Down the Tunnel It Goes

I had my first session of EMDR this last week. It has helped tremendously, so far! I have not yet had to terrible of nightmares and I've been able to remain in the moment better than I had been in the past couple of weeks. I'm really hoping that this continues to be a good form of therapy for me.

Just in case you guys are at all curious about it, I wanted to share a little bit about what my experience was like.

So first thing that happened when I went in was that the therapist asks what I want to work on. I went in with a very specific plan to work on exbest friend's stuff because it has been causing me a great deal of distress for a long time now.

She gave me the little buzzing paddles and asked me to pick the intensity and speed that I wanted to use for the memory. I set it accordingly and she had me describe the memory. She says I can tell her as little or as much as I want. She kept asking questions, as counselors/therapists do, but I didn't go into as much detail as I had to using exposure therapy (you have to use as much detail as possible).

We started with e getting comfortable and holding the paddles. We started with letting my mind go to the memory. She checked in with me to have me describe what I was feeling and going through. We went another cycle and the memory and feelings got more intense. She checked in again. This cycle lasted several times, then she had me sit with the memory and the physical feelings and the thoughts that came up. After a few cycles of that (memory + buzzing, then a check-in), the memory started to reveal several things to me.

Personally, this process brought up the ways I tried to fight and then showed me the 7+ ways I was triggered that reverted my brain into trauma mode and sent it back to it's original conditioning. While this likely does not make much sense without going through the process, it was incredibly freeing to be able to go back into a memory that my brain was constantly reliving for months and to be able to process it with such clarity.

Then, as I started to process the triggers, and what I had done to prevent the cursed even from occurring in the first place, the oddest thing happened in my brain and I saw it as clear as a movie: the memory faded and started going down a tunnel. It was partially filed in said tunnel, but not like my normal filing where I put it away to try to process it later with my counselor. No, this time it was filed as something I had survived and what I had done right and why I couldn't stop it.

Now, this memory is much less disturbing and my brain has released it from continually coming up and causing nightmares, flashbacks, and the subsequent dissociation/depression. I've been able to wake up without sleeping 14+ hours, be on time, get ready without losing track of time, and I've been engaged and happy instead of a constant flat affect and no energy. All of these things are my signs of dissociation and depression.

I'm not saying that this process was not difficult. I cried. I cried like big, burning tears from a place of deep hurt and betrayal. However, it was far less distressing than continually having your brain try to process a memory and failing because you are stuck between short and long term memory, and you can't find the reason/logic/emotion between anything. My brain was ridiculously overwhelmed and this allowed me to process it effectively.

Guys, I'm very grateful for my counselor recommending this type of therapy. I had come a long way in counseling, but there are things that set us back on our road to recovery. Sometimes these roadblocks refuse to move and our brains cannot go "there" to knock the block down because it is too distressing. At this point in my recovery, I was able to go through the EMDR process and receive relief and help. When the counselor at my college (who was 1] untrained in trauma help and 2] unpracticed in EMDR) tried to use this therapy, I was too far in the trauma brain and had not processed anything at all. By starting in therapy/counseling first, getting to a place of healing, then trying this intensive therapy, I was able to finally have coping skills in place and be able to understand my recovery process much better.

I'll keep you guys posted on if it continues to be helpful or if I start getting some of the terrible side effects. So far, however, I'm hanging in there.

EMDR

When I went through my first traumatic instance with ex-boyfriend, I went to my college and attempted to get counseling. The counselors there are not familiar with trauma, they counsel students more through depression, anxiety, problems with school, and other such "student" problems.

One of the counselors was trained in EMDR... I think... She told me she was not super familiar and that she would need to reference the manual frequently to help me through the process. We didn't talk about anything that would have normally been covered in counseling, we just jumped right in to EMDR processes. I couldn't even hold it together to find my safe place without crying hysterically. Okay, not hysterically, but I couldn't breathe enough to talk using more than 1 syllable words at a time.

Fast-forward to my last counseling session: It was my third week in a row where I cried and dissociated. So, at the end, she suggested I try EMDR because I have been shutting down a lot lately and after all of the progress I had made, I was starting to rapidly backslide to where I was on week 2 or 3.

So my homework for the week was to just think about calling someone about EMDR. Well, I went to work after that counseling session, Googled all about the EMDR process: what to expect, what it would be like, what the goal is, etc. I proceeded to email my sweet little counselor right away at like 0300 that I would give it a shot. She woke up, sent me a list of names, and I made an appointment when I woke up at 3 p.m.

I'm still really nervous for what I'm going to have to go through, what I'm going to uncover, and what I will have to re-live, but I'm hoping it goes well and helps me. I've heard that nightmares are common and that it is common to need to process what happened in the session for the remainder of the night or even for the next couple of days.

I had my first session yesterday and it went well. We did a "practice" round with a "lightly distressing" memory so I could see how the process worked. I chose traffic, and our practice session made me surprisingly less anxious about the prospect of sitting in traffic. Granted, it's not a traumatic memory, but I hope that it will work similarly for the bad stuff. I've heard from several people who have had parents or friends go through this process that it has helped them.

I'll keep y'all posted.

Christian Lingo

If you know of anyone who goes to church, I'm sure you are familiar with the Christian Lingo. Church-goers say things about "forgiveness", "redemption", "mercy", "grace", a "broken past", "difficult seasons", etc, etc, etc.

Now, G-d does do all of these things! However, it's a pet peeve of mine, when I go to church or a bible study, and these are the only words out of the person's mouth but they don't go into any of the nitty gritty stuff. They don't tell you what G-d brought them through, or forgave them from, or how He showed them mercy and grace. 

Is the Bible not made up of hundreds of stories? G-d doesn't just say "forgiven, mercy, redeemed, forgiven, blah, blah, blah," over and over again. He gives us examples! He gives us stories! He lets us see what thing happened, how He worked, and what the results were.

In this way, He helps give us examples of how life worked out for others and He talks on most life issues.

Recently, I went to a bible study where our guest speaker talked for 45 minutes without saying a thing. She repeated "love" and "redeemed" and "broken past" and the other few words in the list above over and over for 45 minutes. We periodically listened to a podcast that had more of the same and listened to a couple songs that, you guessed it, repeated the same words.

I left frustrated.

In the car, at 9:30 p.m., I called my mom for a debriefing on the way home because I was confused. In the process of my drive home, she and I hashed it all and I realized that I had heard nothing. Nothing of this teachers life, no stories, no meat and potatoes, no information whatsoever. It was like going to a mall and getting suckers into one of those kiosks in the middle where the salesperson will talk to you with the same 6 words over and over for 45 minutes and you feel like you've lost weeks of your life. There was no learning, no help, no encouragement because there was no substance.

