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.
Showing posts with label EXfiance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label EXfiance. Show all posts
Thursday, February 14, 2019
Friday, April 6, 2018
"This Was Supposed to Happen"
Ever since my first instance of sexual abuse, I have begun to take "encouragement" from people differently. I have struggled with things they intend as being caring, and often become angry. While I try to listen and accept what they are saying with grace, there is often misinformation and ignorance behind these words.
One of the worst offenses for me comes with the phrases:
"G-d meant for this to happen."
"He only gives certain things to people that He knows can handle it."
"This was meant to be a way to help shape you for further life purposes."
{fill in from your experiences}
While I agree that G-d can bring forth beauty from ashes and healing from unimaginable pain, I truly do not believe that He causes things like trauma to happen.
Often, I have heard from pastors, rabbis, teachers, and mentors that G-d does not cause bad things to happen. Yet, in the very next week's sermon, they teach about how G-d causes things to happen so that you might be taught lessons and these just so happen to occur as hard times, traumatic instances, and sins.
These two separate teachings sound like contradictions to me.
He might allow them to happen, but He does not cause them to happen. G-d cannot cause sin to occur, nor does He tempt us. He does not cause traumatic instances, death, or destruction to occur. It's not who He is! G-d is wholly good, ALL of the time. Isn't that what we are taught from the same stage that is instructing us that we screwed up to allow devastation befall us?
With this argument that G-d does not cause bad things, my mind is drawn to the story of Job. G-d did not cause Job's children to die. Nor did G-d cause Job's servants and livestock to perish. G-d did not steal away Job''s wealth, happiness, health, or destroy his life. What we see in this story is something that continues to shock me and cause turmoil, because G-d essentially allowed Satan to have full control over the circumstances befalling Job. Then factor in that this occurs in what seems to be a BET of Job's faithfulness. However, G-d did not cause a single thing to happen to Job, only Satan did that. G-d allowed it all to happen, within very precise boundaries that He gave Satan.
I don't know about you, but it bothers me to my core that G-d does not completely protect us. However, He does only allow things to happen to us that He knows we can bear. Still, HE DOES NOT CAUSE US HARM!!!
Am I getting my point across?
This is why, when people tell me that G-d only gives us what we can handle, and He meant for us to go through certain traumas, it is incredibly offensive to me. In these times, the words coming out of their mouths are telling me that G-d chose my abuser, gave him the idea to sexually assault and rape me, and that all of this was in His (G-d's) plan for my life.
THAT'S TOTAL CRAP!
It is not the picture we are given in the Bible. It is not the teachings that are given from the mouth of G-d. And I completely understand why people walk away from G-d after traumatic life happenings, if these are the only things they are taught about G-d!
I understand that people do not say these "encouraging" things out of malice, or hatred, or from a place of trying to harm others. However, it is still not G-dly encouragement nor is it truth. I get that my personal offense is taken, basically, due to an issue with semantics and the way these leaders and teachers use their words. Not all survivors are able to process the sermons in this way, though, and so they simply hear that their abuse was their fault according to religion and religious leaders. How can anyone come into the healing and peace of G-d if they believe G-d caused them this anguish and that He and His people hold the survivor at fault for what has happened?
Recently I watched a video of a pastor telling people not to ask "Why me L-rd?" He recounts a sermon he had taught about brokenness, trials, and life struggles. He encourages his flock to not ask G-d "why me" when going through seasons of difficulty because G-d chose them for that difficulty. That He uses these things to teach people how to be people that G-d needs them to be. While I appreciate the heart and meaning behind this message, I think we often get trauma mixed up with seasons of teaching and the trials that are meant to teach us things. No wonder there is so much shame in the body of believers! This teachings tells survivors of horrendous evils that it was their fault that a particular thing happened because: they weren't strong enough, G-d wanted something bad to happen to them, they weren't good enough, their life is destined to be a life of pain, and they deserved the things that happened to them. Along side them (teachers, pastors, etc), and often reinforcing the teaching of these things, are people who have not necessarily been through such traumas.
Sometimes G-d does want to teach us things, but sometimes Satan plants an idea in somebody's mind and they carry out an evil act against another. The key here is to not get the 2 mixed up, and to allow people to come forward freely to talk about their pains, seasons of struggling, traumatic experiences, what they've survived, and what they are going through.
The other thing that really bugged me about this particular pastor's teaching, is that he is essentially cutting off a major form of intimacy and communication with our creator. When looking at the story of Job, Daniel, David, the disciples, Naomi, Ruth, Esther, and countless others, we see them questioning the circumstances and teachings in their lives. QUESTIONING DOES NOT NECESSARILY NEGATE FAITH!
We all wonder why things happen. We wonder why G-d allows certain things to take place and we question the meaning of our lives. When we are able to bring our questions about life and life events to the One who is overseeing all that happens, even in our deepest most intimate places, we are able to hope for answers.
