Hauntingly Familiar

As you might well know, from my many posts, I have moved back to the city I lived in during college (a.k.a. College Town, as named for my blog).

This also just so happens to be the city in which I lived through the worst year of my life, 2015.

2015 was a terrible year, filled with 2 relationships that were exceedingly toxic and abusive. I was sexually assaulted/raped, mentally imprisoned, physically abused, and otherwise harmed in most ways possible. Through these occurrences, I developed terrible depression, complex PTSD (which was made worse by my friend's suicide the year prior), and I participated in smoking and self-harm as ways of attempting to cope.



Often, in my experiences as a nurse, and general experiences as a human, I have been slapped in the face with comments, made by unknowing people.

Usually these include jokes about suicide or self-harm. Other times they are people lying about sexual assault and rape in order to remain out of trouble or to get attention. And still, there are instances that fall in and out of that range.



Recently, my ability to cope was tested as someone mentioned to me that "they don't believe most rape victims have actually been raped. Most of the time these girls didn't say 'no' strongly enough or contributed to the drinking and merely had sex that they regretted in the morning."

*deep breath*

For those of you who don't know my full story, just know that these are two very triggering statements for me 1) that the 'no' was not forceful enough and 2) that because the girl was drunk, it is automatically her fault because she was drinking.

Let me preface this by saying that sometimes people lie. Maybe someone is lying about having sex and regretting it in the morning and they feel that claiming it as "rape" is going to lessen their guilt or somehow get them sympathy. Let me also say that I have a tendency to believe people if they claim they have been assaulted, because if it's false then it'll eat away at them as they meet true victims. If it doesn't, then hey, not my problem. I would rather believe people and treat them with extra gentleness, than to assume that everyone is lying.



With that being said, the details of my story often keep me up at night. I have worked for years at grounding techniques and trying to remember all of the events that I unfortunately survived over the course of living through the hell I experienced in 2015.



My attackers were boyfriends. With 1, I question whether my "no" was strong enough, because I froze. I told him "no" about 50 times, maybe more. However, my body was frozen apart from moving his hands away and trying to keep myself safe. There are about 15-20 minutes that I cannot account for because my brain shut off and I had a sort of "flashback" but I didn't go into the past, I just went somewhere else in my brain. I remember my thoughts through that unaccounted time, but I cannot remember reality.

I struggle with knowing I could have done something, but I couldn't, all at the same time. Especially after taking self-defense, I know that my desires to kick him in the face and run, were absolutely acceptable and encouraged behaviors because of what he was doing. But I didn't do it, because I couldn't grasp the gravity of the situation in that particular moment.

My second boyfriend (of about 2.5 months at the time) knowingly got me drunk and likely drugged me. We had been planning to go out dancing and drinking. Like a fool, I told him my limit was 3 drinks, and asked him to hold my drink when I went out to dance. It was a night where we were given 2 free shots of various whiskey to encourage people to buy these brands. This, along with him getting me refill after refill (without my knowledge) and then encouraging me to chug, ended up causing me to drink too much. He knew I trusted him, and he knew I wasn't able to keep track of him being gone when I was dancing with my friends. He had been charming and fun for the few months we were together, until that night. The next memory I have was waking up next to him, naked, in a hotel room. I didn't know where I was, what had happened, or how to get home.

This is a struggle for me because I was counting my own drinks. I know to not drink too much. I know when to cut myself off. I trusted him. He claimed he wanted to help me after having been hurt by my first boyfriend. He claimed to have "over-the-moon" feelings for me. He claimed to want to marry me... after only a couple months of dating. We had had our fights, but he typically ended up working out a decent deal to "compromise" with me. After that night, he fought with me on religion, virginity, giving my body to him (he even claimed scripture for this, even though he is not a believer), and he fought me on everything.



With the two comments made about rape/sexual assault victims in relation to lying, saying "no", and drinking, I am at a war. I war within myself nearly every day whether I was truly abused the way I have had to convince myself I was, or if I'm making these things up and merely regret having sex with guys I hadn't even planned to kiss. Which, is a form of assault in it's own right, technically. But those are stories for another day.





And so, I lost hours of precious sleep, that I already don't get enough of, battling in my own head over words spoken out of unknowing. In the conversation, in which those comments were made, the person I spoke with prefaced the conversation saying they "had not had anyone in their family raped" and that these were just their findings in their limited control group of people who had claimed to have been assaulted/raped (a group of maybe 2 people). So, at least they acknowledged that. But it still stings.

It stings to not even believe my own memory, because of somebody's opinion about something that has never personally effected them or someone they love and know dearly. It stings to have to battle in my own head and lose sleep over such small comments. It stings to not be able to easily discern reality from nightmares, because your life is worse than your worst nightmare.

Grounding is exhausting in these situations and for someone who has been working 6 days a week, between 2 new jobs and learning all of the "new", it is especially difficult to bring myself back to the facts. To prove to myself that the labels of "rape" and "abuse" given by my counselor truly fit the relationships I had. Then, for days, my brain is recounting and dredging up all of the examples it can muster, and even some I had forgotten, in order to prove to me that I am not "crazy" for believing in my traumatic past.

And so the past haunts the present. It lurks in the corner of every new adventure. It tests out every new friendship, and holds it to standards that are unbeknownst to me. All I get are the results of the test: don't trust anyone and keep it to myself.



I don't talk about my past anymore. The more new people I meet, and the more I go on with life, the fewer people I tell. I told nobody in Small Town, and I don't plan on telling anyone here. The only people that will know, already know, and those were even probably not great choices. Thing is, it's not fair to keep it to yourself and it's not healthy. Counselors can't be the only people to ever know things like this, but I can't go around telling every random person I befriend about my traumatic past either.

The "discussions" started, the fights I wage, and the debate about what constitutes rape and abuse are conversations I simply try to avoid. Changing the subject or nodding along and zoning out seem to work the best for me. However, it seems that's all I do anymore...

And so it goes. I bandage those hurt feelings and move on. I don't blame the lips that spill the words. I don't abandon the people who think that way to begin with. All I can do is hope to recover from my many returns to the deep pits, and keep on pushing along.

Maybe one day things will get better.

I thought it would be different...

Well guys, I just finished my last final of nursing school. You wanna know something? I passed! That means I graduate on Friday and I have the opportunity to sit for the NCLEX to see if I get to be a registered nurse or not.

I thought it would be different. I thought I would be so excited, celebrating with my many friends, and I figured I would have a better plan. I thought this was supposed to be a happy affair.

Right now, I'm sitting in a coffee shop frustrated with my lack of support, my family split, my dreams of a family crushed, regret over my past (guys and friends) encompassing me, stress over legal matters drowning me, and I'm living in an RV with my mom because my roomie "kicked" me out a week and a half early. I'm overwhelmed at the amount of seemingly bad circumstances I have been faced with, still knowing that other people face worse lives than mine.

I "graduated" counseling yesterday. We call it that because I used to tell my counselor that I was graduating a bunch of things all at the same time so we might as well call it graduating from counseling too. She approved and thought it was cute. Well, I fell like after yesterday, I hit new rough waters and now I need her back. Finishing counseling is supposed to be a good thing, but now it left me feeling like I'm not actually ready to face life on my own again just yet. I guess I'll try it for a couple weeks/months and then decide if I need to find another counselor once I move.

Graduation is supposed to be a happy time, but you know what? It's okay if it's a little sad or frustrating for you. It's sad and frustrating for me too.

Life After Sexual Assault

I feel like I scare my friends, and you all in blog land, on a regular basis by the words I put forth from my brain. There are ridiculous amounts of anger, explicit language, and some emotions that have never been put on a radar for humans and have no labels for them.

I hate some things that should be beautiful. I despise my body for the things others have done to it. And, let's face it, I'm a regular downer. I'm processing life and I went from a more up-beat person to one filled with rage and pain.

Today, I read an article by Bethany about birthing after sexual assault. In fact, I think that's the name of the article... You can see how well my brain is working tonight...

