This is another unfortunate side effect of being constantly humiliated by exfiance, exboyfriend, and several other people who used to be friends and are now confused as to why I don't talk to them anymore. It's a mystery really.*** (*Heavy sarcasm there*)

Hunger Games and Divergent

The Hunger Games and Divergent series came out during my traumas. For a long time, I couldn't figure out why I was so drawn to these movies, even though they would trigger flashbacks and a series of very difficult days/nights for myself.

Then, as I was watching both sets of movies at home the other day, it occurred to me. In Divergent, she deals with a guy who has a crush on her, then stabbing her in the back. When that doesn't work, he kills himself. She also has to kill one of her friends because he's hunting her and her mom, while in a Sim. I had a few little tie-ins there from my personal life... forget that the movie had names from my personal life built right in.

Throw on top of everything else that this girl struggles with losing friends, fighting against what is considered acceptable and normal, and also then dealing with nightmares/flashbacks/memories/and loss. I see myself in her.

Now, let's look at the Hunger Games. Not as many similarities to my personal life, but the nightmares/flashbacks/memories definitely ring a bell. Move on to the second and third movies and I'm thinking I'm needing ways to fix our government and find freedom from the bullshit that is presently overtaking the country...



These two series of movies have a main thing in common: a girl, about my age, has to deal with the shit in the world around them, largely on their own. They are faced with death, oppression, difficulties, and then the aftermath of shit going horribly wrong. This results in them both developing severe PTSD, but having to fight through it by themselves.

My story is not as intense, but I definitely feel as though I'm somewhere along similar lines.

For now, I draw courage and encouragement from these movies. I know they are largely fiction, but people around the world are fighting similar fights as these girls, and I, everyday. Some of us surrender to the memories and desires to end them ourselves. Some are hurt and possibly killed at the hands of others, either family members, "lovers", or strangers. Still others continue on to wander through each day, not certain what or where we are going. You know what? I haven't been killed, but I've been through situations where he tried to kill me. I have not died, but I have been through situations where I actively tried to die. So, I am left wandering, by very little choice of my own. Truthfully, there is no shame in any of those paths. Sometimes, life sucks so much that I still wish I were dead. Other time, mostly when holding another woman's baby, I am glad to be earth-side, for just that instant.



Plus, Tris' hair in Insurgent is something I aspire to be able to do. I have wanted to cut it as an act of defiance since I broke up with EXfiance. He convinced me to keep my hair long because he liked it long. I almost cut it the very next day after breaking up with him, but my mom convinced me to keep it long for my graduation, then again for my new hospital pictures. Now I am on my own, in a new life, starting over, and I want short hair!!! If I don't do it now, I might never do it. I have had a bob in the past, but I'm wanting a cut similar to Tris and the cut that Jennifer Lawrence got in real life during the Hunger Game's trilogy or just after they had been completed. Y'all know what I'm talking about, right?

I so wish I could drive up to Home State, schedule a hair appointment with mom, and come back to Small Town very different. Maybe even stop by and visit a few college friends while there. Despite wanting to do this, I have a puppy who doesn't make the day-long drive so well, and she sure and hell won't make it twice. Especially seeing as I have to damn near giver her a whole adult dose of benadryl, and wait until about 6 hours into the drive, for the poor girl to finally sleep in the damn car. She won't fall for that trick many more times, she's already skeptical of Nut Rolls and bread now.

So, I'll wait until Mom comes down for Thanksgiving and shake up my style then. Screw Exfiance and Exboyfriend and any other guy that thinks I need to keep my hair long and styled just for them. No. I do what I want, when I want, because I am my own person. I have survived awful things, and I am finally living on my own. I do as I please (within reason).



I'm gonna follow in the footsteps of these lovely ladies and I'm thinking I want a tattoo and several more piercings to go along with the new hair.

Happy... Content... ???... as a Single

For a good chunk of the last decade, I have been wondering what it would be like to be in a relationship, and I had been desiring to be married. Recently, as in the past few days, I have realized that I am coming into my own skin as a single girl.

I went through 2, count them 2, relationships and both were in 2015. Well, there was this "trial run" with Best Friend, but I don't fully count that...

If you have read any of my posts, you would know that most of them are about the grieving process and healing after these terrible "relationships". Along with the struggles of the pieces left after I left my two boyfriends, you may see that I still struggle with the desire to be in a relationship, get married, and somehow find someone to love and have companionship in life.

Lately, however, I have been getting used to my time alone. I have friends at work, family to call when I'm lonely, and my alone time is fairly nice and something I often enjoy in the day or two directly after working.

Nearly a year after finding freedom from the evilness that engulfed my life for nearly a year, I am finding peace from being alone. There are moments where I am a bit lonely, but it is not nearly as difficult as it had been when I first moved to Small Town, away from my friends and family in Home State.

I can often remain happy, or at least content, until I am reminded of the girls who get the opportunity to marry a guy who treats them with respect and waits until marriage to sleep with her. I get sad that my reality is so very different.