We will not always get answers, and we aren't always supposed to. But sometimes, G-d gives us an answer, an explanation, or He allows us to see how His hand is playing a part in our life. For me, I am beginning to see how my ability to empathize with others has grown exponentially because of what I've experienced. I am learning that what I say matters and the patterns I see in my life have value to others that are on journeys to healing, as I still am. I am learning how to better walk beside people near me in their lives and struggles and to offer encouragement and friendly "counseling" (more of a listening ear). My heart has softened to the pain of others. I have moved from a place of sympathy to a place of empathy to a place of wanting to ease other's burdens, if by merely being a presence while they walk a very difficult path.
Personally, I still wrestle with G-d and ask Him why I was allowed to be abused, assaulted, raped, and cast aside. I ask Him why I was taught about life in the ways that I was, as a child. I question why I was allowed to be so traumatized, when I simply lived life according to the rules I was taught in church and what I believed He had taught me thus far. Why He didn't intervene in any of the countless times I was taken advantage of, held down, coerced, manipulated, and otherwise hurt. I also inquire as to why He didn't allow these guys to be persecuted when I went to the police. Why the judge decided exfiance wasn't dangerous enough to get a restraining order against to keep me safer and on the spectrum of being able to have police backup should he breech my boundaries (which he has many times since).
I don't think I will ever get answers for these things. However, I have not been punished for asking them. G-d allowed me to wrestle with Him, to yell and fight and punch and get it all out. Then He held me in His arms and allowed me to have peace. He gave me peace. He brought me close to His heart. After all of my fighting was through, even my fighting against Him, He drew near to me. In this place, I was given peace for the first time in years. It's a process though, I couldn't have been given peace without having been able to fight and yell and scream and wrestle with Him. It wouldn't have been the same, I wouldn't have the same understanding.
He doesn't cause bad things to happen to us and He doesn't require that we always follow with blind faith without asking questions. Just look to the Bible. Sometimes people were asked to follow "strange" instructions while being given no answers, but they asked questions. They didn't lose faith, but we are questioning in nature, that's how G-d created us. So, I think He can handle the inquiries we make of Him.
One of the worst offenses for me comes with the phrases:
"G-d meant for this to happen."
"He only gives certain things to people that He knows can handle it."
"This was meant to be a way to help shape you for further life purposes."
{fill in from your experiences}
While I agree that G-d can bring forth beauty from ashes and healing from unimaginable pain, I truly do not believe that He causes things like trauma to happen.
Often, I have heard from pastors, rabbis, teachers, and mentors that G-d does not cause bad things to happen. Yet, in the very next week's sermon, they teach about how G-d causes things to happen so that you might be taught lessons and these just so happen to occur as hard times, traumatic instances, and sins.
These two separate teachings sound like contradictions to me.
He might allow them to happen, but He does not cause them to happen. G-d cannot cause sin to occur, nor does He tempt us. He does not cause traumatic instances, death, or destruction to occur. It's not who He is! G-d is wholly good, ALL of the time. Isn't that what we are taught from the same stage that is instructing us that we screwed up to allow devastation befall us?
With this argument that G-d does not cause bad things, my mind is drawn to the story of Job. G-d did not cause Job's children to die. Nor did G-d cause Job's servants and livestock to perish. G-d did not steal away Job''s wealth, happiness, health, or destroy his life. What we see in this story is something that continues to shock me and cause turmoil, because G-d essentially allowed Satan to have full control over the circumstances befalling Job. Then factor in that this occurs in what seems to be a BET of Job's faithfulness. However, G-d did not cause a single thing to happen to Job, only Satan did that. G-d allowed it all to happen, within very precise boundaries that He gave Satan.
I don't know about you, but it bothers me to my core that G-d does not completely protect us. However, He does only allow things to happen to us that He knows we can bear. Still, HE DOES NOT CAUSE US HARM!!!
Am I getting my point across?
This is why, when people tell me that G-d only gives us what we can handle, and He meant for us to go through certain traumas, it is incredibly offensive to me. In these times, the words coming out of their mouths are telling me that G-d chose my abuser, gave him the idea to sexually assault and rape me, and that all of this was in His (G-d's) plan for my life.
THAT'S TOTAL CRAP!
It is not the picture we are given in the Bible. It is not the teachings that are given from the mouth of G-d. And I completely understand why people walk away from G-d after traumatic life happenings, if these are the only things they are taught about G-d!
I understand that people do not say these "encouraging" things out of malice, or hatred, or from a place of trying to harm others. However, it is still not G-dly encouragement nor is it truth. I get that my personal offense is taken, basically, due to an issue with semantics and the way these leaders and teachers use their words. Not all survivors are able to process the sermons in this way, though, and so they simply hear that their abuse was their fault according to religion and religious leaders. How can anyone come into the healing and peace of G-d if they believe G-d caused them this anguish and that He and His people hold the survivor at fault for what has happened?