Growing up, I experienced this many times. I think it's a large reason why people stop going to church, stop going to Bible studies, and stop trying to learn about the L-rd. Yes, it's hard to fight past the crap to be able to get to actual information that can be any type of help and can bring excitement to the learner. However, if you work to get to the interesting stuff, and keep fighting for learning worth while things, it is so worth it! There is such blessing to be discovered!

And, for those of you that fight to get to the meat and potatoes of the Word and of G-d's teachings, share that learning with others!!! We don't have to leave the teaching to pastors, t.v. teachers, and random preachers. Anyone who is willing to learn can be willing to share with others. Obviously, make sure that you are sharing truths only, but you could be responsible for helping keep another person from letting their faith fade because they don't have the energy to wade through the crap.

Keep on my friends.

I'll keep you posted with what it is that I'm learning. So far I've filled up almost 1/3 of a notebook in less than a week. So far I'm studying women in the bible and it is shocking how many of them experienced abuse, trauma, suffering, and other heartaches. It's shocking to me that these types of stories are not shared!!! Especially in a time when the #metoo movement is so prevalent and girls/women/everyone are looking for support and love through their journey to healing after trauma.

Overwhelmed

As you have read over the past several months, I have been feeling this call for me to begin sharing my story. I feel like I am meant to share bits of my story, in order to hopefully either prevent others from walking the same road I've walked, or to help others who are healing by walking along side them and being able to connect with them in that way. There are countless other ways that stories can be used, like showing G-d's great power and redemption and love for us... etc.

During this time, after G-d whispered that He wanted me to begin to share, I began "researching" what it meant to share a story... personal story... Trying to get a handle on what it would mean to share my story. After weeks of torturing myself and over-thinking things (I mean, I never do that... Ha, that's a joke, I'm a pro over-thinker!), I kinda just coasted and stopped my intensive search for understanding on this matter. When I began to forget about this mission G-d gave me, that's when He began bringing the answers to me instead of me going to find them!

Side note: it is important to seek answers. When G-d gives you a mission, ask Him how He wants you to fulfill it! It seems so simple, right? He wants you to do something, of course He'll know how you need to go about doing things to accomplish the task at hand. Now, while this is true, He won't always show/tell you what/how to do things right away. There may be days, weeks, months, or even years of waiting. The seasons of waiting are important, wonderful, and incredibly difficult oftentimes. This is where the true growth comes from. If G-d just gave you the end result without the suffering (my word, not His) in the middle, then where would we have chances to increase our faith and trust? When would we get a chance to hear Him in the whisper or watch Him part the Red Sea? If there is no time or chance for Him to work in our lives, how will we learn to recognize His hand at work? It's all about the process, not just about the goal and end. In the waiting, continue to seek Him, to ask Him about what it is you're supposed to be doing, and LISTEN! You have to remain active and don't just expect a miracle without putting in some sort of leg work and showing a little bit of faith.

For me, with my story, it was in the least expected ways that He began to weave the theme of "story" throughout my life for several weeks. In the bible study I was in, suddenly the whole bible study began discussing the importance of sharing your story and what it can show about G-d and how it can help others. I began another bible study with some ladies and the book was solely stories of some amazing women that have walked difficult roads (Surprised by the Healer by Linda Dillow and Juli Slattery). The bible study focused on our stories. I did not continue on with the study, but I appreciate where they are coming from and trying to accomplish. My group therapy is all about our stories! We have stories within our bigger picture story and us being able to connect within all of these layers. I was getting bombarded with these things from all angles for weeks and weeks!!!


Through all of this, I have been incredibly blessed by some stories, and incredibly taken aback by others. There are times where I can feel so bonded with certain people over the bits of their story that they share. Whereas other stories can build up walls and cause friction between friends. It's a fine line learning to share enough in vulnerability and sharing as a means of a verbal dumping (*aka: verbal diarrhea*). On the one had, vulnerability shows a place of growth, the beginning of healing, and an earnest desire for the person to move forward from that dark place. In the verbal dumping, the person cannot stop sharing. They tend to share far too many details, cannot and will not accept encouragement of gentle counseling related to the stories they share. This type of sharing is best done with a counselor because it is a form of processing where your mind and heart are still trying to simply remember the details and the person sharing is not really able to move forward from that place yet. Sharing in this was does not benefit the sharer nor the person listening because there is no lesson to be learned (on the surface), there is no help to be rendered, and there is not a desire or willingness to move on from simply remembering what has happened.

While sharing, even in this verbal dumping phase (can also occur via writing, L-rd knows y'all have read my verbal dumpings several times!), is important on the road to healing, it is a dangerous place to be. This place is an area that can continue to cause further hurt to the sharer because of a lack of boundaries. Lack of boundaries to know who to share these things with and who to keep these things from. There is a danger in sharing with others because the other person can become severely impacted by what they learn! These things can cause a sort of secondary trauma to the listener, if the listener is not legitimately and professionally trained. Due to the disparities of why things are dangerous to different parties involved, huge walls can be built. The listener will begin to back away, clam up, and have a difficult time being around the sharer. The sharer, sensing this, can begin to internalize this imposed isolation as being their fault and they may believe they deserve to be isolated because of the things they've experienced (I'm not speaking from experience or anything...). This can begin a terrible cycle of self sabotage and isolation when community can be so very healing.

However, like I said before, it's all a process. Without the trial and error of sharing ith the wrong people, how are you going to be able to test boundaries and learn what is okay to share, when is the right time, and who deserves to hear certain aspects of your story (and go slowly with the sharing!!!). There is beauty in the process, and great things to be gained from the suffering of going through it. Don't cause suffering trying to bring about the process of healing and learning these things. I assure you, the process will take place all without you forcing anything. But go about it prayerfully, and while listening to the L-rd. You guys know, that's a process unto itself.



While I was processing all of these things about story sharing, learning safe was to share and what it looks like to verbally dump, and beginning to understand why we need healing to be a process, I had an interesting theme come up.

I just so happened to be on the receiving end of my friend's story. I was attempting to lovingly counsel her in a strictly friendly way, using my tiny little bit of nursing counseling skills with my ability to comfort. However, despite whatever I said, or did to encourage her, or how I responded, none of it was to any use. She didn't accept comfort. She didn't want to be encouraged to change her life. She did not want any counsel, G-dly or otherwise. She didn't want anything but a listening ear, and I think that was even optional. What she needed, was to simply talk. This was a classic example of a verbal dump. My offered help was shot down, and none too lightly. She asked for advice and input, but would promptly refuse it.