Yet, I am grateful that I have strength to move somewhere that is several states away, by MYSELF. I have been through things, and with people, that should have and tried to kill me. I made it out of those things alive. I have a life, by myself, between living with my parents and making a future for myself. I know what it is like to be so very alone that I wander around a store, just to be around people. I also know what it is like to be able to depend on myself to make it in this world, in a world where my generation can't even get their own driver's license at the age of 21 without having their parents present, because their parents have done everything for them for the entirety of their lives. I am brave, and strong, and smart, and a survivor, and despite everything, the L-rd has allowed my heart to remain tender enough to cry with parents over the difficulty of their baby's condition. My heart aches for girls who have had to deal with my ex-boyfriends and the fact that these girls have lived a similar reality. My heart still breaks for people going through any type of tough situation, whether I have been through it or not.

I have learned that pride is something that is okay when done in the right way. I am so very proud and grateful for the way the L-rd has brought me through my traumas and difficult life circumstances. I still get upset and I'm still angry at what was done, but my heart has not hardened and I am presently content with my survival abilities up to this point.

For right now, I am okay being single and I feel that is an important milestone to be able to reach, for me.

Don't Tell Me What I Believe

It's a well-known joke in my family that I got three doses of stubbornness. One from my mom, one from my dad, and one from my mema. I have a hard head and a lot of opinions. My brain is constantly going and I analyze just about everything I hear and see in order to try to figure out how the world around me works and how I fit in within that world.

Recently I met a guy. He is studying history in an attempt to eventually get a PhD in Old Testament theology or something. We get into some discussions about beliefs, but it often stops at a fairly shallow level in order to avoid offending the other party. He makes sly remarks now and again about Messianic beliefs, and I normally bite my tongue and let him go on. 1) because I'm not great at defending my beliefs, even though I have poured hours and hours into researching and figuring out what I believe and 2) because I don't want to step on toes. I have very strong beliefs that do not commonly match up with other people's beliefs, but that doesn't mean I think anyone else should believe this way just because I do. I don't want to change anyone's beliefs, that's not my job. I may be wrong, they may be wrong. Maybe we're all wrong! Who knows?!

Regardless, this guy also started saying some things about how midwives "take over the role the husband should be playing during the birthing process" and so he doesn't believe they should be used and a doctor's management of labor/birth is a better plan. OOOOOOOOOOOOH!!!  Son, you did not just say that! Oh child, yes he did.

After a week or two of me holding my tongue and gently reminding him over and over that I want to be a midwife. He said it again. This time, since I had been contemplating what I would say the next time he uttered those despicable words, I had an answer. First, I asked where he got his info. Then I added in my own experience and the research I had found. We had a nice little discussion and he now says he doesn't think they would be that bad to use. Maybe he was just trying to not get in a bigger discussion, but I sure hope I was actually able to change his view on midwifes because they are not in the business of "taking over" the husband's role. Nurse-midwives are essentially the nurse practitioner version of an OB/GYN but they do not perform the cesareans themselves. Mostly, nurse-midwives manage women for well-woman visits, healthy/low-risk pregnancies and births, as well as birth control and other woman's health areas. OB/GYNs are versed in the high-risk and complicated pregnancies and births. It's not that either is better than the other, I think there are just different times to use each along with pro's and con's of both.

Now, getting back to theological discussions, he keeps making remarks as if he knows all about what Messianic's believe. I can tell you right now that most of what he tells me about what Messianic's supposedly believe are not things that I have heard of Messianic's actually believing... I don't know where he's getting his info, but I think that if you are going to discuss beliefs with somebody you should maybe ask them what they believe instead of talking like you know their position... Maybe that's just me...

Still, he doesn't degrade me the way ex-fiance did or even the way ex-boyfriend did. It's weird being able to be heard and also being able to actually talk during a discussion because we're both actually discussing things instead of one person (him, a.k.a. ex-fiance) yelling at the other (me). So, even though I'm infuriated with the process and the way in which he (new guy) thinks he knows it all, he still seems to at least give me a moment to explain my side, when I get the gumption to be able to share my side because I'm still used to remaining shut down talking to people.

I don't feel like we're compatible for marriage or dating, but it's still nice to be able to work on my discussion/debate skills and work on being able to stand up for my beliefs while knowing how to walk away, if the need should so arise.

I'm fully aware that my beliefs are really weird and that I'm too damn stubborn on most issues. I get it. However, if everybody stood for nothing, would anyone on the earth be able to have convictions and would we get anything done? Our passions are what make us unique and valuable. My odd thoughts on the way the Bible is written and how the world works gives me different insights into what is needed on earth than my neighbor might have. With these different beliefs and views, we (the people of the world) have a chance at finding creative solutions to the troubles we encounter in our every day lives. Right?

