Just a Girl and a Plan

I’m working on something I think is the hardest undertaking I have tried. This includes admitting to people I attempted suicide, was raped which resulted in a pregnancy that lead to a miscarriage, was sexually assaulted, abused, and have mental illnesses. Harder than trying to determine the start of anything I write.

I’m starting a journey. Queue music.

Just a small town girl, livin’ in a lonely world.  …  Streetlight people, looking just to find emotion… Don’t stop believing hold on to…

I am on a journey already. I’m working on myself, on self acceptance. This is different than self esteem, which is like being your own cheerleader, using accolades and achievements to build yourself up. In layman terms, self-esteem is  giving yourself high-fives. (Seriously, you might dislocate that shoulder of yours if you keep patting yourself on the back so much buddy. I’m sure though if one little thing went wrong, that esteem will plummet and you’d feel shattered, and need to start all over again.)

dariajanecheer

Self acceptance is different. It’s about accepting yourself. You don’t pat yourself on the back or try to high-five yourself. (After all, that looks silly and you might hit yourself in the face.) Instead, self-acceptance is looking at yourself, everything about you, and learning to accept it, live with it, embrace it. Or something like that anyways. You learn your strengths and weaknesses and you’re okay with them. Think of the dictionary definitions — willingness to tolerate, action of consenting, action or process of being received as acceptable — and apply that oneself. That’s what I’m trying to do.

That’s what I’m trying to do.

There’s so much about me that I need to accept. A fraking laundry list of issues to deal with, to accept. (Oh BSG how I miss you.)

This isn’t to say I haven’t started to accept myself, or that I’m just beginning. It’s a journey that has been ongoing for a while actually, but I’m only just realizing that this is what I have been doing.

So, that laundry list. Would you like to see some of it?

Depression and anxiety, PTSD, Fibromyalgia, being raped, assaulted and sexually assaulted, abuse, relationships failing one after the other, suicide attempt, self harming, miscarriage of my rapist’s baby, being cut off from family, losing friends, that time I was homeless for a bit, a lifetime of being bullied, at times having issues with alcohol…

This isn’t the full. I mean, let’s be real here, dealing with all of that, I’ve never had self-esteem, never been my own cheerleader. So, how can I actually accept myself or start to?

By realizing that while the past has changed me, I cannot change the past. It’s as simple as that. Some pretty shitastical things have happened to me and there are only two choices presented.

First option:  play the victim and let these things dictate my entire life, keeping trapped as the victim.

Second option: realize and accept that these things have happened, put on my big girl panties, and keep on moving.

I have chosen. I’ve chosen to accept accept and keep moving. I’m accepting, well learning to accept myself. This includes the past events and the things I vastly dislike about myself. They are what create me, this beautifully ugly, quirky, scarred, person that is writing this.

accept

I am getting semi okay with this acceptance thing. Take for example my self esteem level. It’s never been high, okay, it’s closer to non existent than anything else. I’m not okay that it causes me to shy away from a lot of things, including trying to expand my circle of acquaintances, but I’ve accepted that I am like this. So this mean though that I just shrug my shoulders at it, let it be, and keep doing what I always do, right?

Wrong. Catastrophically wrong.

This is where the hard work part starts for me. See, I’ve learned that with self acceptance, there is more than just stating to yourself “That’s just how I am” or “That’s just life”. Some work is involved. Ugh, yes one of the worst four letter words to ever be used. Work. You need to accept the reality, the reality of the situation or aspect that you are accepting.

So, I have accepted that I have almost nil self esteem. I’m just going to ignore this now, okay? Guess again, I need to now look at it. Why is my self esteem in such a state? Bully for almost my entire life, especially when I was younger caused this. Most importantly the constant put downs from a sibling hurt my self esteem the most, making me feel worthless. Great, so now I’m just not going to talk to anyone to avoid any further damage. Not quite. I’ve now realized where this came from, which is improvement, however I now have a fork in the road. I can shrug it off, pretend that it doesn’t exist, and stay as I am, complacent, OR I can give the bullies the middle finger, and see if there are any changes I can make.

fork

Honestly, I haven’t quite made a move at the fork. This is the start of journey, and as much as I love showing people my amazingly crooked knuckle middle fingers (I have broken my fingers just a few times, or 10), I don’t know how yet. Am I going to just sit there, or will I try to make changes? Can I change how I feel regarding my self esteem or the way I think people perceive me?

This is really where my journey is beginning. I’m just past the dizzying circle of the Yellow Brick Road winding through town, and I’m now outside, heading towards the Emerald City, with a long way to go.

What will I discover and accept? What further choices will I make?

 

I Am Tired

tears

I’m not a stranger to suicide. Yes I think about it from time to time, and yes, I’ve attempted it before. People have told me how suicide is selfish, it’s not the answer, there are better ways to handle things, but have they ever wondered why I’ve felt it was the only way out, my only option?

Because I couldn’t be strong anymore. I was tired. Emotionally, mentally, and physically tired.

I was forced to be strong, I didn’t acquire this because I wanted to. I was forced to by other people’s actions. When I was raped and too afraid, too embarrassed to tell anyone what happened. When my rape resulted in pregnancy and then later a miscarriage. Or the former boyfriend that was abusive. What about having family stop speaking to me. Or even the most recent assault that happened last week.