Throughout all of this encouragement, counseling, listening, and attempt to help her solve the problems she asked for advice for, she kept saying she keeps asking for a miracle. She says things like: if only G-d would perform a miracle (and she gave specific examples of what she wanted the miracle[s] to be), then her life would be better. If only things happened the way she required, without her changing her life choices or lifestyle at all, then she would be able to believe in G-d and her life would be able to be turned around. She wants community, but doesn't want to wake up a little early to go to church, or take time to go to a bible study, or do anything to go an find people to add to her social circle. She wants to be married to a wonderful man, who is pure and kind and patient and gracious, but she does not want to give up the dating culture she has cultivated for herself. She wants a marriage, convinced that marriage will solve all of her problems and make her happier than she ever imagined, but she refuses to make steps to make herself marry-able, upstanding, desirable for a man who would be willing to settle down, and she refuses to make any lifestyle changes whatsoever.

As frustrating as this sounds, do we not all do it? If only G-d kept me from sexual abuse, terrible boyfriends, and gave me the husband/life I wanted when I wanted it, then my life would be better. If only He would bring a miracle about, then I would be able to change my heart and my life will follow. If only this had happened, then life could get better and I would be happy and there would be no further problems in my life.

Lies!

We all know G-d could perform a miracle and drop a guy into your lap and this guy could treat you like a queen. He could be pure and kind and gracious and forgiving and absolutely wonderful beyond belief! However, if you have not worked with the L-rd to fix your life, then don't expect it to be solved because home-boy is now in the picture. If you have unhealthy coping skills that are causing major problems in your life (i.e. drinking to deal with stress and bad days, smoking, sleeping with guys to feel better when you're feeling down, etc.), these things will only pop back up when you face those problems when within the marriage. Don't think those problems won't come back to bite you and when that happens, you will be highly likely to be tempted by your previous "coping skills". When tempted, if it has not been addressed and worked through (even if only partially) before the miracle marriage takes place, then there is a very slim chance that the habit will just have been broken by a marriage. And, when such a "coping skill" is reverted back to within a marriage, how wil that effect your spouse? If you cope with feeling bad about yourself by sleeping with the next guy that you think is cute and that feeds you some lines about how adorable you are, how will that (sex with another guy) effect your spouse and your marriage? This problem will come up again and just being married will not fix it nor will it automatically cause you to depend on your spouse for full validation for that problem.

Do you guys see what I'm saying?

Now, this is all fine and dandy, but I felt like G-d was saying something more about this. I still demand miracles sometimes. How dumb am I? I can't demand G-d to do anything! He'll just laugh at me and do whatever it is that He wanted to do anyway. All in a loving way, of course.

Upon further prayer and much thought, especially when in the shower and driving, it occurred to me that most miracles occurred after some sort of step of faith. Ruth followed Naomi to Naomi's home country before she (Ruth) was given opportunities to get to know Boaz before they married. The Israelites walked to the Red Sea and just kept walking into it as G-d worked to part the waters. Likewise, those carrying the Ark of the Covenant walked into the river (Jordan River?) as G-d stopped up the river and allowed His people to cross over into Canaan. Esther went to the king, without a summoning by him, in a step of faith to protect her people from Haman, when she knew good and well that she could be walking to her death. How many countless other miracles requires some sort of step of faith?!? I could go on for days!!! Of course, there are always exceptions and situations where this is not seen, but it seems to be a pattern that some sort of faith needs to be shown so that faith can be stretched and grown!



I believe that me being here is a miracle. There are too many instances in my story where I could have died at the hands of others, or by circumstances I inflicted upon myself. L-rd knows I tried hard enough, several times, to simply be rid of the world. I could be stuck in anger and denial at what has happened to me, but G-d has shown me grace beyond measures and more love than ever imaginable. Because of this, He has allowed my story to continue on towards healing, instead of Hm allowing me to be stuck in the trauma. He brought me from dumping, to sharing and walking with others. That certainly does not happen for everyone. I want to continue to see the miracles He works in my life and I cannot wait to see all that He redeems in my story, so I will continue to walk in faith. Right now, this means potentially beginning a bible study and organizing women to come and walk alongside each other. I see miracles every day, and my faith grows with each of these instances.

I am blessed beyond measure.



With much love, continue on towards your miracles my friends,
BA

I Want to Learn to Not Dread

A couple of weeks ago, I went into work 2 hours early to cover for a friend that needed to leave early. While there, there wasn't much going on, so I got to spend some time with some of the day shift labor nurses and one of our doctors. The subject of marriage came up because one of our little day shifters had just gotten set up (that day!) with an IT guy at the hospital because he came up to fix a computer on our unit. We got to talking about how it would be "okay" for this girl to marry the guy by November (her dream wedding month and a mere 7-8 months in the future) because she would have the rest of her life to get to know him. She was concerned with not knowing him well enough before marrying him. I was helping the rest of the pack encourage her in this matter, and I mentioned that she would be "stuck with him" the rest of her life so it would be fine! The doctor, who just so happens to be the one I have the most contention with on the unit, then point blank asked if I was married. I responded that I am not, and he told me that that is the problem with our culture today, we don't see it as getting to be with a particular person. Instead, we see it as being stuck with a person.

Of course, I use words that I don't mean. Usually it is for comedic affect or to diminish the seriousness of the situation. That is was I was doing, but this guy already doesn't like me so he used it as a time to take a bit of a jab at me.

Honestly, I want to begin to not dread things so much. But, for as long as I can remember, I have learned to dread things so that I don't get my hopes up to merely be let down. It's a pattern I can pick out in most of my early memories and it has continued on into my adulthood. I feel like that's part of why I stuck it out with those stupid boys for so long, I was hoping that thing would get better, but I was mostly resigning myself to the fact that if I just stuck it out, I could survive. I didn't get my hopes up about grad school very much, and wasn't as hurt as I could have been when I got rejected. But maybe that kept me from fighting the way I could have for a spot in the program. Who knows?

After exboyfriend, I gave up my hopes that I would have a solid, healthy relationship. I stopped hoping for a good, let alone great, marriage. And I resigned myself to a life alone. After exfiance, I was sure that my life was meant to be carried out alone. Once I started having hope again, along came frickin ex-best friend to break all of my boundaries and I was set back several milestones, again.