I dream of the miraculous. I'm not talking walking on water, turning water into wine, or any of the other amazing things talked of in the Bible. My desire of a personal miracle is simply to be blessed with a guy why is so incredibly good to me and the kids we could potentially have. Kind, sweet, gentle but strong, able to provide, and somebody who not only respects my beliefs but believes similarly so that we are not constantly fighting. How hard would that be? Somebody to support my dreams and career goals while also having goals and a strong career of his own. However, of course, I would want him home for supper and able to get off for children's events and to be there for sports and whatnot. Somebody who knows how to take care of cattle, livestock, and horses and who could allow us to have land with all sorts of animals and horses. Ideally, this guy is super smart, but kind and humble and still goofy/silly/easy-going, especially when I need him to help me relax. I want somebody who believes in the traditional roles that I believe in and see in the Bible so that I can focus on serving him, as a wife, and he works with me to set up a great household for ourselves and kids. I want someone to inspire, and spoil, and love on, and encourage, and grow old with. Somebody that knows I love him and who loves me right back so that we never have to question it with each other. I want a best friend, a leader, a supporter, and somebody that is somehow excited and comforted to find me, of all people.

My list goes on. I know the Good L-rd performs miracles every day, I'm simply asking that maybe, if it be His will, that I be blessed with an amazing guy that allows me to know that G-d is willing to allow amazing things in my life so that I forget the evilness of ex-bf and ex-fiance.

Best Buddy

Do any of y'all recall hearing about my Best Friend? I met him freshman year of college and we've been through quite a bit.

At the beginning of this blog, I used to write about how I thought he had a crush on me and we would hang out a lot. Fast forward about a year to sophomore year, and he and I "tried" dating. It lasted three weeks before I broke it off. We didn't talk much for awhile, but he contacted me again sometime between the end of Junior year and the beginning of Senior year. Weird thing about certain friendships, you can pick up right where you left off, as if nothing ever changed.

I shared with him what exboyfriend and exfiance did to me and he was crushed. It was the first time I've seen him get misty and the normal smile was not in his eyes. Regardless, he has stuck with me through my rants and raves, my days of self pity, and various legal situations where my counselor told me I needed a friend. Best Friend was that friend. He even offered to buy me a milk shake after a 5 hour wait at the police station with me. He just sat in the lobby, by himself, as I talked with an officer in the back. He didn't complain or seem irritated in the least. At the end, he gave me a hug, told me he was soooo proud of me, and listened as I rehashed the amazing work the police officer did to help me.

It doesn't matter what parts of the story I tell him or refuse to share with him, he is nothing but kind, supportive, and so very sweet. He knows when to be quiet and listen. He knows when to shut me off because I'm going down a bad thought process road. He knows when to give me time to process, or when I need to be around somebody. He asks before he hugs me. Most of all, he is working to rebuild my sense of self.

We were texting the other night, as we often times do, when he started asking questions. Questions about our short relationship (thought he has a girlfriend right now, he says he was just curious), some about what happened with the other guys, and some light-hearted questions to break up the seriousness of the conversation.

At one point, he asked, "Why, if you are so stubborn, did you not just leave these guys when you say you wanted to?" This question, in all honesty, made me get a bit defensive. I sent about 9 text pages about how I know I seem weak, staying with a guy even though I tried to break up over 4 times with him. I know it makes no sense to stay with someone who continually hurt me so badly. I know that the relationships are terrible and it makes no sense that I would have two boyfriends abuse me in terrible ways when I could have been with someone sweet. It makes absolutely no sense, even to me. However, I continued and told him that I was fighting. All those times he forced himself on me, I was fighting. All those times that I would break up with him, he would promise to be nicer and better, then I would take him back and he would be even worse because I "broke his heart," I was fighting.

I was fighting to stay alive. I was fighting to stay sane. I was fighting to make sense to myself and to do the best I could in the terrible prison I was in.

I don't know if he was shocked or sorry for asking that question in such a way, or maybe he knew that I was absolutely not bullshitting him at that point, but he replied saying: "I completely believe you. Of 4 women in my life that I actually believe 100%, you are one of them. I didn't mean to make it seem like you were foolish for not leaving. I can't imagine what it was like to be in your shoes. I'm so happy you stayed strong and came back into my life, it's such a blessing. I know you are so much stronger now. I want to thank you for fighting through, just in case no one else has thanked you for that. I can't imagine what it would have been like if anything worse (I know it can't get much worse, so you know what worse is [murder or suicide]) had happened to you."

At that point I cried. I cried. I ugly cried. I'm crying right now just reading it again.

He thanked me for surviving. He thanked me for sticking around and not letting life kill me, not letting these assholes cause me enough pain that I end my own life. Not letting exfiance hurt me enough to kill me.

He thanked me for fighting.



Friends, if you have survived abusive relationships, sexual assault, rape, depression, suicide attempts, self-harm, traumas, or any other life-threatening struggles, thank you for fighting. It a struggle, day in and day out, but you are here. Know that, even your friends and family who don't know what you've been through, are grateful that you are still alive and fighting. They may have no clue you're even struggling, but someone somewhere (me included) is glad you're sticking around.

Thank you for still being here.

Legit Panic Attack

I was taking a shower today, after running around my house getting everything in it's place, when I started being bombarded with memories. Bad memories.

I started asking G-d, "Why me? What did I do? How is this my lot in life? Why do I have to deal with this? Why did you not just let me die?" etc., etc.