Recently I watched a video of a pastor telling people not to ask "Why me L-rd?" He recounts a sermon he had taught about brokenness, trials, and life struggles. He encourages his flock to not ask G-d "why me" when going through seasons of difficulty because G-d chose them for that difficulty. That He uses these things to teach people how to be people that G-d needs them to be. While I appreciate the heart and meaning behind this message, I think we often get trauma mixed up with seasons of teaching and the trials that are meant to teach us things. No wonder there is so much shame in the body of believers! This teachings tells survivors of horrendous evils that it was their fault that a particular thing happened because: they weren't strong enough, G-d wanted something bad to happen to them, they weren't good enough, their life is destined to be a life of pain, and they deserved the things that happened to them. Along side them (teachers, pastors, etc), and often reinforcing the teaching of these things, are people who have not necessarily been through such traumas.
Sometimes G-d does want to teach us things, but sometimes Satan plants an idea in somebody's mind and they carry out an evil act against another. The key here is to not get the 2 mixed up, and to allow people to come forward freely to talk about their pains, seasons of struggling, traumatic experiences, what they've survived, and what they are going through.
The other thing that really bugged me about this particular pastor's teaching, is that he is essentially cutting off a major form of intimacy and communication with our creator. When looking at the story of Job, Daniel, David, the disciples, Naomi, Ruth, Esther, and countless others, we see them questioning the circumstances and teachings in their lives. QUESTIONING DOES NOT NECESSARILY NEGATE FAITH!
We all wonder why things happen. We wonder why G-d allows certain things to take place and we question the meaning of our lives. When we are able to bring our questions about life and life events to the One who is overseeing all that happens, even in our deepest most intimate places, we are able to hope for answers.
We will not always get answers, and we aren't always supposed to. But sometimes, G-d gives us an answer, an explanation, or He allows us to see how His hand is playing a part in our life. For me, I am beginning to see how my ability to empathize with others has grown exponentially because of what I've experienced. I am learning that what I say matters and the patterns I see in my life have value to others that are on journeys to healing, as I still am. I am learning how to better walk beside people near me in their lives and struggles and to offer encouragement and friendly "counseling" (more of a listening ear). My heart has softened to the pain of others. I have moved from a place of sympathy to a place of empathy to a place of wanting to ease other's burdens, if by merely being a presence while they walk a very difficult path.
Personally, I still wrestle with G-d and ask Him why I was allowed to be abused, assaulted, raped, and cast aside. I ask Him why I was taught about life in the ways that I was, as a child. I question why I was allowed to be so traumatized, when I simply lived life according to the rules I was taught in church and what I believed He had taught me thus far. Why He didn't intervene in any of the countless times I was taken advantage of, held down, coerced, manipulated, and otherwise hurt. I also inquire as to why He didn't allow these guys to be persecuted when I went to the police. Why the judge decided exfiance wasn't dangerous enough to get a restraining order against to keep me safer and on the spectrum of being able to have police backup should he breech my boundaries (which he has many times since).
I don't think I will ever get answers for these things. However, I have not been punished for asking them. G-d allowed me to wrestle with Him, to yell and fight and punch and get it all out. Then He held me in His arms and allowed me to have peace. He gave me peace. He brought me close to His heart. After all of my fighting was through, even my fighting against Him, He drew near to me. In this place, I was given peace for the first time in years. It's a process though, I couldn't have been given peace without having been able to fight and yell and scream and wrestle with Him. It wouldn't have been the same, I wouldn't have the same understanding.
He doesn't cause bad things to happen to us and He doesn't require that we always follow with blind faith without asking questions. Just look to the Bible. Sometimes people were asked to follow "strange" instructions while being given no answers, but they asked questions. They didn't lose faith, but we are questioning in nature, that's how G-d created us. So, I think He can handle the inquiries we make of Him.
Friday, March 23, 2018
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?
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?
Tuesday, January 2, 2018
"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.
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.
Saturday, December 2, 2017
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:
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.
Sunday, November 5, 2017
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.
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.
Sunday, August 13, 2017
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?
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?
Thursday, May 25, 2017
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.
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.
Saturday, May 6, 2017
Imposter Syndrome
For as long as I can remember, I have felt out of place. I'm out of place working in the NICU, in school, in Small Town, in Home Town, among "friends", with my own family (especially extended family). I know I'm not the only one, but it's highly unsettling to feel like you don't belong anywhere.
Well, it hit me like a freight train last night at a small family gathering I attended to celebrate a few family birthdays. I show up and I know most everybody there, but a couple of my very own cousins are people I've never met before. THEY'RE MY OWN AGE!!! How have I not met them before??? Doesn't matter, I don't belong here anyway. The family that is so tight-knit here all lived in this town for a couple decades now. I've only been here for about 10 months. Of course I'm not going to be used to this side of the family because they never came up to Home State for anything, so we only saw them on the rare occasion that my little nuclear family made it down to Small Town. This, was not a frequent even because my dad despises it down here and doesn't like this side of the family (his side, btw). Sigh.