She mentions many similar emotions to what I express, but she simply names them to keep focus on her goal. Her goal was to explain how birth actually helped her heal and see the beauty in her body. Her body is not a toy or piece of amusement for some person. Her body grew and housed a tiny, brand-new human being. He body produces milk to feed said infant. Her body is a work of art that produces and sustains life. It brought about her daughter, who is proof that goodness comes from sex. She is with a man who loves and appreciates her and does not take her body for granted. She is in a stable, committed relationship full of love and that love resulted in a baby, whom she absolutely loves.

While, at this point in my "healing" process, I don't fully trust that my body will be loved and respected the way I so desired to be treated, her article brings to light some important details that were absent from my irrational rant from last night.

1) Sex is supposed to be wonderful, fun, healthy, and an expression of love.
2) Such sex is possible after sexual assault and rape.
3) Having a child may not re-traumatize a sexual assault victim. In some ways it might, but it may also help to empower the woman and prove to herself how strong she is.
4) Healthy relationships exist (though I'm not certain I've really seen one...)
5) My negative emotions are okay and understandable after what has been done. If you've gone through a similar experience, it is okay to be upset and angry and frustrated. Just remember not to take it out on those who love and cherish you. Those in your life who are trying to help you heal should not be hurt on your path to healing.



I'm still not convinced sex will ever be a positive experience in my life, but I'm 21. I might have a lot more life to live and G-d may choose to prove me wrong and make it okay someday...

For right now I don't like it. It makes me angry thinking about it or hearing about it.

My poor dear friend got to hear a shortened, sweetened version of my rant today. I don't think she was prepared. I told her I hated it and that it has completely ruined my life. She was shocked and asked if I ever liked it. I told her I never did because it was never my choice. She didn't know how to respond. I didn't expect her to know how. I ended the conversation on a few jokes, but I think I upset her.

Maybe someday I'll learn to keep my thoughts to myself. In the meantime I get to deal with the aftermath of my runaway mouth, broken brain, and abused body.

Counseling Homework: Journal

*****Fowl language present in this post. Proceed with caution***** 

My homework for this week is to journal each night before bed. Last night's theme: anger. Anger at "friends," anger that exfiance tried to contact me just once I start getting free from his evil grasp on my life, and angry that this is my life.

I'm angry. I'm sad. Mostly, I'm numb between the overwhelming rage at seemingly everything in my life and the bouts of sadness that pepper each day.

So, my homework is to journal. I didn't even tell my counselor about my anger issues because one hour is simply not enough time to be able to process everything I need to process. It barely even scratches the surface because I have way too much noise in my head.

I guess we're going to start working on my self-esteem. I shared my needs and wants list with her, and I suppose the common thread through the need list was basic survival stuff. My wants seem to need a foundation of self-esteem before anything else can happen, I guess. So, that is a next step.


I talked with counselor about reporting the guys. When it comes to this, I get very confused. When I told her I didn't want to report them, we discussed what happens if I don't report them: they don't realize they've done wrong or they knew they did wrong and they continue to believe they can get away with it, they could do this to other girls, etc, etc, etc.

So, I did some soul searching and finally find it in my conscience the desire to report these assholes and hope, best case scenario, that they go to prison or get some kind of legal punishment and record for these wrongs. When I mentioned my desire to report them, I let her know I had been reading about the process and other victim's stories online about the reporting process. Now I feel deflated because I don't think I'm strong enough to go through with the re-victimization that the reporting process can cause.

She, having worked with these cases many times before, let me in on what to expect and the prognosis is not good. With the first one, at least I went and got a SANE exam. After the second guy, I wanted to go get an exam so badly, but he talked me into staying with him and he questioned me if I was going to go get one. He has questioned me about getting a SANE exam several times since then and he uses guilt trips and fear to keep me from ever getting them. Between that and the costs associated with them if you aren't going to report (and I wasn't ready to report them at the time so no compensation would have been given), I had no ability to get the exam done. At least 10-12 of the 14 times he claims we "had sex" could have been used for a SANE exam, but his clutch on me was so intense that he even made me feel guilty for hurting his feelings when I went and got the Plan B pill just to cover my tail that way. He said it was terrible for me to be buying that pill because it meant I didn't believe or trust him. No shit Fucker, I don't believe that you "pull out" and that that is an efficient means of pregnancy prevention because you told me you wanted to get me pregnant!!! SEVERAL FUCKING TIMES!!!

I actually think he was mad at me taking the EC (emergency contraception) because it meant he was not in control of me becoming pregnant. He thought he had control of my mind, my emotions, and my body, but I wouldn't give him total control of "us" (essentially him via my uterus) bringing another life into this world as a result of continued abuse. This thought is a brand new epiphany I got while writing this. Ugh, the weight of what he's done gets heavier. As it gets heavier, the more I realize that everything that could be used as proof, he said over the phone or in person and he can refute all of these points. I have no texts or way to prove that he did this, said this, told me this, yelled at me for hours upon hours, and manipulated me in order to try to make me believe all of these things were my idea and not him manipulating me.

He had to have been planning for the eventuality that this would go to court and he wanted no proof that could be used against him. I think he plans this and has a specific method of action so that he can do this over and over again. That has to be what is going on here because he took measures to make sure that only small talk was done over text but yelling, fights, and difficult subjects where I was trying to stand up for myself as he bulldozed me was all done over the phone or in person. He was planning for no evidence so that he could talk his way out of another felony like he's done for all of his other fucking charges. Granted, these are just speculations, but I've racked my brain and this is just now coming to me.

The idea that he planned this and made sure there was no evidence makes so much sense! He's told me tons of stories where he has the "evidence" of a girl saying "yes" to sex with him but when she wakes up in the morning and calls the cops saying he raped her, then he shows the cop a video of her saying "yes" and they tell her that she is just being dramatic! Nobody knows if she was able to consent and was in a sober state-of-mind, and as far as I know the cop doesn't ask her about that. The only thing he ever told me is that about a dozen girls have told him they raped them, and he comes back with a video of her saying it's "okay" if they have sex.

One day we were talking about the day I woke up naked next to him in that shitty motel, not remembering anything that had happened because he had brought me so much alcohol that I blacked out, he told me he should have gotten me on video consenting. He also told me a few days after that that he felt like he had raped me but later denied ever saying this. Then he said that saying he "felt like he raped me" was a joke that he played because that was the day he picked that 4 hour long fight as he drove me to the proposal in the cabin.

Puzzle pieces are starting to fit together and the memories are coming back.

This is going to be hard. I've been able to block out so much of exboyfriend and exfiance for so long, now I have to begin thinking about this stuff so that I can remember what happened in order to be able to report it to police and brainstorm ways to get these fucking assholes behind bars.

Exfiance was laying the ground work to hurt people, and me, since before I ever met him. How many other girls has he done this to? How many more times will he get away with his evil schemes and how many more lives will he ruin?



I was asked why I want to report them now?

There are a lot of answers to this: I wasn't strong enough to see that I had done everything I needed to do in order to try to stop their actions against me (said no, physically trying to push them away, trying to avoid them, attempting to break up with them, trying to bring other people around when they wanted to hang out, etc); I want to get their actions on file even if there isn't enough evidence to convict them at this time; if other girls come forward, I want to know that I helped get those other girls justice, even if reporting them does nothing for me; I'm beginning to understand what happened to me; I'm not reporting them out of vengeance, I'm trying to consider the safety and life quality of the others they may come into contact with, nobody should have to deal with life the way I'm having to deal with it. Yes, it has taken me months, almost a year, to report them. However, it's taken me this long to get out of a numb state-of-mind so that I could start remembering the details and start realizing that what they've done is one of the worst crimes they can do against another living creature.


I've learned that many victims find reporting their abusers even more traumatizing than the actual assaults were originally. That is absolute bullshit. There is also like less than one person convicted of rape out of every 100 rapes reported. Some of those are fake reports of girls trying to get back at their boyfriends, but so many are unable to be prosecuted in any way because rapes come down to he said, she said.