About two questions in, I could feel my heart pounding, breath getting shallow and quick, eyes went into tunnel vision. I felt like I was going to pass out, but I couldn't calm the anger and the hurt. The next 30 minutes consisted of me yelling, praying, sobbing, shaking, hyperventilating, and shaving my legs... all at the same time. How do I manage to be such a great multi-tasker? I have no idea.

I keep thinking about what I want to say, in case my reports ever go to trial. I want to say so much, but I know I will freeze on the stand and my brain will freeze if I begin to draft my victim impact statements now but boy, can I scream everything I need to say when I'm in the shower!

Exboyfriend's town called a couple days ago telling me they had gotten a report from College Town that I had been sexually assaulted (raped) in their town. College town had no jurisdiction in Exboyfriend's town and so it had to be transferred.

I've been dealing with that for a week. At first I was nervous about how this would effect him, then I remembered how much his actions have effected me and my whole life. He forever changed the course of my life with his poor choices that weekend. Oh, I wish I would have kicked him, fought him, and called the cops right then. Unfortunately, I was completely in shock. I was paralyzed and in a daze that whole weekend.

Because of Exboyfriend, I met Exfiance. He didn't introduce me, but I was going out a lot, looking for a good time to get away from the terrors living and replaying themselves in my head constantly.

It's crazy to think that one person can make you hate yourself. They can make you hate your body, your memory, your life, and hate the fact that you wake up each morning to fight another losing battle of a day. They can make you hate yourself enough that you stop feeding your body, you start taking pills, smoking, cutting, or otherwise abusing the very vessel that holds the essence of who you are. One person's choices can make you fight to not pick up the bottle, not down the pills, not pull the trigger, and not crash into a ditch.

So now, I am here. A shell of who I used to be. I can never me back. I can never have the same ability to see the best in people. I can never have the same easy smile and no assumptions that people are only out to hurt me. I can never feel pure, whole, and complete. I can never erase the memories. Who knows if I have some disease that I won't be able to get rid of in addition to the rest of it.

It makes me wonder why we, as a collective people, fight so hard to keep people from suicide. Not saying I would do it, but I understand what it is like for me to not want to wake up another day. Why do we insist on saving those who so clearly see no point in being here on this earth? Why do we call the police if someone is talking about suicide at home/work or place patients on a 72-hour hold at hospitals if they come to us saying they want to die? Why do we put people on antidepressants? Which can potentially make the suicidal ideations worse and help give the people enough energy to go through with the suicide. If people are so miserable with the hand they were dealt or produced for themselves, why are we holding them earth side?

This doesn't mean that I don't support getting professional help and trying to reach out to those having a hard time, but why make people live if they have no quality of life and are sick of being here? There is not a day that goes by that I don't wish that I could have helped Country Boy, but if there was a chance for him to have been able to reach out for help, he didn't extend that plea to me. He had a plan and he carried it out. For him, there was no use in living in a world without his dad. He had too much pain to bear on his own and he couldn't figure out how to share it. Meanwhile, I have a lot of pain (in my own opinion) and even with sharing it, I feel I am constantly drowning. Today, with my panic attack, it showed that my head is no longer staying above the water. The stress of reporting, painful memories, moving, not being able to work, having bills that I cannot pay, and stress I can't even describe is overwhelming me.

It's so hard to surrender your anxieties to the L-rd when your life is stripped from your grasp. It's so hard to ask for help when nobody can hear you from the depths of your chasm. I know I have no control over my life, but I feel like I'm in a car with a sleeping, drunk driver and the car is swerving on it's own. However, the ride sucks so badly I hope it crashes soon so that the drive will come to an end, I don't even care about making it to wherever I thought we were headed.

Bad Dreams

I know that when I am stressed, my depression is exacerbated and nightmares are expected. This is fairly common among all people because dreaming is a way for your brain to process various life circumstances.

That leads us to last night's nightmare...

I was being chased by exfiance and he found out the new place that I live. I managed to stay hidden from him, but he kept coming by my new house, ringing the doorbell, and knocking on all the windows. He followed me in exboyfriend's truck, actually. Why the cross between both assholes? I have no idea. Also, in my dream we were not actually at my new house but I was dreaming that I was living at one of my Uncle's houses in the country... Anyway, I was leaving my house trying to drive away, but that's when he actually saw me. He tracked me down and eventually I was running on foot. I called the cops and they wouldn't answer. I tried to get friends to keep him there so that I could call the cops, but every time I dialed 9-1-1 I pressed the wrong buttons or extra buttons or whatever. I couldn't call the police! He found out I was calling them and so he drove away, but not before he tried to take me with him. My new friends stepped in and saved me, he got frustrated and drove off without me.

Eventually he came back. He kept following me. He told me that I missed him and that he didn't understand why I would try to call the police because I love him. I yelled at him and told him he was pure evil and the only person that I have ever hated in my life. I flipped him off a couple times but he just laughed. He grabbed me in a hug and tried to kiss me.

The dream continued, but I can't remember the rest of it. Then my dad called (in real life) and woke me up so the dream ended.