I mentioned that my Mema's sister is the DON for my floor of the hospital right? She's the one who let me come and shadow in L&D and NICU throughout college and then offered me a NICU position. Well, seeing as she's my boss, I have decided to not really mention that I am looking for employment else where. Who in their right mind would? Unfortunately, I may have mentioned to Mema that I was applying to a local nursing program in order to work as a clinical instructor or professor aide. I'm a fucking idiot for doing such a foolish thing. Last night at the dinner, which just so happened to be at Mema's Sister's house, Mema decided it would be a good conversation to bring up that I was applying for this university position. WHY ON EARTH WOULD THIS SEEM LIKE A GOOD CONVERSATION TO HAVE AT A FAMILY GET-TOGETHER??? AND WITH MY BOSS???!!!??? I get that they are sisters and there was a lul in the conversation, but that's not Mema's information to be sharing and that is not an appropriate time!
Mema keeps calling my mom "to visit" and check in on her. Fine, that's expected. However, she also keeps making things up about me and my life in order to be discussing it with my mom during said "visits". I recently shared slight concern over lack of days that I get to work, so she called my mom almost immediately and told my mom that "I am very worried about work, worried sick!". My mom, being my best buddy and knowing that we don't believe everything we hear, texted me with said information. I then got to reassure my mom that I am not super concerned, more peeved than anything, and I reiterated that she (Mom) and I had already discussed my lack of hours and next career choices in depth. She, of course, already knew all of these things because I call my Mom pretty much every day. But why does that seem like news that would be Mema's place to share? It's not! This is why I don't tell her secrets or anything that is of any worth, she spreads it to everyone, degrades me and complains about me to the whole family, then gets upset when I don't live at her house, spend every free moment with her, and want to move away from her town. I can feel my blood pressure rising just recounting the various other times this type of situation has come up with her.
She told my mom that I was considering moving to a Huge Southern City to go to midwifery school, then proceeded to bash said city to mom. Not her place to share such info, especially when I was telling her things like "I might go back to school, such and such place has a pretty good program, it wouldn't be for another few years... etc... etc... etc..." What happened? Mema called mom and told her I was planning to move ASAP and was unhappy here in Small Town and went on to say she (Mema) regretted ever talking me into coming down here."
I told you about her meeting with exfiance where she sent my mom a text disowning me and telling my mom that I was pretty much a failure, right? She also sent me a hatemail letter informing my family she would never go camping again (because that's where I introduced her to exfiance, stupid choice on my behalf I know). She then got upset with me for not wanting to live with her (she told my mom in the text that I was uninvited from staying at her house anyway) and she got PISSED when nobody wanted to go camping with her this summer, myself included. Duh! You told my family that you wouldn't ever go camping with us again because I'm such a fucking failure at life!!! I get that exfiance was evil to the core and terrible to everyone. However, do you not remember that you married not one, but 2 of them??? Why would you not help me out of a bad situation by being there for me instead of disowning me and spreading rumors behind my back to my entire family (extended and immediate) so that I now have nobody but my parents and my brother? (my dad doesn't even know what happened still).
Some days I wish I was born into a family who was closer to the cousins, grandparents, and entire family. Those days are few and fleeting. After most family gatherings/functions, I recall the simpleness that comes from having the closest family members 2-8 hours away and I count it a blessing to not have an Everybody Loves Raymond situation going on. Small Town got me close to being Raymond, but I keep my doors locked and my house appears to have nobody living in it, even when I'm home for weeks on end because I can't even go to work...
I don't belong here. "Be in the world, not of the world" Can there be a friends clause or some type of support group for those of us stuck in the world but with no connections or need to stay here? Maybe a vacation visa to leave the world for awhile? Something???!!!???
Well, it hit me like a freight train last night at a small family gathering I attended to celebrate a few family birthdays. I show up and I know most everybody there, but a couple of my very own cousins are people I've never met before. THEY'RE MY OWN AGE!!! How have I not met them before??? Doesn't matter, I don't belong here anyway. The family that is so tight-knit here all lived in this town for a couple decades now. I've only been here for about 10 months. Of course I'm not going to be used to this side of the family because they never came up to Home State for anything, so we only saw them on the rare occasion that my little nuclear family made it down to Small Town. This, was not a frequent even because my dad despises it down here and doesn't like this side of the family (his side, btw). Sigh.
I mentioned that my Mema's sister is the DON for my floor of the hospital right? She's the one who let me come and shadow in L&D and NICU throughout college and then offered me a NICU position. Well, seeing as she's my boss, I have decided to not really mention that I am looking for employment else where. Who in their right mind would? Unfortunately, I may have mentioned to Mema that I was applying to a local nursing program in order to work as a clinical instructor or professor aide. I'm a fucking idiot for doing such a foolish thing. Last night at the dinner, which just so happened to be at Mema's Sister's house, Mema decided it would be a good conversation to bring up that I was applying for this university position. WHY ON EARTH WOULD THIS SEEM LIKE A GOOD CONVERSATION TO HAVE AT A FAMILY GET-TOGETHER??? AND WITH MY BOSS???!!!??? I get that they are sisters and there was a lul in the conversation, but that's not Mema's information to be sharing and that is not an appropriate time!