I think this is because victims are in shock for so long, they don't understand what happened to them. By the time they come to and realize that what happened was against the law, it's often too late for a SANE exam, especially if evidence is needed to prove the rape was done by who the victim claims it was. Many people don't even know you need to go get a SANE exam if you are sexually assaulted/raped. I am in nursing school and have worked in hospitals for years and hadn't ever heard of a specific specialty in nursing for sexual assault cases. When I first heard the term "SANE exam" I thought it was a psych consult to see if I was telling the truth or crazy and reporting something that didn't actually happen. Our society is so backwards and uninformed about sexual assault and rape, most victims don't know and have no mental capacity (due to the shock) to be able to know that there are steps they need to take after something so traumatizing.



So, as far as reporting goes, I was asked to think about it for awhile longer. I was advised to wait until I'm stronger and not going through so much school stress. That poses a problem because I want to move away after I graduate and leave the state. How am I going to report these crimes if I'm in a different state?

Why is life so fucking hard?

Why are there not more intense bad words to fully express myself adequately? Maybe there are no words to be able to describe some things people go through because some things are so heinous and some emotions are so powerful and raw that words don't even come close to being sufficient.

Ridiculously Stupid Cycle

Guys, I'm freaking out today. I was doing okay for the first time a couple days ago and now I'm headed back into the sad part of my cycle. I'm freaking out because I'm terrified I have an STD.

I know, I shouldn't be worrying and then refuse to go get tested. Thing is, I didn't want the contact that spreads STDs. It wasn't my choice. I could choose for the guys to have protection. I didn't choose any of it. That makes me angry. If I had a choice in any part of the matter at all, then I wouldn't be in this predicament.

I'm angry because I didn't get a choice. I'm angry because if I do have one, then I feel like my life is over because I don't want a husband to get it, if I have anything, and I damn sure don't want kids to get it. So then marriage and children are out of the picture for me.

That was my nightmare last night. That I had an STD.

I know I should go get tested but I'm terrified that it will be the end of my life and dreams.



I'm hoping I can just get to counseling tomorrow. I look forward to having it twice a week because I'm not doing well going so far out between sessions. I feel better the first few days and then I start sinking again about mid-way through the week once it gets to about Thursday or Friday and then my weekends are shit.

On a positive note, I got a snow day today. I really needed it. I'm just hoping I get to start clinicals tomorrow because it'll be the first day of OB clinicals and I'm on the Mom/Baby floor. Yay!

Acceptance

Turns out Country Boy was cremated, but then buried. So, when I went right after his death in 2014, I could have visited him. However, they told me he had just gotten cremated and that they were sorry. Whatever, not a huge deal. Exfiance called again because I told him he didn't have a grave. Turns out he does. His ashes were buried near his dad's and the rest of his family that had passed away already.

When I called to see where he was, the lady told me to come into the office when I arrived and she would give me a map. So I went in and got the map. I wondered around in the area he was supposed to be for nearly 20 minutes and couldn't find him. So, I sat at an unmarked plot wondering if he had a headstone because they hadn't gotten one for his dad for about a year after he died because the wife just couldn't handle making it that official. After sitting for another 15 minutes and feeling stupid because my mind was wondering and wondering how they buried couples... I decided I should leave. As I was walking back to my car, I looked down and finally found his headstone.

It wasn't where I was told to go, the map kinda lied. As soon as I saw it my stomach dropped and tears flooded my eyes. I sat at his grave for over an hour thinking about him, his dad, his mom and sister who were now left with no guys from their family. I yelled at him for leaving me and not taking me with him. I told him we could have gone together if he would have taken me for a car ride. I apologized to him for being mean and I apologized because I believe I may have said the last thing that caused him to go over the edge and finally go through with it.

I was supposed to have hung out with him a couple days before he died but I cancelled because my other friends cancelled on me and I was "going out" with Best Friend at the time but didn't want to tell Country Boy. So, when CB asked if I wanted to hang out since I was cancelled on, I said "no thanks". That was it. That was the last time I talked to him and he died a few days later. I know he was struggling with his dad being gone and he seemed to have severe depression. He had moved out of his mom's house because of too many memories of his dad. He moved out to where my uncle and Exboyfriend live (also where exfiance lives, coincidentally enough) with his aunt and uncle because he loved the country. Well, that was it.

I had wanted to text him those few days and I had urges to, but I never did because he usually ignored my texts when I texted first. I don't know if he didn't want to talk to me, he was trying to make it seem like he was busy, or if he really was busy. I spent so many months waiting for him to text me. He would contact me, talk with me for a couple days, then go completely radio silent for several weeks. That was hard for me to live with. I was sick of getting my hopes up and checking my phone every 5 seconds because I was waiting for him to talk to me again. However, I should have texted him those days. I was waiting for his birthday. I found out a week after my 20th birthday and a few days before his that he died. Nobody told me, I just found his obituary online.

I told exfiance (Jacob) that he was not allowed to tell me that being sad that CB died was selfish. I'm allowed to be angry and sad and cry because I am grieving still. It's been almost two years and I still think about him almost every day. I still see him in the faces of a lot of actors and people I run into on a daily basis. I see his truck occasionally and I remember him when I do some of the stuff he used to like to do. Jacob finally told me okay that I'm allowed to cry and I guess he didn't realize I blamed myself (I didn't need his permission but he needs to not tell people how to feel!). I talked with him last night and told him the story at the beginning of this post. I thought I had told him all this but he said he didn't know before that I blamed myself. After that he understood why I'm angry and sad and cry so much. He said I should be understanding about why the kid killed himself, but I told him that I'm going to feel how I feel. I understand he was going through rough stuff and had depression before but it was getting worse now that his dad had died unexpectedly, but I'm sure there was much more going on. I'm not apologizing for that anymore and I'm not pushing it away so that I can be strong for other people. Now it's my time to sort out my head because there is too much all mixed up in there right now.

The hour I spent at CB's grave was good. It was healing. I felt stuff that I haven't felt in a long time and I was able to cry. I don't know why, but I've been needing to very for a long time but the tears won't come. I feel so numb and just there but not present. It's weird to me to want to cry and also weird that I cannot. Yesterday I did. I yelled and apologized and just sat in remembrance. I also said sorry for not coming sooner. Someone left a cigarette on his grave. It was unlit so I know it was on purpose. I know he wouldn't want flowers so a cigarette made a lot of sense. He wasn't even 20 yet. I have a feeling I'll probably go there a lot in the next few months when I need a place to think. I used to drive up into the woods and think of him often, but it somehow feels better to imagine him being there and able to hear me.

I had this thought about a song I haven't heard since I was a child. Since I was so little, I knew it was a sad song but I never understood it. At the grave I just had "Whiskey Lullaby" playing over and over in my head. Why is it helping me feel better? I have no clue. I have played it nearly a hundred times since the visit and it helps me more and more each time.

"Whiskey Lullaby"

She put him out like the burnin' end of a midnight cigarette
She broke his heart he spent his whole life tryin' to forget
We watched him drink his pain away a little at a time
But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind
Until the night

[1st Chorus]
He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away her memory
Life is short but this time it was bigger
Than the strength he had to get up off his knees
We found him with his face down in the pillow
With a note that said I'll love her till I die
And when we buried him beneath the willow
The angels sang a whiskey lullaby

(Sing lullaby)

The rumors flew but nobody knew how much she blamed herself
For years and years she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath
She finally drank her pain away a little at a time
But she never could get drunk enough to get him off her mind
Until the night

[2nd Chorus]
She put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away his memory
Life is short but this time it was bigger
Than the strength she had to get up off her knees
We found her with her face down in the pillow
Clinging to his picture for dear life
We laid her next to him beneath the willow
While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby

I don't know why I keep getting songs popping up in my head. I don't know if the L-rd is putting them there or if my brain is making connections or spazzing out or what. But these songs are helping me little by little.

Loneliness Ensues

Exfiance and I had been talking since the breakup a few weeks ago. I ended that last night. Well, I called him to see if he would go to some places that brought back a lot of flashbacks. Desensitization therapy, kinda. He said he would so I met him at the first place. He didn't want to go in right away, he wanted to talk for awhile. So, I got in his truck an we talked. It's been the same thing over and over since the breakup. He says he misses me and wants to fix us. I tell him it's too late. He says it's not. Blah, blah, blah. We have this conversation almost every day.