With each of these traumatic instances and their fallout, I get farther and farther away from even being able to hope. Along with this, I begin to dread relationships more and more. Now, I not only avoiding hope, I am absolutely terrified of what a relationship would be like, how he will take the news of my story, how life would continue on, if the relationship would continue on. I freeze when I think of what marriage would be like. When I contemplate how my abuse will effect our marriage, our kids, our time together. I wonder if marriage will be unbearable and if I will simply be a thorn in his side because of how I've learned to handle things and the baggage I bring to the marriage. I downright tremble with legitimate fear when I think of what our marriage bed will hold. What horrors I will be pulled back to, the pain I will cause him as my story continues to mar this type of intimacy between us. I wonder if these painful experiences (for both of us) will be things that we will be able to work through, or if I will regress horribly again and it will end up with all of us damaged beyond belief.

To say that I am in a place of dreading relationships is a great understatement to my current season in life.

I desperately want to find excitement when I think of what a relationship would be like. I want to imagine joy and friendship and other good things when I think of marriage. And I wish I could look forward to what a honeymoon and marriage bed inevitably brings.

I wish I could figure out how to love my body better, my whole body and my whole self. Don't think I haven't tried for most of my life. It starts to get better, then goes through extreme rough patches regularly. Now, I have a ridiculously tall, thick, iron-clad wall around my heart. I can feel it. I see it. It's next to tangible. Plus, my mind won't let me associate anything good with sexuality. Not with flirting (which I recently figured out with major help from my sweet counselor), not with dressing cute to where a guy might think I'm cute, and not with kissing or thinking about anything further with a husband. Apparently it's called avoidance... if you want to get technical. For me, however, there's a literal block and unimaginable fear associated with such things. How am I supposed to love my whole self if there are parts of me that I would't touch with a 1000 mile pole? And if I can't love my whole self, how is anyone else supposed to?



One thing I allowed myself to not dread this month/week/year, though, is my birthday. I told a couple of friends at work and they planned a whole little birthday surprise for me. We had sundae's and a cake (even though I wasn't supposed to eat cake because of the Feast of Unleavened Bread). They sang to me, told patients about me, and made me feel special all week. Then, my mom drove from Home Town to College Town (an hour to an hour and a half each way) to personally deliver a bouquet of flowers to my floor. She spruced up a beautiful bouquet of mixed flowers with an extra dozen roses, for a very specific 2 dozen that she was very adamant about. I couldn't figure out why I needed so many roses, until I got a moment to think about it. She got me 2 dozen roses because I turned 24 this year!!! Duh! Thing is, she drove all that way, was super creative by adding roses, and dropped them off without calling me to the front desk because she wanted to surprise me. Then, silly lady, she left before I could give her a hug! She didn't wait or anything!!! I called her as soon as I got out of my patients room and was presented with them from our unit secretary, and I thanked her profusely as tears streamed down my face. I don't believe I've ever felt so special as I did for my birthday this year. I felt so loved at work, my family and extended family all texted me, and a dear friend from work got me a card and went out to dinner with me before work. I allowed my friends and family to celebrate with me and it was a wonderful experience! I feel, still, so cherished.

What that tells me is that I'm learning to slowly start to open up. You know this, I'm sure. I'm the one that is the slow one to realize it. I'm able to share parts of my story instead of avoiding it completely. I'm beginning to find friends and find enjoyment instead of fear when I am with them. And I'm sure, someday, maybe marriage could be something that G-d could use as a source of joy and grace and perhaps even a little enjoyment. I pray G-d heals me in this area. I pray that I am not always so fearful, so terrified of relationships. I hope that someday I can be a success story for the L-rd. But, for right now, I'm in another heavy season, and it'll be awhile before we know how this story ends.

I'll keep you guys in the loop ;)

With love,
BA

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?

Bible Studies

Bible studies are supposed to be feel-good experiences, right? Times in life where you can go, connect with believers in your church/congregations, and learn about G-d. Am I right in this? Or are these just thoughts coming from left field?

Maybe I'm just one of the few that have found bible studies that have caused me to question many things that have held fast as "truths" in my life. I've been a part of a couple of studies now, that have shaken me thoroughly. All for good, but it's been a rough ride, nonetheless.

I've wrestled with G-d. I've sobbed uncontrollably. I've begun to hope for a fresh start and a newness in my walk. Most of all, I've discovered that many of the "truths" I've learned throughout my life have been nothing more than deep seated lies that I, unfortunately, clung to because it was all I had.

Bible study #1: The Quest: An Excursion Toward Intimacy with God - by Beth Moore

Bible study #2: Anointed, Transformed, Redeemed: A Study of David - by Priscilla Shirer, Beth Moore, and Kay Arthur

Bible study #3: Surprised by the Healer: Embracing Hope for Your Broken Story - by Linda Dillow and Dr. Juli Slattery

First off, I'm still in the middle of bible study #2 and just started #3 last week (I got the book today). All I can say is oh. my. goodness.

Y'all, I read Surprised by the Healer all today! It's composed of 9 women's stories of sexual brokenness, of one type or another, and I could not read it fast enough. I plumb gobbled it up! It took me all of about 5.5 hours to complete, with bathroom and Facebook breaks (because these stories are all intense), and I completed it all in an evening. Granted, there is a bible study with questions that is at the end of the book, that I haven't started on, but I read all of the stories through.

The Quest had me wrestling, sobbing, yelling, angry, and fighting to come closer to G-d. He broke down walls, let me have my tantrums, but He didn't let me stay there in the anger. My ladies at bible study prayed for healing for me after the second or third week of me going to my counselor overwhelmed, and He started healing me in more tangible ways. The ladies didn't know what I needed healing from. They initially didn't know how He had healed me when I came back thanking them for praying. Last week, for the first time, I shared a bit more of my story with them and He extended even more healing to me through that. This bible study is the exact bible study I needed at this time in my life. It wouldn't have helped any earlier, and L-rd knows I needed to not wait any longer. It is the beginning of a season of true healing and grace for me, and it is still difficult, but the lines of communication are no longer muffled between the Good L-rd and I (muffled because of walls I put up, obviously He doesn't put up walls!)

Anointed, Transformed, Redeemed is a study I am still working through. G-d is allowing me to take a deeper look at the life of David, and the mistakes he made, while also seeing why he was called "a man after G-d's own heart". As mentioned in the study, "not all devastation begins with sin" (slight paraphrase because the "quote" was solely based on my limited memory). G-d brings us through pain and tribulation that is sometimes a result of sin, but sometimes it's simply a result of other people choosing evil and you just so happen to be the one that gets hurt. L-rd knows I've sinned a lot in my life, but sometimes, not every bad thing that happens to me is my fault. I didn't deserve the assaults, the rape, the abuse, the problems. I didn't ask for them and I certainly didn't make anyone hurt me the way that they did. Unfortunately, I was unable to make better choices to prevent these things from happening, but I was also not well equipped, and so I'm struggling to show myself grace for fighting with my limited defense choices.