Ugh, I left Home State in hopes that I would feel safer here. I did up until a couple days ago when I saw a truck awfully similar to his. It wasn't his truck and on second glance didn't even really look like his, but it still freaked me out. I had to do a double take but I was driving and that's not safe.

So, for those of you dealing with trauma, I'm sorry. I pray that you don't have days like this, though I know you probably do. I pray for justice for us, thought justice will never right the wrong that has been done. Most of all, I pray for peace.

In the days after the shooting at the night club in Orlando, I can't help but be sad with an understanding heart of how difficult PTSD is. My heart breaks for those that were killed, but my heart also breaks for those that witnessed it and the families that now how to figure out how to go about living after the evil committed that night. It sucks for those that were killed, but for those of us that are left living after a tragedy like this, it is harder. When you die, I'm not certain you know you are dead. I'm fairly certain you don't feel pain in the same capacity, hopefully not even at all. I don't know, I haven't died yet... Regardless, I know the pain of being one of the ones left to survive. Of course, I only know the pain I've felt and for the families and victims still living, their pain will be different and arguably worse in many respects.

For anyone who has suffered traumatic events or loss: I am sorry for your losses. Losses of loved ones, loss of life, loss of the sense of safety, loss of mental wellness (hopefully only temporary), loss of self (hopefully only temporary).

There was a hostage situation somewhere in Texas and the guy ended up getting shot and killed, as far as I know.

People need to chill out. Stop causing harm to others! Stop killing others! Stop attacking, assaulting, and otherwise fucking up other people's lives! Calm the fuck down. Everyone.

Until later... I pray I'll have good news next time I post.

No Kiss

I don't believe I told you guys about the one boy I met a few months ago. We've been on three dates, and he asked for a fourth.

Yes, I met him online. I was terrified, as I should have been, to meet him. He offered to make it a group date, but that ended up being too difficult to figure out with everyone's schedules, so we settled for meeting at a huge local hunting/outdoorsman store. Actually, it was Bass Pro, to be exact.

So, just know, I know how dumb it is to meet a guy from the internet. When Roomie put me on the internet dating site, I had had about 3 "Bedpan Alley" strength daiquiris which means about 2-3x the "recommended" alcohol dosage. Don't worry, I'm almost a nurse, it's fine. ;)

I was tipsy and crying about them fuckers I dated for the entirety of 2015. She told me to give her my computer and my phone. Naturally, being that far gone but still coherent, I did as she asked with minimal questioning on my part. She told me it would be fun.

Well, fast forward about 2 days, and it was great amounts of fun! I could say guys were cute (which I still have a hard time processing because I don't understand why they are cute... science help me!). Anyway, guys were saying I was cute too and I was getting tons of matches! I was talking with like 12 guys at one point, and just listening to their stories. Plus, when I didn't like one of them or they were being inappropriate, I could yell at them over the texting thing and it felt great! I didn't blame them for things that the exes did, unless they did them to me too, but then boy howdy! It was one of the most empowering and uplifting things I had done in a long time. Yes, it was based mostly off superficial looks, but I had been convinced my whole life (especially by exfiance) that I was ugly and nobody wanted me. Well, the online dating showed me he was a liar!!! I had loads of guys matching with me, and even more guys liked me but I didn't like them back for some reason so we didn't match. Regardless, these guys thought I was cute, then they learned I like working on cars and they liked that even more! They learned I was a nursing student and oh my goodness, I swear a couple would have proposed right there. Haha, just kidding.

Anyway, back to the guy I actually met. We talked for about a month before I decided to meet him. He's been really cool about understanding that I need to drive myself. He has a beard, drives a truck, and his mom is a DON for one of the local mental hospitals. I know, psych nursing, but hey, I actually really like psych nursing and I think it's impressive she's a DON!

For our last date, we met for breakfast. Interesting date, but I really liked it! We've had weird dates. Well, I picked them... if that tells you anything... The first one, we went to Bass Pro, walked to a dinner place near it, then drove separately to pet puppies at the pet store together because I refuse to get into another guy's car/truck. The second date consisted of meeting for happy hour at a restaurant near my college. Afterwards, we walked over to the costco and wandered around in there because I had had one too many margaritas... Then we hit up the pet store, but there were no pets except for some fish and a variety of rodents. The third was lunch at Chick-fil-a, then he helped me go pick out decorations for my graduation cap at a fabric store. Yeah, I was shocked a guy would volunteer to go with me to that too! Then, our final one was just breakfast at this really cute diner with a cabin theme and little bear figures everywhere. Adorable!

At the end of our final date, he gave me the normal hug. We had discussed at the beginning that before he ever went for my hand or went in for a hug, or touched me at all (even on the shoulder), he just has to ask me if that's okay first so that I don't freak out. Then he asked, "should I ask before I kiss you?" To which I responded, "yes, please." and he accepted that. He opened my door and I sat down but we were still talking. He then asked, "do you ever get the feeling you want to do something, but if you do it it might be the wrong thing to do?" I told him I didn't. He then leaned in and tried to kiss me! Oh no! That poor kid, he didn't believe me when I told him I was messed up and probably a bad idea. Well, I slammed my head back and tucked my chin so that he couldn't reach me. He asked, "do you want to?" I shook my head no and he kissed me on the cheek and gave me a hug. Then he said sorry and I said it was okay. That was it. He apologized a bunch more over text and I told him not to worry about it and I thanked him for respecting my no. Then, I gave a short and sweet explanation as to why I didn't kiss him and why I was so appreciative. I think this made him feel a little bit bad, but when similar things happened with the exes, they just pulled me closer and forced a kiss. So many of our kisses were forced.