I had no one to rely on. No one to lean onto for support. My support came from me. If I didn’t stay up, didn’t keep moving, there was no one behind me to assist me. I had to do this on my own. Had to be my own backup support system, my own cheerleader, and was fucking tiring.

My mind was a dark place. Full of self doubt, criticism, victimization. If I wasn’t thinking it, I had heard it from others, and it was on replay in my head. It wouldn’t leave. The nightmares were constant as I kept replaying everything that happened to me. I’d hear others talk about people in my same situation, blaming them for what happened, reemphasizing that it was my fault, I caused it to happen. cv

I could no longer control how I felt or thought. I would cut, hit, scratch, or burn myself just to control how I felt and when I felt. I would scream as long and loud as I could into pillows or in the woods trying to get the empty out of me, releasing the blackness.

hopeless wind

Not having anyone, made it so much easier to decide what to do. No one would miss me. No one even noticed all of the changes in me. Withdrawn and quiet. Not interested in anything. Drinking a lot. Sleeping if I wasn’t working. Increasingly was doing things more and more dangerously, recklessly. It wasn’t noticed. So it was so easy to slip away at a party, take those pills and alcohol, and wish for sweet oblivion.

It was an escape from the never ending hopelessness that I was going through. It was a way to finally take a break from being strong. It allowed the mind to become quiet.

Funny thing is, I can look back on what it was like then, and see myself in the same situation now. I can easily turn those verbs from a past tense into a present one, and have how I am today. I’m going through the same situations, and again, have only myself for strength and support here. Who is here to turn to but myself.

I’m tired of being strong. I’ve been strong too long.

 

Speechless

**Rape/Assault Triggers Possible**

WeHeartIt - Broken Angel

WeHeartIt – Broken Angel

I’m in a state of shock. It doesn’t happen often, it’s rare. I’ve been through a lot, rape, abuse, miscarriage, having family turn away from me, having “friends” turn against me, so for me to be in shock over something is hard, but that’s where I am.

Would you like to know why?

This past weekend, I was assaulted. I don’t know how else to state it, except I was assaulted.

It’s probably partially  my fault. I invited this person over, allowed them into my home. I trusted this person. So there must be fault with me for this. Loneliness and feelings of abandonment can do wonders to a person. They let you invite demons and the devil into your life.

So the weekend before I destroyed me knee, which I’m still waiting to find out what’s wrong. Needless to say, it’s swollen to twice the size and the skin color is not right whilst I’m in more pain than usual, you know, that fibromyalgia thing I deal with as well. So I’m to stay off of it as much as possible. I’ve tried inviting people over, but I get turned down all of the time. Seems everyone wants you to go to them, or they’re just too busy. The people I talk to the most, don’t live anywhere close to me. So I’m on my own. I’m cooped up in my house or at work and see either coworkers or my pets. Depressing and lonely.

So this person who I hadn’t talked to in a while found out and offered to come visit. I said okay, because let’s face it, at this point anyone is better than no one. I’m talking to myself and sleeping nonstop if I’m not at work. I need human contact. So I said fine.

Do I need to go further? This were fine until he started to choke me and slap me, calling me a dirty slut and whore. I told him to stop, but he didn’t. I shut down. I didn’t know what else to do. I had to. I cannot go back to where I was before. I refuse to be that person again, but what else can I do? I just wanted him gone.

I tried to not think about it and keep going afterwards, but that night my collarbone was hurting a lot. My voice was hoarse, but I was already losing it, from screaming at a soccer match, so it wasn’t really noticeable. The bruises are covered easily by not wearing scooped neck shirts or tanks. Now how am I to deal with the PTSD that will resurface? How can I tell the guy that I currently like and want to know better, hey, guess what, I had sex with another guy, but a little bit into, he started abusing me. Sorry? Kinda fucked up isn’t it?

People are urging me to go to the police, but here’s the thing. I’m scared shitless, he said she said. I consented. I want to do the same I did for when I was raped, and forget this happened. I know I need to talk to someone, but guess what, I have no one here. The few I talk to, they wouldn’t want to most likely, or they would continue to ignore unless I’m there with them. Even then, they probably wouldn’t care. Being the only one you can rely on is never the best of situations, but it’s all I have to go on right now.

So I’m going to have to cry this out now, and then put on my tough exterior again. I need to keep going. Guess I learned my lesson though.

If I was to die tomorrow, would anyone notice? Would anyone care? Most likely they wouldn’t. I’ve learned that people who I had believed I meant something to, could not care any less than they already do about me, and probably would not try to care more.

Apparently it’s believed I am nothing more than an old, computer obsessed, comic referencing shirt wearer, cat lady, and am very boring. Apparently for some, drinking is the only way to be around me to have a good time. What about the person that says I’m their best “female” friend, and yet, as soon as someone who has an issue with me comes along, I’m dropped faster than you can say “Bye Felicia” being told that it’s probably best to not be around. I can tell that this friend cares deeply for me. I’ve noticed with a lot of people also, that I have to initiate any conversations. It’s tiring always having to be a person that reaches out, and never have anyone check in on you. It’s good to know that you are on people’s minds.