Folks, these bible studies have allowed G-d to awaken a deep desire to know Him that has been hidden away for years. Surprised by the Healer mentions that pain can be a good thing. Pain can allow you to come to the end of yourself, to let you understand brokenness so that you can actually understand healing and love. Pain can knock you out of your rut, your routine "religious/Christian/perfect/faith-filled" life into a life of true faith, true intimacy with G-d, and true devotion. Only when you have experienced pain can you truly understand why it is that you need G-d and how He provides for you. Intimacy is something I so crave; from friends, relationships, family, G-d. I don't like the surface-level questions and answers. When I ask how you are, I want to know how you are. I want to know your struggles, your joys, your real-life miracles. I want to be able to see how G-d is working in your life, and how you have been able to overcome the unthinkable. I want to have in-depth discussions of what G-d is speaking to you about, what He is showing you in the Word, and how you are applying that to your life. I want to be able to walk beside you in life and be able to glean wisdom from your life, and you can maybe glean some wisdom from mine. I want the kind of intimacy where G-d comes and sits at the coffee table with us, and infuses our time with the highest of highs, because He is walking with us and letting us learn through our lows.

I'm so sick of talking about clothes, the weather, if I'm dating anyone right now, and how my family is.

I want to know people.

I want people to know me.

I just want to know that the struggles I've faced were not faced in vain and alone. I want to know that come kind of good can come from the pain I've experienced. I want to know that my story has either prevented someone else from experiencing the same things I have, or that my story is able to bring comfort and healing to someone who has already walked through something similar.

I want to know that this is not all for nothing. That something good can come from this mess.

I want to know that I will not die, keeping secrets buried with me, that could have helped someone. Anyone. Even if it's a single person, in the entirety of time, at least it was of benefit to them.

I need to know that there is something more to all of this suffering. And my story is not even close to being the worst I've read or heard from others!!!



How can I be used to help in healing others? I haven't experienced the worst of pains, but the pain I have is the worst I've survived. How am I supposed to be able to speak life into others? How can my life be used to bring any comfort or support to someone else? How can G-d use a little baby nurse to do His work?

I feel absolutely inadequate to do much of anything. I don't even know how to keep friends for any length of time because I push them away or I attracted the types of people that only hang out with me while I am beneficial to them. How is that supposed to be any help if relationships aren't my strong suit? Don't even get me started on dating or marriage!!!

I want G-d to use my story, my life. I just can't imagine how He'll do it.


And yet, I feel called to something bigger.

Low Pressure System = Raining Babies

I went to a hot springs resort for a few days with my mom and brother about 2 weeks ago. Everything at work was fine before work, but when I started back with labor and delivery... the unit broke. We had so many emergency situations, babies that were not at all tolerating labor, and excessive amounts of blood. Of the last 8 days, I worked 7 and most of those were spent with me stressing over the moms and babies around me. I don't know what happened!!!

We had a low pressure system/pretty bad snowstorm role in and had 6 deliveries in one night and 3 as soon as shift change was complete in the morning. An emergency c section nearly every night and sometimes 2. We had several OB hemorrhages and even bleeding moms come back into the hospital from being at home.

This was my week and I'm so glad it is starting to simmer down for the patients. Now we just have to deal with our staff being sick and recovering from this ridiculous flu that has taken over everybody.



Meanwhile, I've felt so much lighter in my person struggles with sexual assault and trauma, plus the bullshit exBest Friend pulled.

I texted him, because he had been on my heart for awhile, but that ended quickly. He started making jokes about "doing it again" and saying it was a "fun night". Utter betrayal. I guess I was hoping for understanding, for support, for anything of what I though he had been. I needed the guy that drove me to the police station and waited in the lobby for 5 hours. I needed the friend that fought so hard to make me feel better and helped me to study when freshman year of college was getting to be too much.

I don't understand how I held out for his friendship for so long. I've struggled for so long with the way that he's treated me, and others, and his philosophies of life. He was never abusive or mean, but he definitely expected others to take care of him, even though he's a grown ass adult. He's one of those people for other people having millions of dollars, and he wants to live the rich life, but he's not about to go work a different job where he can work up the ladder. Nor would he want to work anything more than his max of 8-4 or 9-5, but let's be real here, he gets out a few hours early every day because he's salary. Then he expected me to make time, out of working 2 night shift jobs with shifts of 12 hours (so essentially, he wanted me to sleep a mere 4 hours a day for 6-7 days of the week). Plus, I was supposed to pay for me and/or him, when we went out places.

Moral of the story, it's been rough because I miss what life used to be, but I must have been delusional about what kind of friendship we had. Think about it, he only hung out with me because he wanted to date me. It's impressive to keep that crap going for over 5 years, but it helped that the crush took a little while to develop in college, and in nursing school, I didn't see him much. Then he had a long term girlfriend. So, what was our friendship anyway?



Lately, between my support group, personal counseling, bible study, and various other places, it seems as though I need to share my story. I'm trying to be articulate about what has happened, but more than the trauma, I was to articulate what G-d has done to get me through. I feel like I've come further in my healing in the past couple of weeks, after weeks of hardcore, constant wrestling with G-d. The yelling at Him; crying, scratch that, sobbing so hard that I couldn't breathe; and otherwise wracking my brain and demanding He tell me why things happened to me the way that they did. Begging Him for peace and comfort and help. I'm still working on some stuff, and He's still showing me things and working on me too. It'll take the rest of my life, but for the first time since Country Boy died (in March 2014), I feel like I can breathe. I feel like I am now being challenged to know and be able to explain why I have the hope and faith in G-d that I do, despite what's happened.

"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.

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.

2 Year Anniversary

April 18 and 19 was my 2nd year anniversary of my first sexual assaults. I worked. I thought these days would get easier, but also that it was be more difficult than they were. I know that this makes no sense unless you're in it. But for me, this is the only way to describe the past few days.

At work, we had a girl come into the ER in labor. She came in with abdominal pain. After routine tests, it was discovered that she was 1) pregnant and 2) in active labor. After being told this information, she confessed she was raped. According to her well known dates, the baby was calculated to be premature by about a month. So, ER nurses called us and called L&D because NICU would need to go to that delivery and would possibly be taking the infant back to our unit.

I don't know what happened with that baby or with the girl, but I was at that delivery. The baby was born at full term. There was also the father in the room. I'm not saying she was lying, but I'm not able to know what the full story is either. The girls on my unit were angry, saying that she lied because the father was there.