Last night, we went to two of my hundreds of bad places and spent nearly 4 hours in his truck talking and maybe 10 minutes in one store. Then we started talking in front of the other one but never went in. He finally yelled at me. I was waiting for it because he has yelled at me for everything we've ever "discussed" in the course of our relationship. He says it's my dad's fault that we broke up and that I broke up with him out of no where. On my end, I agree that my dad not approving the engagement was what finally tipped me over the edge, but that's not what put the final nail in the coffin. I have been explaining to exfiance that he needed to treat me better, put down his phone when I'm out with him, talk to me, open up about stuff, tell me the truth about stuff, stop lying to me, stop putting me down every chance he gets, stop making fun of me to his friends (WHILE I'M THERE!), and just being a decent person to me in general. FROM THE VERY BEGINNING! I have given him so many chances. He kept telling me he would change and try to be good to me but that was just to get me to be back in a relationship with him. Then he would go right back to being mean to me.

I finally told him that last night. I don't know where the strength came from, but after two places and him yelling at me for about 4 hours and continually trying to kiss me, I had had enough. I flat out told him that I was done. I told him that I had been trying to be friends with him, but he was always pushing the relationship. He didn't respect me enough to stop trying to kiss me when we were no longer going out, he wouldn't stop grabbing my butt, he wouldn't stop doing the things that angered me in the relationship even though he says he's changed and he's totally different now. Bullshit. He started selling himself to me saying "let's just try it for a month, or to the end of this month, or for 3 days. Give me 3 days and I'll show you I'm different. Give me 24 hours, or 12 hours!" He just kept talking and talking the way he does when he is selling (hussling) people in the mall at the kiosk he now works at.

I told him that I tried the friend thing, but maybe we should just stop talking cold turkey. He started using his same manipulative tactics that I now recognize from the other times I've tried to leave. This time, however, I saw through it all. I see that he wants me but he doesn't see my value. He wants to put me in a box and he wants me to do whatever he wants. He thinks I'll cower and let him control me.

He drove off pissed off beyond belief last night. His go-to emotion has always been anger and it used to make me feel bad. Now, I say what I mean. No more beating around the bush, saying stuff "nice" so that he won't blow up. Nope, I laid it all out, very few words, and I let him be angry with me. I showed no emotion and had none to really show anyway. I felt so strong and freed at the end of that when he was driving away and I was getting in my car. I apologized for calling him into town for such a stupid reason, and I told him that we were no more. I had given him some books that I used when I was trying to get our relationship to work and I asked for them all back. He kept one saying it would be an excuse to come and see me again. He can have it because it was probably $3 and I'll just get another one if I even think I want to read it again.

I'm done.

I've learned a lot though! I've seen firsthand accounts of a manipulative relationship. I've learned that if my family doesn't like him then that's a red flag. However, they liked exboyfriend and we all know how that ended. If someone has a lot of dramatic stories, that is a red flag. When someone wants to isolate you and tells you to tell your friends and family to fuck off if they don't like the relationship, that's a huge problem. Unfortunately, I've learned that not everyone is as truthful as I try to be. Many people do bad things and rationalize it to themselves that the other person made them do it. That's not healthy. I've learned that I am stronger than I believed I was. I don't deserve manipulative relationships. I don't deserve being forced into a physical relationship and guys worth while won't force physical stuff on you. They will wait and respect what you want. I've also learned that many friendships aren't as deep as I thought they were. Many people can't handle the stuff I have to live through because of my poor choices. I have learned that when I cannot handle things, I need to be able to go to a trusted person so that they can provide outside advice on the situation. If it is bad from their point of view, then maybe I'm not being crazy and something is actually wrong. I've also learned that I am able to handle this stuff on my own, with the help of the L-rd because people cannot handle my baggage.

Do you guys remember best friend from when I first started blogging? We had a crush on each other and I was nervous about him asking me out. We went out for about 3 weeks, where I completely avoided him that whole time, and then I broke up with him. He started texting me a couple months ago. Lately, I told him what had happened with exboyfriend and exfiance. He is being so sweet and supportive, like a friend should. He has a girlfriend and I don't want to take him from her, but I forgot how much I missed him. He gives me hope that there is a decent guy out there for me. He was always respectful of my boundaries and always just wanted to talk and get to know me deeper. He didn't rush the physical stuff. He was my friend first for several years before he tried to get anywhere else with me. Even then, he was my friend first and boyfriend second. I miss him so terribly but I am so glad the the L-rd has brought him back as my friend. I pray that I find a guy like him again. Those guys usually get married really quick, though, because girls come and snatch them up really quick.

Oh well, here's to hoping the L-rd has someone with a lot of grace, kindness, goodness, respect, love, forgiveness, and understanding. Someone who can handle all my crazy and love me for my heart.

Why did I not wait for a guy like that? Why did I settle twice and land myself in a ditch?

Worst Part About Break-ups

Seeing as this is the second official break-up I've had from a guy, kinda my third (if you count the kid I "dated" for three weeks by avoiding him the entire time). However, the worst parts about a break-up for me are 1) missing the guy's family, 2) having so much left unsaid and so many questions unanswered, 3) missing the guy's company, and 4) being angry about what they did/didn't do. Now, they are all fairly equal in my brain, but I go through cycles where each one seems more prominent at any given time.

1) I miss their families terribly. Trial-run's mom loved me. Country Boy's mom (even though we didn't date) loved me. Exboyfriend's whole entire immediate and extended family loved me. Exfiance's mom absolutely adored me and even took me shopping. Unfortunately for me, I loved all of these people too! Breaking up with the guy automatically breaks me off from being loved by their families, but I almost miss their families more than I miss the guy because I felt so wanted and accepted into another person's life. Their families thought I was good for the guys and their families typically hadn't liked other girls they had brought home and so they were somehow surprised that they liked me when I was brought around. I miss that and the relationships I had developed with the family members. I loved that when the guy and I were fake arguing in front of them, the family members usually took my side. Haha, they were all jokes, but some of the fake arguments had roots in discussions where I had supported my side and the guy didn't understand until his family took my side.

2) This is the worst. Since Country Boy died, I obviously have so much left unsaid to him.

When I broke up with Exboyfriend, I only told him that what he did was not okay. I wish I could have told him that what he did was rape and that he absolutely needs to not do that to anyone else. I wish I could let him know how badly I'm messed up because of that, but I don't want to mess him up or make him feel guilty. I'm scared that could lead to another suicide like Country Boy.

With Exfiance, I have been terrible. I have been yelling at him over text and questioning everything. He told me the other day that he was sick and tired of me questioning what he's told me. I apologized for taking my anger out on him and being a bitch. It's not like I was harassing him, but he would text me and that would always end up with me picking a fight because I'm ridiculously angry at him for lying to me and hurting me for so long. I'm mad at myself for believing and defending him.

The other night, when I was up at 0200 the night before my class because I can't sleep lately, I wrote a text and decided not to send it because I didn't want to hurt him more than I have. I don't believe in revenge or hurting people just because they hurt me. However, since I couldn't tell him, I figured I would put it here so that I get it out. So, here it is: "I hate that I no longer get to be around your mom or your family in *other state* because I absolutely loved them. I hate that I have to get over the fact that the future I built in my head with you was all bullshit and will never happen. It makes me angry that I can't stop myself from wanting to talk to you, even though our relationship was based on lies and it wasn't ever really a healthy relationship by an means. I hate that my siled treatment doesn't last more than a few hours or a day with you. I hate that I haven't been able to sleep in days, even though I need to so that I can maybe escapre the constant noise and self-doubt in my head. I'm so angry at you and I hate that you made me cry. But, sometimes I hate that I can't cry because I'm out of tears and my heart moved on a long time ago. I hate that I'm so angry and that as soon as I had started feeling better from him (exboyfriend) and started trusting you, you found me and now I'm even worse than I was before. I hate yelling at you but I feel like I need to tell you these things. I hate having flashbacks of you, and him (exbf), and Country Boy every single stupid day. Several times an hour, in fact. I hate that I feel like there's nothing else for me to live for because I am completely convinced that I will never be happy, or be able to escape what has happened, for the rest of my life."