Crazy the things that come to mind after a relationship ends and the gravity of the situation finally hits you. Well, I know how hard it hits me. It's crazy that a forced kiss can be considered sexual assault. Yet, in my mind, it doesn't seem "that bad" because of the unspeakable things they both forced on me. Strange how my scale of seriousness has changed so much after my traumas.

Someday I pray to find my Boaz. Maybe I'm meant to remain alone and care for those who don't have parents, family, or friends. I don't know. I pray for a Boaz, but for the time being, it's easy to be single. Hey, I even get baby snuggles without going through pregnancy, without having to be married, and without having to take them home!!! I get to care for babies and teach them how to eat and get them ready to go home and I will get to get paid for it. Praise you L-rd for giving me the desires you've placed in my heart.

Spam Emails

On a very short, completely unrelated note to anything else I normally talk about...

I've been getting a lot of spam emails to an account my exfiance tries to contact me on. What do you think the chances are that he's giving my email out just to fuck with me and make me get a bunch of spam? I don't give out that email anymore.

Some days I wish I would have never met exBF or exfiance. Those fuckers ruined my life, permanently. But you know what? I'm doing my best to rebuild it so that they would never recognize me and they won't be able to find me! I'm living a real-life nightmare.

Never in a million years would I have guessed I would be here, but here I am, doing the best I can with what I've been given. And hey, some would even say I've gone from merely surviving, to learning how to begin thriving.

Y'all keep strong. Life's 100% terminal, though some days that's not helpful.

Life Goes On

I survived both/all three? first year anniversaries from my assaults. I write both, because it was over two days. I put three, because there were three assaults.

Anywho, I survived them. Yesterday was hard, but I made myself eat (dinner...), I used my essential oils, I had a glass of wine, Roomie and I made a list of 10 reasons why I am better off without exboyfriend, I bought myself flowers, and I skipped the class I could (peds) and did the things I absolutely had to do (world religions). Then, after all that, I woke up this morning. I may have struggled yesterday, and today, but now my two days of anniversaries are done and life will go on for awhile longer... unfortunately.

Today in counseling, we discussed how I probably don't need to be going in very much anymore. I'm cutting down to once a week next week. I know that counseling is only supposed to be temporary, to get you able to survive in life alone again, but I'm sad that this season is coming to a close. Counselor asked what else I felt like I needed to work on and I couldn't think of anything. I mentioned self-esteem, but we determined I am way better in that department than I was ever before in my life... I brought up rational thought and confidence, and we determined I was growing well in those areas as well... I'm becoming more assertive, setting boundaries, and I'm learning how to cope with my traumatic past. She told me she thinks I'm graduated from PTSD to post-traumatic growth. Look it up, I guess it's a real thing.

I saw it mentioned on some documentary that I woke up to, because I sleep with my television on. The psychiatrist on the documentary was saying that post-traumatic growth is being able to be better than baseline after your healing begins after a trauma.

So, imagine your life at baseline. You have a traumatic event and it plummets you past the deepest valley you could ever imagine for yourself. You are suspected to be in post-traumatic growth when you slowly work back up to your baseline (before your trauma) but then somehow surpass that level.

I was reading somewhere online that mentioned that post-traumatic growth can be suspected (that sounds negative, but it's actually a really good thing) when: you find joy in the smaller things in life, stressful things don't phase you as much, you can reflect on your traumatic experiences and they don't completely floor you, you are happy again or happier than you were before (because you understand the value of life), and there were others but I cannot find the article nor can I fully remember. But, whatever the points were, I met them all!

Yes, each day is still full of triggers and many days are a huge struggle, but I get through them and don't stay in bed all day! I am beginning to look forward for my future again, and I am beginning to forgive myself and understand that I could have done nothing to make the situation better. It wasn't my fault. This understanding is still very much a struggle most days, but I'm believing it more days than not.

I have a hope. I have a future. I have a life to live and people to prove wrong. I have guys to give the biggest middle finger to of living a life they told me I could never live.

Counselor and I discussed how I feel guilty but also relieved to say that I hate these guys. I hate what they did to me. I hate that they ruined my life. I hate that they have no traumatic aftermath and I have no permanent healing ever, for the rest of my life!

These fuckers destroyed my life, fucked up my brain, invaded my body in the most brutal of ways, and my life will never be the same. I'll never be innocent again. I will never get back what they stole. There is a good chance I will never get justice.