My pets, the ones that annoy people, and they believe that they’re all I talk about, are probably the only reason I have not attempted suicide a second time. They give me love, they make feel like someone cares about me, as no one else does. Each as come into my life when I’ve needed love the most, when I’ve felt the most unloved, they came into my life.

Lately, it’s impossible to not want to start harming, to not think of suicide again. I’m alone. I really am. I invite people over, I’m rejected. I get into relationships, that self destruct, they check out or talk behind my back about me. I have people that say they’re friends that drop me the moment they think someone better comes along, however they think I’ll still be there for them later. Well, I’m tired of always being put in the fucking corner by everyone. I am tired of being fucking ignored and wasting my time with people.

Maybe I just need to start saying Bye Felicia to myself.

RELATIONSHIPS ARE HARD – LINDSAY HOLMES

I haven’t had the best of luck with relationships, but each one has taught me a little more about myself. As I’m still working out the demons that are inside of me through writing, this “letter” to the abusive and controlling jerk flowed from me. Hasty has been kind enough to add this to her #BeReal series.

HASTYWORDS

My RELATIONSHIPS ARE HARD guest today is Lindsay Holmes.

Lindsay has written for the #BeReal series previously. If you have a relationships story you would like to submit you can find the guidelines here under RELATIONSHIPS ARE HARD.  You will find the five other topics I am always interested in sharing.   I hope to see you in my email soon.

lindseyDamaged. 

I never held back from telling you my darkest secrets. I stripped down, laying my soul bare to you. I shared the ugly and bad, as well as the good with you. I let you know that the times ahead were not all going to be good, that I was still in the process of trying to find and piece myself back together again.

I wasn’t asking for much back, except for you to accept all that I was.

You accepted this most willingly, no questions asked. You were there…

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12 Years Later: An Open Letter to My Rapist

 

Mr Ironic for Sexual Assault Awareness Month
The Jerk That Destroyed Me
The Guy That Raped Me
My Rapist


To The Guy That Changed My Life,

Twelve years ago today, you possessed me, took me, and started an invasion that went into my  mind as well. Do you even remember me? Do you remember what you did to me

You took advantage of me. You drugged me and didn’t take no for an answer. There was no consent given, but that didn’t stop you. You raped me.

It was a week before my 21st birthday, and you destroyed the girl that I was then. Shattered her beyond repair.

Do you know that you were almost a father again? That’s right, you left a “gift” behind,  a constant reminder of what you had done. I found out on Mother’s Day. Ironic isn’t it? Ruined that holiday for me as all I had wanted was a family of my own, yet the only family I was going to have was the child of the guy that raped  me. It’s okay though, apparently fate took control as I had a miscarriage right after I had decided I had wanted to keep the baby. It was not that child’s fault.

I would scream and cry, wasting tears on you, while I was in the shower or had music up so loud so no one would hear. I felt dirty, used, worthless. I hurt beyond words and had no control. I shut down, becoming an emotional zombie, allowing no emotions to be felt.

When I wanted to feel something, on my own terms, I would cut, punch, scratch, or burn myself. If it hurt me, then I would do it. I had control that way.

I bet you didn’t know that I had made a New Year’s Resolution at the end of that year? I tried to commit suicide. TRIED. I was rather unsuccessful, obviously as I’m here writing this to you. I didn’t want to be in the darkness I had fallen so far into. I wanted the hold you had on me gone. The anger and hate, sadness and hopelessness, I wanted it all gone. I needed the memories and images gone, the flashbacks that wouldn’t end to disappear.

 

I never told anyone what happened to me. I was embarrassed that you had this control on me. I didn’t want to admit that I needed rescuing to anyone. I didn’t like that I was now a victim, helpless. I thought I was better than that. I could not bring myself to say “Save me, I need help.”

I did it though, despite you. I saved myself. I became a survivor, a fighter. I grew stronger and took control. I fought for my survival. I had to, as my only other choice was taken away from me, suicide. I sought help at the rape center. I learned that the only hold you had on me was the one I created in my mind.

I broke it.

I tore you away as if you were nothing, because that’s what you are. You are not worth a single thought. You don’t have control of me. You mean nothing to me.

How does it feel to have the tables turned? You treated me as if I was nothing, and now you are nothing.

You know, if it wasn’t for you, I would not be the person that I am today. I wouldn’t be strong. I would not be the fighter that I am, nor would I be able to love and accept myself, in turn letting myself love others. I now believe in myself. I kick ass now.

For that, I thank you, but I still hate and despise you, like the worthless fuck you are,
Your Former Victim
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Just a little bit

The Matticus Kingdom

Interrupting my regularly (pre)scheduled posting to bring you some art…

and a request…

because nothing is ever truly free…

and I have a friend in need.

Like what you are seeing?  Everything featured here is by the talented Lindsay of The Mad Tea Party in My Head.  She is currently looking to sell some of her art, and would love to do some commissioned work too.  Interested?  Pop over to her site, leave her a note and she’ll quickly get back to you.

Thank you!

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