I know, I sound like such a bitch! That's why I didn't send it. This would have caused so much pain and damage to him. So, I never sent the text and I never will.

3) I miss their company. I miss all of them. Country Boy died way too early and he made me angry, but that was not reason for him to take his life and I still feel like it was at least partially my fault that he killed himself. Trial-run guy was my best friend for most of freshman year and a good chunk of sophomore year, but we don't talk much anymore and I miss his friendship and the way he would laugh at what I thought was funny, even if they were icky nursing stories or stiff he didn't understand. I miss exboyfriend for his calm demeanor and the way he showed me off to his friends and he was so proud to dance with me. I also miss the small-town life I got with him. I miss exfiance for the way we texted and called each other frequently. I would tell all of them about my day and what I was excited or upset about. I miss that sharing and having someone to talk to. I miss looking forward to hanging out with any of them and feeling special when we had a date planned. If only the best of each of them could be synthesized into one guy, I think we could work. That's unrealistic though.

4) Despite the good, I'm still angry with each of them. I'm angry with them for expecting sex from me. I hate that it was so easy for them to push me aside when they didn't "feel" like being with me or they found something more fun to do on a day we had plans. I'm angry at Country Boy for killing himself. I'm angry at my actual two boyfriends for abusing and assaulting me. I hate that they all made me love them for different reasons and then pushed me away slowly but surely and then they blame me for the break up.



I hate that I miss them. I strongly dislike that this is my history and the life I have to deal with. I hate that regardless of what happens in this life, I know that someone else has it worse. That makes me feel shallow, insignificant, and weak. I despise feeling that I'm not good enough. It breaks my heart daily that I still love all of them, even though I have been terribly hurt. I don't understand why I remain alive and keep waking up each morning. Why are break-ups so incredibly difficult? Why is this the path I walk? I'm terrified that I am the one to blame for all of my problems.

Still, I know the L-rd provides and cares for me.

This is the biggest mystery to me of all.

Wedding of a Friend

A friend of mine got married today to a really sweet girl. He is from my Messianic Congregation and I don't know how he met her, but she's been attending the congregation for awhile now too.

I truly hope they have a great life and I pray that their marriage is blessed.

With all the well wishes, I can't help but grieve the dreams of mine that were dashed. Little did I know my life would change so drastically in a year. It was New Year's Day at about 0100 in the morning that I met exboyfriend. I didn't know he would take my first kiss. I didn't know that my world would be shattered. I didn't know that my dreams of any type of a Happily Ever After would go up in flames just a few short months later.

I truly do try to be happy for my friends who get to live in their happy little fairy tales while I am getting beat to death by the reality of the turn my life took because a guy that I was introduced to along the way refused to keep his hands and other appendages to himself. I thought it was bad watching friends get married when I was single. This is so much worse.

I don't believe in fairy tale endings. I am a very grounded person and I have no illusions that married life will be unicorns and rainbows like many of my friends tend to believe. So, why then was this the path that I have to walk? Why is it that I was given this burden? Why is my dream of a simple life burnt to the ground when all I've ever tried to do is be kind and try to follow the L-rd.

I'm slipping from Him lately. It's hard to see His light at the end of the tunnel when there are so many goblins and trolls along my journey to get to Him.

I miss who I used to be. I wish I would have never met him and I wish my life was the way it was a year ago. If it was, I know I could survive. Right now, it's dicey to know if I'll wake up in the morning or not.

Fiance's Plea

He found the scars.

He asked what they were from, I refused to answer so he told me to leave. As I was leaving, he called me back.

He guessed the whole thing. He understood and he knew before he even asked. He was asking, hoping I wouldn't tell him what he already knew.

He held me and asked questions that I hated to answer. Reasons were always there when it was happening, but when asked I had no words to explain.

I cried. I cried like I haven't in months.

He is angry. He is sad. He is hurt. Most of all, I think he's scared. He, like everyone, thought he would be able to fix me. He told me counseling is stupid and a waste of time, when I was going. Now that I'm not going and he understands how bad I've been struggling, now he is begging me to go back.

Thing is, I already know what the counselor will say. So, why would I go?

After sleeping on it, and wondering about my reasons for hours, they are coming back.

• I hate what has been done to my body at the hands of other people.
• I hate that I have lost all my friends because they dug too deep then high-tailed it out, leaving me alone. So alone.
• There are rumors being spread about me by my own extended family, but none of them will tell me what is going on. The only thing they say is that there are rumors and that I should go ask someone else in the family what they are.
• I cannot stand going to class because of a select few people who trample all over the rest of the class. 
• I start crying at work because I don't think I do well at my job, my patients do not really care if they get better, I'm with them to keep them safe from themselves. Thus, the nurses and rest of the staff avoid the room at all costs.
• I do not see any type of "light at the end of the tunnel" after graduation, or in the rest of my life.
• I used to want to get married, have kids, and start a future. I no longer want to bring other beings into the world and I don't see how anyone will want to marry someone who is no longer pure. Plus, I don't want my kids to go through what I've been through, or worse.
• I don't want to be here anymore.

Not As Crazy As I Believe

I talked to a good buddy of mine. She's in nursing school with me and she knows Roomie (new) really well. I was talking with her, let's call her Millie (I just made up that name). We were talking about plans after graduation and where we wanted to live.

Then we got on the subject of why I was thinking about not moving to Mema's town to work in her hospital anymore. I told her that it seems that every time I live with someone, then it seems to wreck the relationship. Explaining further, I told her that I can come to class and be okay, and maybe even happy because I'm with my friends. Then, I can go about my day and deal with my own nonesense without them seeing that. However, when I live with people, I can't get away from them and they start to see my dark side. They watch the moods, the crazy amounts of sleep I get, my eating habits, and they know about my general moods at all points of the day/week.

This usually ruins my good friendships because nobody can handle me when I'm trying to handle my own stuff. That leads to questions. I can tell them I don't want to talk about it, but then they get upset that I'm not opening up. Other times, or after a long time of building trust, I start to share a molecule of an elephant with them. There are hundreds of elephants (problems) in my backyard (my mind) and I only share a molecule of ONE elephant with them. Nobody seems to be able to handle this little tiny bit and so they shut down, stop talking with me, and I feel like shit for sharing with them because now they have to carry that burden. This adds another elephant to my backyard.

So, I have two options: 1) don't share, continue to handle my own stuff because I know I can, and spare them the pain of dealing with any part of my burden, but deal with them being sad because I won't open up or 2) get close to them, share a bit of my life after awhile, start to trust them and rely on them to be there for me, and lose them when they realize that I'm not someone who can be saved and what I deal with is heavy, so heavy.

There's no winning.

I went through all of this with Millie and she told me she totally understands. She also told me that she doesn't share with Roomie, and also that Roomie has tried to dig into her (Millie's) life before too. I have been told that Beauty is good at digging and has tried to dig into many other people's lives as well. So, I'm not the only one finding these two friends of ours doing these things. Therefore, I'm not as crazy and I believe I am!

Also, we were sitting after clinicals, talking about some of the projects we are doing together as a clinical group. Some of the girls mentioned one of the other members and started venting about her frustration at the way the member tries to change everything we do and tell us all what to do. Now, the ones that were venting about this person are people that I get frustrated for doing the exact same things, but I'm glad that I am not the only one finding this about this particular member of the group. Out of 7 of us, there are 3 moms (all very used to taking control and all fighting for the control of our group all the time), 2 type-A people that assist in giving me headaches, and one other girl who, like me, does not give a flying rip about what we do. The other girl and I are just trying to survive the semester without banging our head against a wall all the time from the frustration we have at constantly being told 17 different things to do by the 3 taking control and the two type-A-er's.

I thought I was going crazy because I figured everyone was all hunky dory with everyone else in our group. Turns out, the same things and people that frustrate me are the same things/people that are irritating others. I'm not as crazy as I believe!