Mema keeps calling my mom "to visit" and check in on her. Fine, that's expected. However, she also keeps making things up about me and my life in order to be discussing it with my mom during said "visits". I recently shared slight concern over lack of days that I get to work, so she called my mom almost immediately and told my mom that "I am very worried about work, worried sick!". My mom, being my best buddy and knowing that we don't believe everything we hear, texted me with said information. I then got to reassure my mom that I am not super concerned, more peeved than anything, and I reiterated that she (Mom) and I had already discussed my lack of hours and next career choices in depth. She, of course, already knew all of these things because I call my Mom pretty much every day. But why does that seem like news that would be Mema's place to share? It's not! This is why I don't tell her secrets or anything that is of any worth, she spreads it to everyone, degrades me and complains about me to the whole family, then gets upset when I don't live at her house, spend every free moment with her, and want to move away from her town. I can feel my blood pressure rising just recounting the various other times this type of situation has come up with her.
She told my mom that I was considering moving to a Huge Southern City to go to midwifery school, then proceeded to bash said city to mom. Not her place to share such info, especially when I was telling her things like "I might go back to school, such and such place has a pretty good program, it wouldn't be for another few years... etc... etc... etc..." What happened? Mema called mom and told her I was planning to move ASAP and was unhappy here in Small Town and went on to say she (Mema) regretted ever talking me into coming down here."
I told you about her meeting with exfiance where she sent my mom a text disowning me and telling my mom that I was pretty much a failure, right? She also sent me a hatemail letter informing my family she would never go camping again (because that's where I introduced her to exfiance, stupid choice on my behalf I know). She then got upset with me for not wanting to live with her (she told my mom in the text that I was uninvited from staying at her house anyway) and she got PISSED when nobody wanted to go camping with her this summer, myself included. Duh! You told my family that you wouldn't ever go camping with us again because I'm such a fucking failure at life!!! I get that exfiance was evil to the core and terrible to everyone. However, do you not remember that you married not one, but 2 of them??? Why would you not help me out of a bad situation by being there for me instead of disowning me and spreading rumors behind my back to my entire family (extended and immediate) so that I now have nobody but my parents and my brother? (my dad doesn't even know what happened still).
Some days I wish I was born into a family who was closer to the cousins, grandparents, and entire family. Those days are few and fleeting. After most family gatherings/functions, I recall the simpleness that comes from having the closest family members 2-8 hours away and I count it a blessing to not have an Everybody Loves Raymond situation going on. Small Town got me close to being Raymond, but I keep my doors locked and my house appears to have nobody living in it, even when I'm home for weeks on end because I can't even go to work...
I don't belong here. "Be in the world, not of the world" Can there be a friends clause or some type of support group for those of us stuck in the world but with no connections or need to stay here? Maybe a vacation visa to leave the world for awhile? Something???!!!???
Thursday, January 19, 2017
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.
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.
Monday, November 14, 2016
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*)
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*)
Friday, November 11, 2016
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.
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.
Thursday, October 20, 2016
Comedic Relief?
I got a friend request on Facebook the other day from someone I didn't recognize. Looking through the little bit that was shown on their profile without us being friends, left me still confused as to who this person was.
I looked at the birthday and it matched Exfiance's birthday day, but it showed a different year... I looked at the name and the first name was his, but the last had been changed... There was only a profile picture taken through a windshield looking out onto fields of wild grass, and a cover photo of a motorcycle. I did not recognize the vehicle in the profile picture, nor did I recognize the motor cycle.
Something about the friend request struck me as odd, from the very beginning. As I did my short little search, more and more pointed to this being an obviously fake account, likely set up by A**hole Exfiance.
I never imagined his search for me would ever cease. I'm sure he's curious about what I'm doing, where I am, and how I'm doing without him.
You know what? I'm doing just fine right now, besides the stress of the fucking flu shot and minor stresses that plague every newly graduated college student (bills, chores, student loans, new job, etc). I have bouts of memories, but the L-rd brings me peace. I have struggles with insecurities, still, but I am also more confident than I think I've been in my whole life.
G-d is restoring me from the shell of a person I was a mere year ago, or even 4 months ago. He is filling in the cracks with gold and showing the bits of value I always had.
Praise the L-rd I'm smarter than I look. I can't believe he thought I would be so stupid that I would accept a friend request from 1) someone I didn't know, 2) that someone has his same first name and birthday and 3) pictures that do not show who the account is for... for real dumbass? You think I'm that dumb? After I went to the police, around your back, filed the report, called you on a recorded line, and broke up with you 4 times... while learning how to block you on every communication line you thought you could use. After all of that you think I'm going to be dumb enough to accept your dumbass, non-creative, completely unhidden friend request just because it has a different last name and different birth year?
Good heavens.
I looked at the birthday and it matched Exfiance's birthday day, but it showed a different year... I looked at the name and the first name was his, but the last had been changed... There was only a profile picture taken through a windshield looking out onto fields of wild grass, and a cover photo of a motorcycle. I did not recognize the vehicle in the profile picture, nor did I recognize the motor cycle.