So, living my life the way they told me I never could is my best payback. L-rd, give me a loving, kind, gracious, wonderful husband that shows me the way ladies and people are supposed to be loved! L-rd, provide me with the sweetest, most beautiful, kind, smart, wonderful, blessed children! L-rd, bless me in my nursing career and pave the way for me wherever I may go! Open doors that I never dreamed were possible, even when I was completely "pure" and not polluted by the pure evil these assholes forced upon me. L-rd, show Satan that he does not win by blessing my life and allowing me to live ridiculously joyfully and happy for the rest of my life! L-rd, redeem me and give me justice! Most of all, L-rd, do not turn your back on me. Do not leave me or forget me. Remember the things I've had to survive and give me years of peach, joy, happiness, excitement (only good excitement), love, contentment, and absolute bliss.

Baruch HaShem! Bless you L-rd for all you've done for me so far and heal my heart, my body, and my mind oh L-rd.

Painful Memories

Tomorrow marks the anniversary of ex-boyfriend's first assault on me. A year ago, I was excited on this night. It was a Friday, I believe and I was probably at his new house watching a movie with him. Actually, he went to bed early so we were probably back in his bed, falling asleep or already sleeping by now.

He didn't try to touch me this night. I was still blissfully ignorant of the danger lurking within him.

The most he probably did was try to grab my butt or my boobs while he made out with me. I was uncomfortable sleeping in his bed, but he wouldn't let me sleep out on the couch. I was also dumb enough to believe that sleeping over would be okay. I was naive enough to believe that I was safe with him.



I've been wrestling with terrible thoughts in my head. For as long as I can remember, I was told to love those who hurt you and hate nobody but Satan.

I've been struggling to wrap my head around the evil that was done to my body and the fact that these guys think that they did nothing wrong.

I have been struggling to keep my mind from saying that "I hate them."

I hate what they've done to me. I hate that they have no fucking clue that my life is ruined. I hate that if the news ever got out that they did these things to me, nobody will believe me and they will blame me for making up stories. I hate that the law is on their side in this backwards legal system. I hate that they will likely have no punishment because what could potentially happen in the best case scenario for me or worst case scenario for them? NOTHING! Absolutely, fucking nothing.

Justice is bullshit. The legal system is not working for victims, it helps nobody but those who have broken the law. So, what's the point in reporting? There is none.


I'm so fucking over this shit. I can't sleep. My mind is being bombarded with the evil acts these assholes have done to me. The only comfort I have is absolutely nothing. There is no comfort. There is no justice. There is nothing I, or anyone, can do to right these wrongs.

L-rd, give me peace and comfort in the coming months as all of my anniversaries come to bombard me and swallow me whole. Quiet my heart and give me restful sleep. Allow me to somehow forget these evil guys. Somehow, in the coming judgement, bring me justice, oh L-rd. Give me something to tell me that the suffering I have unfortunately survived this last year is not in vain. Oh L-rd, redeem me and punish those who have wronged me and invaded my body. Ad-nai, forgive my past trangressions and remember what has happened. L-rd, remember those who love you and deliver me from the evil bestowed upon me.

Why was this given to me? What did I do that warranted that type of punishment? Or, what kind of sick test was that?!? WHY???



Ironically, tomorrow's pediatric lecture is on childhood abuse and will most likely mention sexual assault because that seems to be a popular topic in that stupid class. As such, I am not going. I refuse to go. The peds instructor makes sick jokes about rape, suicide, abuse, and other "hot button" topics that immediately make me cry. How will I handle such topics from now on? I will just refuse to go to class! Fuck you, lady. L-rd willing, you've never lived through these terrible things. As someone who survived multiple suicide attempts, is living through grieving a friend's suicide, having been abused by boyfriends, and raped by two separate guys on numerous occasions, YOU HAVE NO PLACE TO TALK!!!

No decent person makes jokes about abuse, rape, or suicide. Don't fuck with those topics. If you have to talk about them, and I think it's important to discuss them, then you treat them with the respect and seriousness they deserve. Get people who are experts and who are tender to the issues to come and teach the lecture, if that is required.

Don't fucking mess with me and don't tell me you know when you don't lady (peds professor and Jersey.)

Some of you, out there in the blog-o-sphere, unfortunately understand the pain of living through traumatic events. Though we have not lived the same life, I am sorry for your suffering. We can't fully comprehend each others pain and journey, but I know what it is like to live my trauma and I am sorry for anyone who has to live through their own. For anything you've been through, I am, from the bottom of my heart, sorry.

For those of you who haven't, I am so very glad that you haven't. I do not wish this on anyone. Having said that, please do not tell those of us who are survivors of trauma that you know what we are going through. If you say anything, tell us that you are sorry and then slap that pity look right off your face. We don't need pity. We are still a person, just like anyone else. Unfortunately, we were dealt a hand in life where we were forced to be a bit stronger than the average person. That does not mean we need pity. Giving us that fucking pity look and babying us after we tell you only makes the situation worse. Don't distance yourself from us or treat us differently besides avoiding the triggers we ask you to avoid. Besides that, treat us normally, but silently give us more patience as we heal.

Another Up

I had the best day in I don't know how long today.