Ultimately, that realization was nice to have today. I'm glad that I'm not the only one thinking all these things and experiencing these stresses.

One of these days, I'll learn my lesson. One day I will learn that no matter how close I get to someone, I cannot tell them what's going on in my head. One day, I will go somewhere new, where I no nobody at all. I will start over and they will know nothing of my past. I will be cheery around them and save my baggage for myself and unload it when I am home alone. One day, I will learn. People can't handle the molecule, or even atom, that they ask to know. They just can't handle it. One day, I will learn this.

For now, I will get used to the loneliness that I had put aside because people wanted to get close. I will learn to deal with my shit on my own, again. I will move on and try to keep fighting another day. It will get easier again. I will be fine.

Irony About ER Screenings

I don't know about you, but at the hospitals I do clinicals at (there are three), the ER and most floors have a screening for domestic violence, self-harm, suicide ideation, and depression. The questions are simple:

1. Do you feel safe at home?
2. Do you feel safe in your relationship?
3. Are you depressed or feel down?
4. Do you harm yourself?
5. Do you ever wish that you would die or try to kill yourself?

Little questions like that are considered a screening. Now, they are kinda trick questions. By this, I mean that if you answer any of them wrong, then the proper authorities have to be informed and then your life is about to get a whole lot more stressful. If you say that you harm yourself or have thought about/tried to kill yourself, you now get to be under a 72 hour M1 hold in the hospital with the company of a sitter who watches your every move, every moment of the day (even when you use the bathroom). You then also have that in your chart and on your record. If you say you do not feel safe at home or in your relationship, then you might have the police come in and chat with you or child protective services come do a whole long investigation. Yikes.

I have been thinking a lot about this since having been in the ER as a patient and as a student nurse. We ask these questions, thinking they will be a help in some shape or form, but are they really? How easy is it to answer "no" to these questions when your heart is screaming "yes" (or vice versa, depending on the question) just because you know what will happen or you are scared to admit any of these things to yourself? When I went in, I answered appropriately to all questions to avoid the outcomes that would result upon answering any of them "incorrectly". After the assault, I was majorly depressed, I wished that G-d would allow me to die, and the temptation to begin self-harm again was at an all-time high. However, I knew that saying any of these things in the hospital would result in me actually being admitted to the hospital for a few days so that they can see if you're emotionally and mentally able to be released out into the world. So, what good do these questions really do? I have seen so many nurses go into a room and not ask these questions to the patients because the nurse felt it was unnecessary to do so.

In my last med/surg clinical group, my instructor brought up a good point about getting help for depression and suicide: there aren't really great systems to get help. If you go somewhere and say you're depressed and struggling to not hurt/kill yourself, people will lock you away, then you learn to not seek help for your emotional struggles which will likely lead to suicide. If you go somewhere to talk to a counselor, professor, or whomever else you choose to confide your struggles to, you can explain your symptoms of depression, but leave out that you are struggling to stay alive, but then you cannot receive the help you truly need because you have one of the deepest, darkest secrets that will eat a hole right through you until you either end up dying, or you somehow find hope to survive long enough to get out of the depression.

For me, the depression lasts years. I don't go anywhere for help because counseling didn't work in the past, I know what happens if you say the wrong thing and I'm scared of going through that, friends don't know how to support me when I can't figure out how to be happy, and nobody understands, they think I'm being dramatic and a whiner. So, I live with the knowledge of the things I've done, I wear the scars, and I battle with myself daily. When friends ask what is wrong, they usually persist in the beginning of the friendship to figure out what is happening in my mind, once they find out, they stop asking and I stop telling. This usually causes big rifts and eventually we move on from each other. Yet, I am still saddled with the constant war, fatigue, struggles to remain alive, sleeping for several days straight to escape without dying, distracting myself when I feel so numb that I know hurting myself would at least offer a chance at coming back to reality and feeling something, and I deal with it all by myself because people don't stick around once they get a glimpse of the darkness they tried so hard to uncover.

That's probably one of the hardest things to deal with: losing friends because they don't feel close if you don't tell them every single thing that runs through your brain, but once they figure out what you deal with then they no longer want anything to do with you. I end up feeling used, hurt, sad, angry, more depressed, and I deal with a lot of guilt because they tell me how hard it is to watch me and listen to me go through my depression cycles. I've watched a lot of people cry at my expense because of that and I am about to lose another roommate because of that.

In my defense, I try to keep it a secret and keep it at bay. Pretending to be happy and carefree is not all that hard, but my face doesn't keep secrets at all and so they start digging. It happens every time I get a friend and we start to get close. Going through this just makes me want to stay superficial with everyone I meet because they like me when it's just a "hey, how are you?" kind of friendship. Unfortunately, girls don't really stand around and bullshit like guys do, they want to explore feelings, family life, and other happenings that involve deeper levels of intimacy. And so, the cycle continues and it pushes me deeper and deeper into my pit. I keep more secrets from everybody, and I refuse to trust anyone because everybody lies.

So, that is where I am and what I've been thinking about for several months now. Something needs to be done in this country to fix the "suicide prevention" system that is currently in place because there are an awful lot of suicides and even more suicidal people out there and nobody seems to be getting much help where they feel safe to share what's truly going on in their minds. I want to change things, but I don't even know where to begin. Maybe it could prevent deaths like Country Boy's, maybe he could have had a better chance.

Just a Little Story

There was once a girl who was a little lonely and hoping for a boy to come along that she could marry, but she was independent and mostly happy alone.

One day, she decided to go to a dance out in the country with her roommate, roommate's family, and some of her own family as well.

She hadn't danced with anyone all night until a boy came up and asked her. He asked for her number and they eventually began dating.

Her family liked him and his family liked her. This was her first boyfriend but he had had several past relationships. She was worried about his vast level of experience, but stayed with him because he seemed sweet. Two months into the relationship, something wasn't right.

 They were hanging out one weekend and he took it too far. She repeatedly told him no and to stop, but he did not.

She broke up with him.

She was so ashamed but G-d told her that what she experienced was not her fault, she did what was legally required and he should have stopped.

She went to the ER for a sane exam a few days later. The nurses were very sweet and she found support and reassurance.

They told her it was not her fault. She learned she is not pregnant and she was fully examined to ensure no physical trauma was present.

Though she must now deal with this brokeness for the rest of her life and she will now have to explain it to her future husband, she has faith the L-rd redeems and brings beauty from the ashes. She's not okay, but she will be okay again one day.

Living with Regret

At one point or another, we all do something we regret. It could be taking a candy bar from the store, saying something that ends up hurting someone else, or going back on a personal promise made to G-d. I think I've done them all, but the last one is really getting to me. I kissed a boy before my wedding day.

Now, this isn't really a big deal. It was just a kiss and it's not like I dropped my pants and gave the guy my everything. Even then, it wouldn't be the end of the world. So why am I losing sleep over this small act? Why is it that I can have a lovely weekend with the boy, kissing him every once in awhile, and think nothing of it while I'm with him. Yet, as soon as I get in the car, my heart sinks to the floor and I am left with this nagging pain in my gut. I am faced with a whisper saying that I gave my first kiss away because I wasn't strong enough to maintain my boundaries. This is the voice of the enemy, but I cannot silence him because I have strayed from the L-rd. I have wandered outside of His flock in search of a love that only He can give and now I've given a piece of myself that I was saving for my husband.

No doubt the L-rd forgives. L-rd willing, my future husband will forgive me as well. Still, I cannot help but wish I could go back in the past and change that moment. Go back and not have given it away. But alas, G-d allows us to learn from our mistakes and move forward into the next set of mistakes. We are blessed to have a teaching G-d who also forgives when we mess up. Now I just wonder how to fix this. I don't know if I can.

My fear is of breaking hearts. I am terrified that life will become awkward and difficult in my small town situation with my life so intertwined with his. This is why I don't date, I can't handle hurting anyone else so I stay even if I hurt in the process.