Guys, that could have been me. I knew the father. I likely would have sought out prenatal care and I definitely called my mom. Well, the ER nurse that did my SANE exam made me... but still. I told my mom about the assault the night after it happened. I drove up to Home Town and went with her to dinner where I couldn't hold it in any longer. I told her in an Olive Garden then wept in her car, in her arms for hours. After ex-fiance raped me over a dozen times, I took the Plan B pill. It is against my beliefs but I couldn't be stuck to the evil guy that would continually invade my physical boundaries and my body. Plus, I had taken one after ex-boyfriend assaulted me and I was examined by a SANE nurse.

I wouldn't have allowed them in the room, if I had needed to give birth. I don't know if I would have told them. I don't know if I would have kept the baby. I just don't know.

I pray for the girl's sake and the sake of the baby, that she was lying, so that she doesn't actually have to live through this trauma that I deal with every day and I can't even make an hour of not remembering something that happened to me in the year of 2015. I was abused and battered and raped and in terrible relationships with two separate guys for the entire year of 2015. I hope for her sake that she was fucking lying. If, not, my heart hurts for her. She has no idea the pain that is coming. However, if she lied, I am angry. I am angry that people see this "label" as an easy way out of consequences that may be bestowed upon them by parents that would be pissed that their child got pregnant at the age of 17 and didn't tell them (the parent) about it until the mom was so concerned about her daughter that they went to the ER at 1 a.m. 

Add in to this trying time of my year that the show "13 Reasons Why" is a very popular show and everyone seems to be talking about, discussing, and judging this poor girl and her decisions and her life. I know it's fictional, but it's not far off from my actual life story. I haven't watched the show, I won't. I know the premise of the show and I've read summaries of many of the episodes. It's not far off from how my story could have been.

Regardless of the year or which of my traumas is coming up on anniversary, somehow, my whole life and everything around me has a tendency to constantly remind of whatever it is I went through at this time a few years ago.

Great.

I have started looking for a counselor, don't worry. I'm fixin' to go back. I told my mom, which just ended up freaking her out, but I promised her it was just for a "catch-up". We'll see how it goes.

I went home to Home State a couple weeks ago. My first day back, I was car shopping with my mom when we got a call that her dad was in the hospital. Crap. Normally, it would be stressful enough having grandpa in the hospital for alleged "stroke-like symptoms". However, my mom's mom could be diagnosed with narcissistic personality disorder, as per the DSM-V. She could also be diagnosed with about 97 other personality disorders, and I'm only barely being dramatic. Anyway, she was the one "relaying" the information to my aunt and didn't want to tell my mom because my grandma hates my mom. Yes, she hates her own daughter. Well, after lots of family drama, sneaking into the hospital to visit grandpa when she wasn't there, and spending my whole vacation explaining the adult medical world to my family despite letting them know I "don't do big people". I left my "vacation" exhausted, worried, and frustrated that I spent all my time at a different hospital, taking care of my grandpa (whom I absolutely adore) while trying to dodge my grandma (not to be confused with Mema, whom I work with here in the NICU where I currently reside). I saw my uncles and cousins who don't know who I am because they haven't seen me in 15 years because they are mean and grandma actually likes them and hates me. Grandma then got my number and has begun calling me. *facepalm*

It turns out grandpa was taken to the hospital with stroke-like symptoms and we found cancer in his lungs, liver, and brain. The brain lesions are what was causing his confusion. He had been coughing for a few weeks and began taking Mucinex. He began experiencing R sided numbness and weakness. We thought it was a symptom tied with the confusion, but turns out that extended use of Mucinex can/will cause that. Seeing as he took 5 bottles of Mucinex over the course of a month, it is much more likely the weakness was caused by that.

He is now in the midst of his 10 back-to-back radiation treatments. Following those, he will receive several rounds of chemo and still not have a particularly long time to live because he has small-cell carcinoma. Even if he goes into remission, the cancer will likely come back and with a vengeance.

Despite all of these things, grandpa is so frickin' cute. Even when he was confused, he was happy, pleasant, polite, and worried about his children and grandchildren. Despite being married to a horrible woman who constantly yells at him and berates him, he chooses to be happy and he chooses to stay with her because, as a Catholic, he believes he is doing the right thing by G-d. I so admire this man for staying happy, despite all that has happened to him over the course of his life. He takes things in stride, does what he can for his children, and just tried to by honorable in the eyes of the Good L-rd. Plus, he's so stinkin' cute!!!. Just excited for pudding and to see all 5 of his children in a room for the first time in decades. He has tons of grandkids and several great-grandkids. He worked until last year when he retired at the age of 75 from a job where he was a grounds keeper for a local park system in Home State. He worked hard, outside, for decades. He used to keep 3 jobs at all times to care for his family (granted, grandma did nothing and stole all of his money... but that's beside the point). He's worked hard and suffered his whole life, but he finds joy in getting pudding and juice. I love this man. I am so blessed to have gotten to see him while I was there. I gladly traded my vacation to stay with him while I could.

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.

...And Closure

So I got the closure call today. He was really sweet and apologized for being insensitive and for wanting the relationship to move over my hurdles of: riding in a car with somebody, going to the movies, going over to his apartment (yes, with his roommates there), etc. These are things that most girls don't have such a difficult time with. I have understandable fears about these things, but it requires a guy to be extra patient with me, and I get that.

Well, he wanted me to come over to his place, he thought not riding in the same car was odd, but he complied without complaining to me, and he tried a couple times to go to the movies, but didn't push it too bad when I refused to. Sometime last week, he told me that he thinks that I just need to push past some of my fears of going over to a guys house, going to the movies, and riding with somebody. I got a little upset, but stayed true to my boundaries concerning those things because I went back on those things once and it turned out worse than the first tragedy. I can be made fun of all day long, but I think that it's about time that I start fighting for myself and what I know to be true and what I need to do/not do.

He had called saying he really missed me and wanted closure. I don't know if I gave that to him, but I stuck true to my desire to wait until I was at least a year past my anniversaries. I fought to get out of those shitty relationships of 2015, I am not done fighting for myself, and I will continue to advocate for what I need regardless of what others want. I am shocked that he ever apologized, I think it was really sweet and the things he did that gave me pause weren't on purpose. He's gone through some tough stuff too, so he was trying to help me "get over" my stuff the way he was able to work past his stuff. Thing is, 1) not everybody heals the same way, 2) my wounds are still fairly fresh, and 3) we went through different ordeals. In fact, they are very different. Still very real and very scarring, but we can agree that they are different.