Something about the friend request struck me as odd, from the very beginning. As I did my short little search, more and more pointed to this being an obviously fake account, likely set up by A**hole Exfiance.
I never imagined his search for me would ever cease. I'm sure he's curious about what I'm doing, where I am, and how I'm doing without him.
You know what? I'm doing just fine right now, besides the stress of the fucking flu shot and minor stresses that plague every newly graduated college student (bills, chores, student loans, new job, etc). I have bouts of memories, but the L-rd brings me peace. I have struggles with insecurities, still, but I am also more confident than I think I've been in my whole life.
G-d is restoring me from the shell of a person I was a mere year ago, or even 4 months ago. He is filling in the cracks with gold and showing the bits of value I always had.
Praise the L-rd I'm smarter than I look. I can't believe he thought I would be so stupid that I would accept a friend request from 1) someone I didn't know, 2) that someone has his same first name and birthday and 3) pictures that do not show who the account is for... for real dumbass? You think I'm that dumb? After I went to the police, around your back, filed the report, called you on a recorded line, and broke up with you 4 times... while learning how to block you on every communication line you thought you could use. After all of that you think I'm going to be dumb enough to accept your dumbass, non-creative, completely unhidden friend request just because it has a different last name and different birth year?
Good heavens.
Friday, September 23, 2016
Doctor Searching
I've been thinking about finding a doctor lately. I feel like I should go in and get checked out and try to be a "good patient" that sees a doctor every 5-6 years... instead of my current method of thinking I'm dying of cancer, going in to get checked out once every 15 or so years, then finding out I'm completely fine. I mean it works, kinda, but that's not the example a nurse should set for her patients, right? At least they're babies and won't ask about the last time I went in for my sniffles or the weird lump on my hip.
Along with thinking about finding a doctor, probably an OB/GYN, comes the thought of how to tell them to be extra careful with me. I have read about it some, and it usually gets the point across by simply saying I have a past history of sexual trauma. Short and to the point. I was gonna say short and sweet, but let's be real, there's nothing sweet about it.
Now, I was contemplating all of this, while throwing the ball for my dog in my backyard, when I remembered a completely random memory: I remember being at a karaoke pub with the girls from my senior year OB and peds rotation, celebrating that we were all done with clinicals. Exfiance was there, and it was after I had already gone to the cops, I believe, but the detective hadn't issued a warrant for him yet, so he didn't know about what I was doing. At some point I had to follow my friends out to the parking lot to make sure they had a buddy to come back in, and he caught me alone. He kept calling my name and I just walked away. I walked away with all of the strength and pride a woman can muster after finally leaving her abuser. I walked away knowing in my heart, that I am fighting for justice with all the courage and strength I could muster. I walked away from him with confidence that I was no longer in his grasp and he now has plenty of stories recorded with his name plastered ALL over them so that if some other girl happens to come forward (and I pray it's no girl that ever meets him after me), then his ass will end up in prison for the rest of his days because of the atrocities he committed towards myself and the other girls.
For having been struggling with insecurities, the sadness of realizing I can't handle a relationship right now, and the thought of ending up alone (which I am more and more okay with as the days go by), this random little memory gave me such strength and hope. I was able to be near him, and his tentacles could no longer permeate my heart because I am already gone. Yes, the damage has been done, but I finally had enough of his shit. I finally got the window to escape, the resources to help me do so, and the time needed to separate myself from his grasp.
For those of you who keep going back to abusers, who keep getting sucked in to their lies and manipulation, or who have to stay for safety reasons or children, I get it. I understand the needing to stay for just a bit longer, or accepting the burden of going back because there isn't sufficient safety in leaving just yet. I get it, I understand, and my heart is heavy for you. I am terribly sorry that you are going through that. I pray that one day, you are able to find your window to escape, and that you run and don't ever look back. Sure, the legal system will drag you back and make you relive the memories. Anniversaries will pop up and bring you down. However, keep fighting and moving and running and working towards your freedom. I promise you deserve it. I pray that once you get to leave, that you never see your abuser again, unless required by the legal system and then only in the presence of the cops that are required to guard him/her and a whole bunch of witnesses. More so, I pray you find your freedom and then peace and confidence to be you.
Praying for you victims and survivors tonight.
Along with thinking about finding a doctor, probably an OB/GYN, comes the thought of how to tell them to be extra careful with me. I have read about it some, and it usually gets the point across by simply saying I have a past history of sexual trauma. Short and to the point. I was gonna say short and sweet, but let's be real, there's nothing sweet about it.