I have to confess that I almost started cutting the other night. This is not healthy. I didn't do it, but the urge was stronger than I've felt since before my extremely rough season in 8th grade. My nausea and dizziness have resurfaced and my happiness (not joy, just superficial happiness) has disappeared. In it's wake, I am left hurting and scared. This happiness was just a momentary false front from the excitement that a boy was showing interest in me. I should not be depending on this in order to feel wanted, but I fell for it again. (P.S. I talked to Boyfriend and Beauty about the cutting ideations. I'm not going down that road again.)

More Suicides!?!

Dad's friend's wife just committed suicide. Nobody knew she was depressed until they found her suicide note. She sat in a closed garage with all of their cars running and I think the husband found her. I'm still numb.

It's been a year since Country Boy died.

At lunch mom wondered how nobody could tell she was depressed. I mentioned that many people don't know when others are depressed and brought up that I have been depressed since 5th or 6th grade and she didn't know. She got sad and asked if I had ever had suicidal thoughts. I told her I tried at least 5 times in 8th grade. Mom started crying. Brother was there and he didn't know what to do. I didn't either and I still feel so bad for breaking my mom's heart like that but shouldn't she know? I went and sat next to her because we were in a restaurant and I knew she needed a hug. Now she asks me how I'm doing all the time. She told me that if I ever feel sad or if I am not happy when I get married that I shouldn't try to kill myself but should call her instead. She hasn't told Dad yet. We don't know if that would help him decide to get treatment for his depression/bipolar or if it would just hurt/anger him and possibly push him over the edge.

Life is such a struggle but no excuse to kill yourself. On a selfish note, my list of suicides needs to stop growing.

Sweetness Turned Bitter

This weekend was really eye-opening. It was a little bit crazy. My head is still spinning and my heart is a little bit broken. Let's explore why, shall we?

Friday I went on another date with the new fella. I was sick so we mainly just drove around town. He stopped and helped some people who had gotten their car stuck on a back-road but they weren't listening to his advice, even though he is a mechanic, and so we left. He was supposed to sign the papers for his house that day but they ended up pushing that back for the billionth time but he got the keys to his house. Oh, and Roommate's sugar glider died while she was babysitting. I found him dead when I got back from the date. I feel really bad because that is the second small animal that has died on my watch in the past few months. He was doing okay until I went to feed him and he was super lethargic so I think he might have had a really bad electrolyte imbalance or an infection of some sort.

Saturday he had to work in the morning so he swung by and picked me up after work. He helped me get the dead critter out of his cage and get him all comfy for burial. Then I cleaned up the cage and took it all with us out to Roommate's house (which is near his place). We drove out to his current place. I met his grandparents. They took us to lunch and then we went out and saw his new place. It's a really nice house and his grandparents are so adorable! Then he brought me back into town and we went to Brother's house so they could meet, the local feed/clothing store, the home improvement store to look at paint and appliances for his house. That was kinda funny because people kept asking me if I needed help but I'm not even the one buying the house or the appliances. I think they thought we were engaged or married because I had my purity rings on my left hand ring finger... He took me to dinner and we played pool for awhile. Then I had him take me home because I was exhausted and I wanted him to be able to have a decent chance at sleep. But I swung by brother's house so I could talk the day over with him real quick.

When he brought me to Roommate's mom's house to drop off the critter, New Fella was acting really weird. He told me that he had taken Roommate's cousin on a couple dates and didn't want to see her so I let him stay in the car. There was a family gathering in the house and the cousin was there. When I walked in I was getting death glares but I ignored them because I didn't think I had done anything wrong. Little did I know, New Fella started talking to me the same time he started talking to Roommate's cousin. He took her on a couple dates right before he started taking me on dates. He explained all of this in the car ride on the way back to town (45 minute drive) and all of the puzzle pieces started falling into place. He kept saying things to me on the first couple dates that were just off but I brushed them aside because he had been drinking the night we met. Turns out he was just confusing the two of us.

Oh, but it gets better! Right after he explains all of this to me, we go walking around the feed store. Guess who we run into in the store! Go ahead, guess! The cousin's mom. Guess who we parked next to... The cousin's mom and the cousin's dad was in the truck! Guess who just so happened to be driving the exact way we needed to be going to get to Brother's house... You're so smart, the same people! New Fella was flustered and super red all over. I thought it was funny at the time, but the more I think about it and talk with Roommate, the more it bugs me. Why was she so convinced the relationship was going so well that she called him her boyfriend after only a couple of dates? I know what it is like to be the other girl in this situation and I got so mad! You know who did it to me? If you've been reading and maybe keeping track with my roundabout thought process, you'll know that's what Country Boy did before I stopped talking to me and he died shortly after that. I don't need trouble with Roommate's family and his grandmother works with Roommate's mom at the town bank. I went to a dance New Year's Eve and I get dropped into a huge, dramatic ordeal after only talking with this boy for maybe three weeks. Is this the L-rd telling me it's a no-go? The L-rd already told me it wouldn't last and I prayed for signs for the New Fella (NF) because that's what NF goes off of instead of prayer and hearing from the L-rd.

Recap of why Saturday was rough: Sugar Glider died and I had to take it to Roommate's house to be buried. This uncovered huge drama with the cousin.

Today (Sunday) I slept in and then he came back into town to go to an antique store with his cousin and the cousin's girlfriend. It was pretty fun! But we were clicking so well and now something feels wrong. It all just feels wrong which sucks because it was going really well. It was easy to talk about liking each other. It was easy to hold hands and just chill. It was easy to share some of my secrets with him. We agree and give the same answers to so many questions that we ask each other to get to know each other. It was easy but it just feels heavy now.

I need to talk with him and explain my situation but I have a hard time bringing up these tough conversations. Things were getting good, we were meeting each others friends and families. We were discussing hypothetical children and fake weddings. I am currently helping him situate his house and get it decorated.

If this is the end I don't want to wait forever for another guy to come along. I have been praying for years, I have gone through some pretty heavy stuff to get to this point and I was so excited that I am happy. I am the traditional kind of happy because I finally met a guy that has a ton of things in common with me and we mesh so much better than Country Boy and I did. I finally felt cherished by a human guy and I just started to understand why people act funny when they find a significant other.

Even though I don't want to wait forever for another guy, I also don't know that this is completely right. It's hard feeling like I have something that I've wanted for so long dangled in front of my face only to have it snatched right back after only a couple of weeks. It's hard to know that I will have to blindly trust the L-rd to either bring me someone else or allow me to be single for another frickin' long season of life, it feels like this is my millionth long and tough season of trusting. I'm heavy with disappointment and yet I am still talking with New Fella as if everything were okay because I haven't gotten enough courage built up to bring up the hard stuff.

Well, that's not what I expected.

Y'all remember the date I was going to go on? It ended up getting cancelled because of weather. The guy lives about an hour outside of town and his town was getting hammered with snow and the roads were really icy so we decided to postpone. My heart sunk a little when he texted me that but we ended up talking anyways, well, texting. I am really looking forward to going out with him and I hope he really is too. Besides the panic attacks and bad nervousness that is typically accompanying me, I am not normally one to get worked up or excited about boys. This guy, though. Let's just go over my schedule from the time he asked for my number until now.

We danced. He asked for my number. We danced again. We went to a party and DOMINATED beer pong (remember, I was cheating a little bit by not drinking...). I wait two painful days for him to text me and I worried the whole time that he didn't really think I would be worth the time or that he had forgotten me entirely. He finally texts. He asks me out for the next night. I clean house all day, scrubbing almost every inch of our apartment to keep my nerves at bay and to hopefully get it all ready for him to see it. Date got cancelled and my heart sunk. We texted back and forth for hours anyways and found a lot of common interests. He texted me again this morning and we talked for a solid three or four hours before I decided I needed to take a nap before work tonight. Now I'm waiting to get called into work and updating you on my life which was a lot more interesting from my vantage point before blogging it... I need to learn how to tell stories better.