So, on with my day I go, as a single lady in Small Town...

My Heart Breaks

I stumbled upon this blog, and it hits close to home. This young lady lost her husband in a car wreck that she was present during.

Her post about Job is something that I very much relate to. I did not lose a husband, but the thoughts of suffering, grief, pain, and the roller coaster that is present after trauma is very much in line with revelations that were made to me in the aftermath of my traumas. I remember reading Job after I broke up with exfiance. Of all the times I had read it before my two years of hellish life events, I never understood how Job could continue to love the L-rd, how he could be so grief stricken one moment, and yet defend the L-rd. Having lived through the shit I've somehow survived, it somehow makes a little bit more sense now. I've been to the place where I was in so much pain I was praying the L-rd just end my suffering. Let's be real, I still have a few days like that here and there. I have been to the point of not caring, of being so broken and hopeless that I was sure life couldn't get worse, and then it did. Yet, I believe the L-rd brought me through. I have no idea why. Why this was my lot in life and why certain people experience things while others don't.

However, I have met so many people that simply don't understand how to be empathetic. They sing worship songs about suffering, sadness, loneliness, and pain, but it means something different to them than it does to me. I know this because of how they talk about the songs and also because I used to be there. The songs about suffering and loss used to remind me of wanting a boyfriend, losing belongings, or otherwise being sad that I was not handed all of my wants and desires on a silver platter. Now, having been through the events that put me here today, these songs remind me of the horrors I have endured and how I am still standing. Songs of salvation, forgiveness, love, and redemption bring me still that sting of intense pain (and typically a lot of tears), but also a sweeter peace than I knew before. I know the L-rd in ways I never thought imaginable and through it all, I feel like I know who I am just a little bit better. I praise the L-rd that many people do not understand this shift I am talking of, and I don't hold it against anyone because I don't want anyone to have to suffer in order to understand what I feel. But I am so very glad that despite the evils done to me, there is some hope and some type of silver lining to the brokenness and struggle of my life.



Please visit Ms. Murri's blog here and her other one here (though it only has a couple of posts). She's a great writer and doesn't ramble on like some people we know *cough, cough, wink, wink (me...)*

Pure Rage

Let's start this post out nicely... I don't want any comments. I love you all, but no comments on this post. Mostly, I probably shouldn't be posting this but 1) I need to vent, 2) I'm trying to be straight with y'all about the struggles of life in case somebody out there in the virtual space of the world feels the same way, I don't want them thinking they are alone, and 3) there is too much rage, moving through my mind too quickly, for me to be able to hand-write the shit I'm feeling in a paper journal so that I can burn it later. Thus, my online outlet which you can choose to read, or not. Completely your choice. THERE WILL BE LOTS OF CURSE WORDS USED THROUGHOUT!!! Are they necessary? Not usually, but every once in awhile it is absolutely required. Right now, just know that this post will be long, and it could be about half the length if I didn't use so much profanity.

*****PROCEED WITH CAUTION*****ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK*****

No. I should be screaming these things from entirety of my being, into a canyon somewhere, where nobody can hear me, where I later collapse into a ball of a shell of a girl who's merely trying to hang on in a world where she doesn't belong living a life she does not understand at all.

Let's also preface this by saying that for the past several days, I'm in one of my moods. Yes, I have several moods that rotate throughout my days. None of them are really actually good. Some have "good" moments, I suppose, but I cannot find the good in my life. Present mood: contemplating the purpose of existence and how my life fits in with the plan of creation. I've been feeling dissociated and in a haze for the last week and a half also. I felt that necessary to point out as well.

Another nursing school buddy got married, I think today. Which, btw, is an odd day to have a legit wedding, seeing as it's Monday. But I digress and continue on with my ridiculously long post about things I've said in the past but am still mulling over in my obviously not healed mind...

Another girl got married. Now, I am happy for her, I truly am. She was a great girl, she's super smart, and she's been with this guy for a long time. She wasn't pressuring him to get married or engaged, and she seems relatively grounded.

I'm upset at the death of my future. I'm upset that my dreams of a future, and what I wanted for dating and marriage didn't even have a fucking shot at happening because two assholes decided that my wishes are not worth honoring. I'm fucking pissed that I didn't get a say. I'm enraged that nobody is fighting for me and that nothing will come of the pain I've been forced to survive. Can G-d handle it? Absolutely. Is He not the one who is in charge of revenge and setting wrongs right? He absolutely is! That's not what I'm saying. I don't even know what I'm saying any more but I know I'm upset.

The hand of tragedy and trauma is dealt randomly, I think. I don't know, maybe it's not. Maybe we are predestined to be forced to live through shitty circumstances that make us want to die on a daily basis, but somehow we're supposed to see how long we last before saying that we've had enough and throwing in the towel. Maybe, somehow, we're paying for the sins we've committed, or the sins that some person in our family tree committed a hundred years in the past. Maybe our suffering is somehow part of some atonement process that doesn't actually atone for anything because our suffering can pay for no sin or mistakes, but we still have to go through that. I DON'T FUCKING KNOW! I do know, however, that even though I sin, I don't know what mistakes justify a person having to live through fucking trauma, rape, incest, domestic abuse, emotional abuse, gas lighting, constant ragging, the death of innocent people who have done nothing wrong, or any other trauma. Most trauma makes no fucking sense. Most of it has no noticeable purpose, no rhyme, no reason, nothing! Nothing! NOTHING!

Why, then, are we still having to live through such things. More importantly, why do some people go through life without ever experiencing trauma, or major life troubles, while others get clobbered around every FUCKING CORNER???!!!!!??? I'm not saying I'm necessarily one of them, but 3 people resulting in more traumas than I can count in a year and a half is a little fucking excessive to me.

I don't know, maybe that's just me. Eventually, I'll get over it. Except not. No. This shit never goes away until the day my heart stops and I get to be done. Perhaps then I will be free from these hellish memories and the pains that stab me in the chest. Hopefully, someday, I will be cut loose of the chains that bring me back to my pits of despair when I think of the beautiful wedding night I wanted, the dreams of being STD/STI free with no doubts in my mind about my status in that area, and I will put to rest my living nightmares that play over and over in my head, constantly. Did I have a choice of having a beautiful wedding night? No. Can I know for certain right now that I am presently STD/STI free? I have no fucking clue and I get panic attacks daily thinking that I may have one and not knowing. Yes, I can go get tested, but I'm still just not ready to drag myself to my death sentence just yet. Will I ever be free from these nightmare memories that run on loops in my brain? Not until the day I die or the day somebody develops an amnesia treatment that only lets you erase certain memories. Honestly, I'm not holding my breath for that treatment, but the end of my days is rapidly approaching, I'm sure.