Now, I was contemplating all of this, while throwing the ball for my dog in my backyard, when I remembered a completely random memory: I remember being at a karaoke pub with the girls from my senior year OB and peds rotation, celebrating that we were all done with clinicals. Exfiance was there, and it was after I had already gone to the cops, I believe, but the detective hadn't issued a warrant for him yet, so he didn't know about what I was doing. At some point I had to follow my friends out to the parking lot to make sure they had a buddy to come back in, and he caught me alone. He kept calling my name and I just walked away. I walked away with all of the strength and pride a woman can muster after finally leaving her abuser. I walked away knowing in my heart, that I am fighting for justice with all the courage and strength I could muster. I walked away from him with confidence that I was no longer in his grasp and he now has plenty of stories recorded with his name plastered ALL over them so that if some other girl happens to come forward (and I pray it's no girl that ever meets him after me), then his ass will end up in prison for the rest of his days because of the atrocities he committed towards myself and the other girls.
For having been struggling with insecurities, the sadness of realizing I can't handle a relationship right now, and the thought of ending up alone (which I am more and more okay with as the days go by), this random little memory gave me such strength and hope. I was able to be near him, and his tentacles could no longer permeate my heart because I am already gone. Yes, the damage has been done, but I finally had enough of his shit. I finally got the window to escape, the resources to help me do so, and the time needed to separate myself from his grasp.
For those of you who keep going back to abusers, who keep getting sucked in to their lies and manipulation, or who have to stay for safety reasons or children, I get it. I understand the needing to stay for just a bit longer, or accepting the burden of going back because there isn't sufficient safety in leaving just yet. I get it, I understand, and my heart is heavy for you. I am terribly sorry that you are going through that. I pray that one day, you are able to find your window to escape, and that you run and don't ever look back. Sure, the legal system will drag you back and make you relive the memories. Anniversaries will pop up and bring you down. However, keep fighting and moving and running and working towards your freedom. I promise you deserve it. I pray that once you get to leave, that you never see your abuser again, unless required by the legal system and then only in the presence of the cops that are required to guard him/her and a whole bunch of witnesses. More so, I pray you find your freedom and then peace and confidence to be you.
Praying for you victims and survivors tonight.
Tuesday, September 6, 2016
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.
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.
Saturday, July 16, 2016
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.
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.
Friday, June 24, 2016
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.
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.
Monday, June 20, 2016
Odd Feeling
I've been feeling strange for quite some time now. It's hard to explain, but it's one of those things that you can just sense you, yourself, are "off".
Looking through Facebook tonight, because I have very little to do in Small Town without a current graduate nurse permit... anywho, it occured to me that I have had to train myself to live in the present moment for the last several months. Actually, about a year and a half now. Don't get me wrong, I'm excellent at "tuning out" and dissociating. However, my dreams of the future have been dampened dramatically to trying to focus on the "here and now" so that I can get myself through each new hour that I am left breathing here on this planet.
There are still days I wake up startled from nightmares.
I still have several panic attacks a week/month (on a good month).
My eating and self-care is not nearly where it needs to be.
Flashbacks still occur several times every hour.
I don't like people at the door, it freaks me out.
Even in a different state, the sight of trucks freak me the fuck out. Doesn't matter if they're red, green, purple, neon orange, any color of the damn rainbow; they freak me out... again...
Ragardless, these things have become my new normal. Flashbacks and nightmares and trucks still frighten me to my core, but I am not as notably shaken to everyone else because I've been battling this shit for over a year now.
For a year I haven't been able to dream for my future. I can't think about a time when I'll be completely free of these burdens because that day will never come, until the day I die. The suicidal thoughts have subsided a bit. I've been able to cut down on my self-harm and the way I used to take mass amounts of Benadryl, Tylenol, and Ibuprofen to self-sedate my brain into sleep for a few days. Most days, I am able to get myself something to eat and I'm drinking more water than wine, again.
Still, my hopes for a future are essentially nonexistent at this point. On one level, it's a little nice to not keep getting my hopes up, just to have them crushed year after year. On a deeper level, of me as a 22-year-old young "lady" (quotes because let's be honest, I'm a complete tomboy besides these past few months of ridiculous whiny posts) still wants to be able to dream about G-d providing a husband for me, a white gown and walking down the aisle. Someday having children, continuing on with my nursing education, teaching my children how to live with lots of animals and teaching them about the various things in life. This, teaching them about life, is usually where I shift into reverse and convince myself a future needs to not happen.
Getting to the point in my imagination that there is a husband and there are children is a long, long process. It used to be something to look forward to, ponder, and pray about. Now, it feels like pulling teeth and I find myself begging the Good L-rd to have someone who is patient and kind enough to be able to handle my crap baggage. Then it slows even more because I get to thinking about how being with me would not be fair to a single soul. That's about the time that all past roommates and all the negative comments about how badly I suck start playing through my mind...
Anyway, in the off chance I get to the point where I think about the things to teach my imaginary children, I come to a complete stop when I think about them being any older than an infant. How can I handle them going to a sleep over where I'm not there? What if the friend has older siblings? Are those older siblings supervised? What happens when we have to have the "sex talk"? Do I tell them about what happened to me? Will that cause trauma? Will that make them over-paranoid? When they are in high school/college, will they be able to stay safe from the horrors inflicted upon me? Will I have days where I stay in bed and call my mom or mother-in-law to deal with the kids because I simply can't? How do I explain to them the days when I'm weepy, dissociated, sad, numb, or completely unable to function? How is this fair to kids? How would this be fair to a husband?