This guy has me staying up for hours at night because I can't stop thinking about him and I keep waking up early. He's in my dreams and I keep replaying the times we danced and hung out even though it was super short-lived. Am I blowing this all out of proportion? Is he going to regret going out with me if/when he discovers he's not going to get a kiss from me unless we get hitched? Roommate's mom was talking him up the whole time I was at her house and I've heard so much about him. I distinctly remember he telling me that she approves of us dating (which is big because she's like family now) and that he would "treat me like a queen." He's pretty much the most wanted eligible bachelor in the three-town area he hangs out in. He's not scared of marriage and he was engaged for a while but they broke up this summer though I haven't heard why. He's giving me butterflies and I'm dreaming about him but can't decide if it's the idea of a sweet country boy liking me or if there is really something here. He's got a great job, he's fixin' to buy a house (in the town I have been dreaming of living in since I was little), and he seems really smart. He likes going to museums which I'm hoping means he likes learning. He likes going to antique stores and is planning on decorating his house with antiques which I think will require tremendous amounts of patience. He can fix a lot, from what I've gathered about his job as a mechanic/everything man. He grew up in the country, on a farm, and knows how to handle animals and crops. Plus, on top of everything else, I think he's pretty stinkin' cute.

This whole thing also brings up a lot of insecurities. Will he decide I'm not worth his time or money? Why did the engagement get broken? Will this make going to the town dances awkward if it doesn't work out? Will he pressure me to break my boundaries? Does he go to church? I know I can ask him that, but I just haven't yet because I'm scared of the answer.

Will I be enough?

I know you have read all this in a lot of my posts and I keep hoping and working to make these fears subside, even if just by a little bit. Will they ever even go away?

Found This Randomly On Pinterest

So I found this randomly on Pinterest today while trying to learn how to do my makeup... How it got to this type of subject matter, I'm not sure.

This post nearly broke my heart again because there is hardly a day I go for more than a few hours before getting reminded of Country Boy. I still see guys that look like him in the store and my heart skips a beat. I dream of him. I can't go into Super Targets that have a Starbucks inside because that was our/my first "date"-like thing. When I get dressed up I wonder how he would have reacted. When I go dancing I wonder if he would have danced with me. I only knew him for a few months but he was the first guy to make me actually feel like a girl instead of one of the guys, or some stupid chick that just shows up randomly at fun events.

Suicide broke my heart and continues to break it several times a day. Please forgive the language in this picture/post, I don't use this kind of language, but it captures a bit of the anger and pain I feel.

Heavy Heart and An Empty Room

Brother moved out yesterday after we got in a huge fight. I knew he was moving out, thus the reason for me packing the night before, but he came back yesterday to begin collecting all of his things and we just had it out. The yelling match only lasted for about 15 minutes until he concluded that he, "just couldn't handle this anymore." He proceeded to slam the door in my face and take a shower. At that point I hopped in my car and drove the hour and a half back to Home-base. I waited for my mom to get home from shul and we just talked for about 6 hours. Praise the L-rd that I live so close to home but not close enough to be there every night.

Guys, I cried that entire car ride. Let me tell you, when you are angry and bawling, it's really hard to see how fast you're going. Thankfully G-d was watching out for me and didn't let me get a ticket but I was going about 90 mph at one point in a 65-75 mph zone.

It feels like I lost my brother though. That is what hurts the most. When we were little kids, we fought, but it was just little things. You know, my brother would poke me so I would scream at him. He would like a girl so I would tease him until he punched me... Normal sibling stuff. Now, it takes nothing for us to be in a room and go from laughing to yelling. Just the most random little things set either of us off. He got really aggressive ever since his testosterone hit full gear and his voice dropped. I was informed by my mom that a few years ago I started to get weepy and I was able to be set off a lot easier. I'm thinking that's when all of my estrogen's decided to take over. Stupid hormones. I am praying that this is only a phase and that we can be pals again like we used to but right now I'm not seeing the light.

Tonight, my brother's room is completely empty and my heart is following with emptiness and this deep deep longing for him to come back. I fear for his safety living with boys who are drinking and partying almost every night. They skip class and think it's funny to fail classes. Some of them are sleeping around with random girls and doing "recreational" drugs. Depending on who you ask, cocaine could be a "recreational drug." I don't even know where he lives because I don't want to go meet his roommates and he doesn't even really want me to know where he lives.

Why does it feel like my life is falling apart? This blog was supposed to be about the funny things that happen or good-to-know tips about nursing school and college life. Instead, I just come here to complain and pour out my heart.

The Passing of a Friend

Do y'all remember Country Boy? He comes up quite frequently in my posts because he confuses me. He gets me all sorts of excited for his attention but bugs me at the same time because I crave his attention.

Well, turns out he passed away about two weeks ago.

I'm in shock.

I don't know what to do. This is the first time I can remember a friend dying. I keep going through anger, sadness, questioning, doubt that this really happened, then I'm jolted back to believing that this is reality and not some movie that I can stop and rewind. I feel a lot of guilt. Guilt because I could have texted him. I've been thinking about him for about a month now which usually means that he is about to text me. I fought with the idea of texting him first, but I decided it was a bad idea. Then I start playing the what-if game. What if I had texted him way back a couple of weeks ago when I had wanted to to see how he was? What if I had actually gone to hang out with him the couple of times he invited me somewhere, especially the last time that was about 2-4 weeks ago? What if I had been sending him snap chats when I learned that he had added me on it? What if I had not just said "no thanks" the last time he asked me out and instead said "I'm sorry but I just got a boyfriend and he's a little jealous" or "I think I'm just going to stay in this weekend, but maybe we could go shooting some time"? What if, what if, what if...

He was supposed to turn 20 this Friday. I had been waiting to text him until his birthday. It was taking all I could muster to wait until then. 

I suspected he had depression. I figured that's why he had a tendency to talk to a lot of girls and why he seemed to always have a girlfriend. See, his dad died last year a little after Valentine's Day. He really loved his dad and the father's death happened really unexpectedly due to a heart attack or something. It was a traumatic way to see his dad die because by the time the ambulance arrived at their house, nothing could be done. He talked about how his best friend and his sister were dating and then broke up. When that happened he lost his best friend (they used to see each other every day) and he said he didn't have any other real friends. He had gotten into a car wreck a few months back and had some really bad pain from that. He told me about how he had gotten into marijuana back in high school and how he had gotten into trouble for doing other stuff and all of this lead him to getting kicked out of high school. He then went to a high school program for troubled teens that allowed them to finish their high school career while also doing college work. He ended up graduating high school and getting an Associate's degree at the same time. He had recently started a new job that he liked significantly more than his previous one at a retail store and he was going back to school to get more certifications and maybe even a degree in mechanical engineering. He turned his life around and he seemed to be doing great.

After he told me a little about his past, I told him I thought it was great that he was so young and yet had gotten so much done. He brushed it off out of either humility or disbelief that he was actually being genuinely complimented on his accomplishments. I have a feeling it was the latter.

He had offered to take me hunting this fall. I had gotten really excited and almost went right out and bought head-to-toe camo. He had said I was gorgeous. He wanted to hang out with me and had asked me out but agreed to be just friends for awhile. We talked about needles and sterile fields and he ribbed me about how I thought learning sterile field was cool in college but he had learned it in high school. We almost took an EMT class together because we both thought it would be amazing to be EMT's. He told me he thought I was smart and funny and, did I mention, gorgeous? That was after he met me for the first time and I was a wreck because I had just gotten off of work and he was helping us get back into my friend's house after the whole evacuation ordeal.

I've been informed that his death was likely self-inflicted.

I could have helped. I could have texted or talked to him on Facebook or Snap Chatted him. He could have texted me! I would have driven right to him and talked him through his troubles. He could have called! I would have prayed with him and talked him through the struggles. He could have reached out. I could have shared my story of near suicides and my season of severe depression. I could have let him know that there is help and people can listen to him so that he doesn't have to bear the weight of life alone.

How do I process this? How do I not go over the past month repeatedly until it is fixed and he is back with us and this is all just a bad dream that I will wake up from? How do I keep myself from being eaten alive by the guilt and the what-if's? How do I handle the first death of a friend? Not just any death, but a suicide? How do I not blame myself for not talking to him when I thought of him? What am I supposed to do?