I got a gift card to Chick-fil-a, my favorite eating establishment, as of right now.

Took a test in peds, and I think it went well. They're all group tests because the professor was failing to many students. I got with two really smart friends and they agreed to be my buddies for our final as well!

I got out of class several hours early, so Roomie and I (we carpool) went to Chick-fil-a for lunch.

As we were waiting in line there, I got a call from an unknown number. It was my Great Aunt offering me a NICU job at her hospital!!! So, I'm moving in a couple months, once we figure out what day I start. Guys, G-d gave me a job!!! Plus, I get to move.

In my religions class on Monday afternoons, we had a Jewish rabbi from one of the loval military bases come and talk to us. He just happens to know my mom and my Rabbi so I was already excited. He was such an amazing speaker and I feel like he was the mouthpiece to G-d giving me grace and contentment with myself. For so long I've dealt with guilt around what has happened to me and I feel terrible for not loving the guys that hurt me the way I've been taught to "love everyone". He explained the Jewish perspective that you don't have to love each individual. You treat them with respect and don't intentionally harm them for no reason, but G-d is a Just G-d and He wants fairness as a baseline for life. It does not make me mean, or resentful, or someone who is trying to pay them back by reporting them. It is okay to report them. Then to forgive them for my own sake, not for theirs.

After being stoked about all of that, I went grocery shopping and there were a few cute guys there :) I'm not going for anything, but I had a little make-up on today and I feel like I was more confident than I've been in the past.

I made dinner for Roomie and I tonight and I made my first lasagna (first by myself, without my mom) tonight so we'll have dinner ready to go for tomorrow!!!

Yeah, I'm winning at adulting today.

Jersey did text me and invited me to go out with her and a couple of her friends. She wants to meet with me to "patch things up" because we were "close friends". I might be crazy, but we weren't close. She didn't share her life with me, she just wanted to ask for all of the juicy details of my life. I told her we could talk and kept my replies short. She asked if it was okay that we fix things so that we can have a great rest of our senior year. I told her we could talk, but I have no plans on patching it up. My life has been so much more drama-free without having to worry about her. I go talk to Counselor tomorrow and I think I'm going to ask to role-play.




Oh, and about my birthday...

It went really well. Poor Roomie walked into my room the night before my birthday and I was crying. She started freaking out. The next morning, I was up at 0800 with her! I was shocked myself, but she made the day great. We went shopping (caught a lot of really good sales), saw puppies, had lunch, went for a hike with her dog, then we went out dancing with just a couple of my closer friends. Amazing day! Low-key, not many people knew it was my birthday. Some of the friends I have been close with all three years didn't come, but I didn't even care because I had a select few that were able to come out and have a good time with me.

My brother's roommate called me, because they were hanging out at Brother's apartment, and I asked them to do a shot for Country Boy. To my surprise, Brother got all 5 guys to do a shot! No, probably not the best to be condoning alcohol, but it meant a lot to me that Brother is being so sweet and supportive about something he doesn't understand. However, he's sat with me as I cried at the grave, I think he's starting to see the pain I've hidden from him for so long. He knew what had happened, but I try to not harp on it too much because he didn't used to be so receptive. I think he's starting to put together the pieces and he's getting much better at supporting me. I'm also getting better at being better to him and more of what he needs from a sister.

When we finally got home, the dog had to pee. I offered to take her out since Roomie had been my DD and it was about 0200. I finished the little loop and there were a couple guys my age headed up the stairs to their apartment. One asked to pet the dog and asked what breed. I shrugged, because I couldn't place the name of the breed with my brain a little slower than normal... He laughed and we got to talking for a couple minutes. Roomie came out to check on me and it turns out they had been at the same little karaoke place we had been at! They shook our hands and introduced themselves and invited us out sometime! Now, we all know that'll probably not happen. However, it's nice to feel noticed and to feel like guys think I'm cute.


I'm trying to stay positive in this post, because I really want to highlight the joys that come in life, even if few and far-between. The reason it is so shocking to me to feel cute and confident, is because I did not ever have that to begin with. Then, when I started dating exboyfriend, it didn't take much for him to make me feel better than I ever had, so I stayed with him even after I wanted to leave because I didn't think anyone else would notice me. With exfiance, he started with flattery and tried to make me feel good at first, then as time went on he started implanting that I was not pretty, not smart, nothing that would be desired by anyone but him. With that negative message from someone I thought I loved, how is it possible to not end up believing you're worthless and undesirable?

My confidence is slowly building. I am strong, I am caring, I am worth loving. I will be a nurse someday, who will extend the love and compassion others need because I know what it is to need extreme amounts of both. I am growing, developing, moving on, and I will continue to be a soft heart in this hell of a life because others do not deserve the terrible things that have happened to me. I am beautiful, smart, funny, sweet, caring, loyal, and deserving of a life in which happiness and joy are experienced. I am worthy regardless of what has been done to me and what I have survived. I have a story that is worthy of being told and I do not have to be a doormat any longer.

This is one of my stronger days and self-affirmations begin now.

I am worthy. I am strong. I have survived and I am on my way to thriving.