How the hell is any of this shit fair to me? I didn't ask for any of these assaults.
A year and a half ago, I was going about life, excited to be a nurse and to see what my future had in store. One absolute shitty year changed it all for me.
I'm still taking my life hour-by-hour, sometimes I work myself up to a day-by-day mentality. Those days, where I'm not living hour-by-hour, are surprisingly my "good" days.
Maybe someday I'll get to a point where I can dream about a future. Maybe, someday, I'll have a future.
June 12 was supposed to be my "wedding day". Haha, that was the date I picked for the wedding of exfiance and I. That day came and went and it was one of the best, most freeing days I've had in a long time. It was a day where I woke up knowing that I dodged a bomb. No, he was not bullet to dodge, he was a fucking bomb!!! I'm by no means completely safe, and I have a long way to go before I am healed, but I am free. Praise the L-rd for that.
Looking through Facebook tonight, because I have very little to do in Small Town without a current graduate nurse permit... anywho, it occured to me that I have had to train myself to live in the present moment for the last several months. Actually, about a year and a half now. Don't get me wrong, I'm excellent at "tuning out" and dissociating. However, my dreams of the future have been dampened dramatically to trying to focus on the "here and now" so that I can get myself through each new hour that I am left breathing here on this planet.
There are still days I wake up startled from nightmares.
I still have several panic attacks a week/month (on a good month).
My eating and self-care is not nearly where it needs to be.
Flashbacks still occur several times every hour.
I don't like people at the door, it freaks me out.
Even in a different state, the sight of trucks freak me the fuck out. Doesn't matter if they're red, green, purple, neon orange, any color of the damn rainbow; they freak me out... again...
Ragardless, these things have become my new normal. Flashbacks and nightmares and trucks still frighten me to my core, but I am not as notably shaken to everyone else because I've been battling this shit for over a year now.
For a year I haven't been able to dream for my future. I can't think about a time when I'll be completely free of these burdens because that day will never come, until the day I die. The suicidal thoughts have subsided a bit. I've been able to cut down on my self-harm and the way I used to take mass amounts of Benadryl, Tylenol, and Ibuprofen to self-sedate my brain into sleep for a few days. Most days, I am able to get myself something to eat and I'm drinking more water than wine, again.
Still, my hopes for a future are essentially nonexistent at this point. On one level, it's a little nice to not keep getting my hopes up, just to have them crushed year after year. On a deeper level, of me as a 22-year-old young "lady" (quotes because let's be honest, I'm a complete tomboy besides these past few months of ridiculous whiny posts) still wants to be able to dream about G-d providing a husband for me, a white gown and walking down the aisle. Someday having children, continuing on with my nursing education, teaching my children how to live with lots of animals and teaching them about the various things in life. This, teaching them about life, is usually where I shift into reverse and convince myself a future needs to not happen.
Getting to the point in my imagination that there is a husband and there are children is a long, long process. It used to be something to look forward to, ponder, and pray about. Now, it feels like pulling teeth and I find myself begging the Good L-rd to have someone who is patient and kind enough to be able to handle my crap baggage. Then it slows even more because I get to thinking about how being with me would not be fair to a single soul. That's about the time that all past roommates and all the negative comments about how badly I suck start playing through my mind...
Anyway, in the off chance I get to the point where I think about the things to teach my imaginary children, I come to a complete stop when I think about them being any older than an infant. How can I handle them going to a sleep over where I'm not there? What if the friend has older siblings? Are those older siblings supervised? What happens when we have to have the "sex talk"? Do I tell them about what happened to me? Will that cause trauma? Will that make them over-paranoid? When they are in high school/college, will they be able to stay safe from the horrors inflicted upon me? Will I have days where I stay in bed and call my mom or mother-in-law to deal with the kids because I simply can't? How do I explain to them the days when I'm weepy, dissociated, sad, numb, or completely unable to function? How is this fair to kids? How would this be fair to a husband?
How the hell is any of this shit fair to me? I didn't ask for any of these assaults.
A year and a half ago, I was going about life, excited to be a nurse and to see what my future had in store. One absolute shitty year changed it all for me.
I'm still taking my life hour-by-hour, sometimes I work myself up to a day-by-day mentality. Those days, where I'm not living hour-by-hour, are surprisingly my "good" days.
Maybe someday I'll get to a point where I can dream about a future. Maybe, someday, I'll have a future.
June 12 was supposed to be my "wedding day". Haha, that was the date I picked for the wedding of exfiance and I. That day came and went and it was one of the best, most freeing days I've had in a long time. It was a day where I woke up knowing that I dodged a bomb. No, he was not bullet to dodge, he was a fucking bomb!!! I'm by no means completely safe, and I have a long way to go before I am healed, but I am free. Praise the L-rd for that.
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