You know what's hilarious to me, though? (Now, keep with me because that was solid fucking sarcasm). I have watched over 5 stand-up comedians over the past couple of hours that are on Netflix and all of them make jokes about rape and molestation within the first 5-10 minutes. 

Back to being serious, there is absolutely nothing funny about rape, molestation, incest, sexual assault, domestic abuse, beating your wife/husband/girlfriend/boyfriend/child/parent/etc. There is nothing funny about abuse, at all! There's nothing funny about PTSD, war, slavery, or any other things like that. What bugs me the most, is that people who have never fucking lived in my damn shoes is going to make jokes about my life being ruined because the act that cause my life to be ruined is apparently funny to them. It's hilarious to them! The whole crown erupts with laughter when these people make these jokes! It makes my blood boil, it sends me into immediate flashbacks every time, and then I look at how our society deals with such troubling topics and the lack of sentencing and punishments make sense. My life makes less and less sense, but it makes sense that the fucking statistics grows for the events of rape that occur each day because it's all just a joke. 

My suffering is a joke. It's something I have to keep hush hush, because it bums people out. Nobody wants to hear my woes. I'm just regretful of allowing the guys to enter my body, because I let them do it. I must have wanted them to do it. My response to that: NOBODY WANT TO BE FUCKING RAPED!!! NOBODY WANTS THEIR LIFE TO BE RUINED AT THE HANDS OF SOME ASSHOLE WITH A FUCKING PENIS BECAUSE THEY FEEL THEY HAVE A RIGHT TO ENTER MY BODY. NOBODY WANTS CONSTANT WORRIES ABOUT THEIR STD/STI STATUS WHEN THEY HAD WANTED TO REMAIN VIRGIN, OR EVEN IF THEY WERE WILLING TO HAVE SEX AT SOME POINT, THE ONE TIME THAT THEY SAY NO AND THE GUY DOES NOT RESPECT THAT, THERE IS TRAUMA. SOMETHING, IN THAT PICTURE, IS NOT RIGHT.

What's so hard to understand about that? Apparently, it about as difficult as rocket science to understand... for many people who have never experienced rape, sexual assault, abuse, or any of the other many listed things already mentioned, or one of the hundreds of things I never even mentioned because there is too much!!! There's too much.

What has rape cost me? It's cost me: friends, family, sanity, sleep, good dreams, peace, any hope of love, joy, gladness in my adult life, excitement for post-graduation happenings, hope of having children, and my future, among other things.

I'm angry that some people live such beautiful, wonderful, sweet, amazing lives while I'm stuck in this. I'm overwhelmed at the constant waves of shit washing over me. I hate that just when I start to feel like I'm doing better, I get bombarded again with my hellish reality. I hate that I don't feel worthy of a happy life, and I feel guilty even, for what has happened, even though I can rationalize the events as me not being at fault for the actions that took place.

While most girls my age are dreaming of their futures, I'm sitting here wondering what I have done to deserve such shit. I wonder why it is that I'm here, what purpose my life plays in the Grand Scheme of things. Mostly, I'm left feeling overwhelmed at the magnitude of evil rising up around me on every side. I am suffocated by the fears of what a health check would bring. My past haunts me and chases my happiness away. The simple joys of life are completely lost on me, and I'm simply treading water in the middle of the biggest, stormiest ocean in the universe. I find myself praying that 1) I am free of disease and health complications and 2) that my life ends soon and that somehow, somebody remembers me with fondness.

I've been thinking about all the people I've lost in my life. They didn't die, most of them haven't, but they've left me or I've left them for various reasons. If my former friends heard I died, or came across my obituary, would they say I got what I had coming? Would they be glad I was gone because they didn't like me? Would they be sad at how things ended? Would they mourn the loss or get over it quickly by saying "Oh, that's sad. Was it suicide?" Would they come to a funeral, if there was one, or would they visit my grave and visit/yell at me the way I do with Country Boy? Would they remember me for being sweet, kind, and dreaming of a bright future? Or will they recall my bipolar, my grouchiness, and the way in which I made them upset by enforcing boundaries and refusing to take their shit. Would they ask how I died, prying for if my death were self-inflicted? Or would they hope that suddenly, my troubles were gone and I no longer lived with the shame and pain and scars this life has given to me. What would my obituary say? Who would even read it? How could my family even invite anyone to my funeral? Nobody would come except family, and then friends supporting my family. I would have no friends there because there is nobody left.

Does my life even make a difference? For anyone? (All rhetorical questions, you don't need to comment.)?




So what is the point of my sufferings? What is the point of anyone's sufferings? I know I'm not the only in pain over the hand this life has dealt. Of the numerous times I was supposed to die over the course of my life, from the time I was conceived until now, why was I not allowed to just fucking die??? I could have died free of pain. I could have died pure. I could have died and not even experienced the fight of life. Instead, I was kept alive. I keep having to be kept alive. I keep having to fight another day and suffer through.

I know the Good L-rd provides. He provides for my needs, my happiness, my joy, and everything good in this universe and beyond. He gives every good things. I know He gets me through the trauma, He gets me through the night, and He keeps me alive for another day. What I don't know, and what I don't understand, is why the hell I cannot just go ahead and cease breathing so I can be put out of my misery? Why can my heart not just take a permanent break and allow me to slip away? What is the purpose of allowing me to continue to suffer with the after-math of the consequences of sin. Not even just my sin! I'm suffering from the consequences of other people's sins too!!! Shit like this happens every day. Not so good people suffer no issues, while others suffer for personal sins as well as for the sins of the not so good people.



I keep feeling compelled to start working on forgiveness so I can try to move on. I think it's from the L-rd. I want to be ready to do that. I want to be ready to shoulder the pain and move on, but right now, the baggage is too heavy to be able to move away from anger and head towards full forgiveness. I don't know what I'm supposed to do.

I deal with being scared of what problems I have with health and my mental well-being on a daily basis. I fear the future because I see little chance of my story ending well any time soon. I know I'm not supposed to worry about the future, because what will I change by worrying about the future? Nothing. However, a happy, good future will take a billion and five miracles and I feel that's just too excessive for one person to be given in a lifetime. It doesn't matter what I feel I deserve or don't, it's ultimately up to G-d. I have no say. I'm just saying that statistically, the odds are not in my favor and I long for release from my pains and struggles bestowed upon me in this life.

I'm tired. I'm going to bed.