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Soup, Bread and a Cop… May 24, 2018

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My high school teacher told me that I would either be a writer or a teacher. I wanted no part in either of those options. These many years later, it turns out that I happen to love writing and teaching. Until today I’m not sure I understood how much I missed writing.

As you may know I’m battling with some issues. Some may even refer to them as serious issues. I have been searching for the right analogy to explain how I got to this point and I think I might have figured it out.

When I first started learning to use the computer, my teacher taught us GIGO – Garbage In Garbage Out. And that’s exactly what’s been happening. I’ve been piling in more bad stuff in my life than the good stuff. Worry, begging, low self worth, low self esteem, distrust, lack of faith, hopelessness, anger, hurt, and the list goes on; I could only put out what went in and so the cycle continued.

And the cycle got worse. The more I did, the more I heard, the more I encountered, the worse things got; until one day I tore a little and some of everything rolled together seeped out. Consciously I didn’t know how to stop the leak. I cried, begged God, cursed God, lashed out, pushed people away but it didn’t work and there were no answers.

I decided to give up, but my subconscious decided to reach out. I had no desire to write in my journals but I was reminded that many years ago I used to blog. It must have been meant to be because I remembered the password and was able to easily access everything AND they even have an app. In addition to that I reached out to my professor and begged for prayer and patience. I told him I was struggling and that I couldn’t concentrate and I was planning to end it all. I think I just wanted him to understand that at the moment I hadn’t completely given up on school but conversely I didn’t have the motivation to continue because my insides were dying and I didn’t think I’d be here to finish. Finally, I reached out to my cousin. The first time I met him almost 17 years ago, he and I connected. He’s been my big brother, my friend, my confidante. He’s patient and I love that he says to me, “I may not be able to help you with that but let’s try this.”

It turns out that reaching out was the right course of action, even if I didn’t understand that’s what I was doing. In my head, I was trying to say good bye, give my apologies, and explain my rational for my decision. I didn’t want anyone to feel guilty or hurt, I wanted to tell the true story (at least part of it) and everyone had to know that I had made a logical decision.

My professor responded to my message. Told me he was there if I needed anything, that he would pray and begged me to talk to him if I needed or call a hotline or talk to my counselor. To talk to someone. And then he reached out to my college counselor. It went so far that, yesterday as I sat in the a Kennedy Center with my students, I received a call from an unknown number. When I returned the call, a cop was checking on me to make sure that I was ok. To make sure that I had support. To make sure I hadn’t hurt myself yet and that I wasn’t planning on it at the moment. The whole situation truly floored me.

As I was walking back to the bus my brain said, “these people don’t want me to die”. Of course, the left over madness from the last five years whispered, “it’s their job, you don’t matter”. For once though I didn’t listen.

As the bus drove back to school,  I spent those 45 minutes contemplating what would happen if I didn’t die. I don’t have an answer.  But it frightens me to think that the future might be like the past five years. It frightens me to know that I’m facing such a drastic change that even the present is a surprise. But I also know now that if I reach out people will answer.  It shouldn’t be dramatic like Sunday.

I spent the afternoon with my cousin,  exploring something new. It was amazing to discover such a treasure in my back yard and share it with someone who didn’t try to solve my problems,  tell me to take meds or that I just needed to forget everything.  Instead,  he made me take a break, be in the present and enjoy the moment as we shared a meal of soup and bread.



Is one of the stages of grief, revenge? May 22, 2018

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Two days ago I declared that I would be another statistic.  I knew for sure that soon, my battle with life would be over.  I knew that I would finally win.  But I started reflecting on my friend who died and the responsibility I willingly took on. My mommy reminded me of all the places I haven’t visited yet.  And my friends and family reminded me of all the people I didn’t reach out to and I didn’t get to know better. All the friends I didn’t make.  All the new people I’ve met and would like to get to know better. All of things I neglected while trying to stay in a “relationship” with a guy who never really wanted me and said so from the beginning.

I don’t know that I’ve changed my mind. I just know that it has made me pause and wonder, am I really ready? Am I totally over and done with life,  with everything, with the world? Or am I battling with an anger at myself and a grief that has been building for five years?

This guy is so sociable, so friendly,  so persuasive and two- faced that I fell for the part of him that I thought was real and honest. Which is crazy because the one thing I’m sure I learned in our time together was that I couldn’t trust him. He almost tainted my view of love until I realized what we were doing was not love and could never be love.

He’s so charismatic that he’ll tell everyone that I’m crazy, I’m mental,  I lived in my own world and made up stories. He’ll be very convincing and people will believe because they don’t know him like I do. But I have the pictures,  I have transcripts from conversations (Google Photos backs up everything) and I know how to retrieve deleted messages.  If I wanted to take revenge I would have it all at my finger tips.

This morning I woke up angry.  I thought I had deleted all the evidence.  I was angry because I kept thinking about how I’m still protecting him.  He’s a man and he’ll say he doesn’t need my protection. I want to tell the world ALL I’ve done,  air my very dirty laundry and maybe even ask for forgiveness but I keep thinking about him and his reputation.  I think about not destroying his family,  his business,  peoples’ idealistic views of him.

I keep thinking,  he’ll say she’s crazy,  she’s mental, she’s suffering fron some kind of psychosis. I know that because he’s said it to me in text and face to face and just like the emotionally and mentally abused person I became, I didn’t leave. In fact,  I broke up with him multiple times and in the same 10 seconds (window of time) turned around and told him I’m sorry, and I want him back and I didn’t mean to share my feelings, my views, my hurts.

Now there is a huge part of my heart that just wants revenge. The crazy part is that I want revenge that hurts him to his core but doesn’t affect his public image because I know how much he depends on it for his livelihood.  I want him to know how crazy he’s made me feel,  how much I did in the last five years that is against my nature, how I protected him and stayed loyal in spite of everything.

I’m lucky, he’s never given me a gift so I have nothing to trash or tear up. I’m not interested in keying his car or slashing his tires. I just want his heart to hurt, the way he hurt mine.

I won’t ask him to say he’s sorry or apologize,  he will say he never did anything wrong. Except I have evidence that I couldn’t have made up even if I wanted to…

I will say I’m sorry for the heartache I caused during our time “together”. Right now I’m not sure I mean it though.  And I’ll keep saying I’m sorry because I have to own up to my part in this mess.  I’ll say I’m sorry because I don’t live life with a plan for hurting others and one day my apology will be genuine.  I’ll say I’m sorry because in order to completely change my mind about my plan I have to one day forgive myself and learn to trust myself again.

I just wasted five years on a guy whose going to tell the world that I’m crazy and mental and I made everything up,  because he’s innocent and he never did anything.

My Suicide Note… May 21, 2018

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I am a statistic and I will become another statistic soon. I am divorced and one day I will commit suicide. People say I am clinically depressed and need to be on medication. If the medication will explain all the stuff that led to the depression and help me to stop thinking about it and reliving it, then I will gladly take the medication. I have even considered hypnosis, to help me forget.

Yes, this note includes the story of how a guy broke my heart and destroyed my essence but it also tells the story of how I was stupid and deluded enough to let it happen. There are very specific details I have to leave out to protect his identity but I will share the other stuff in hopes that this will stop someone else from doing what I did.

5 years ago I told God that I was going to try one more time. I was frustrated and I wanted to give up but I don’t really know how to do that and so I promised God I would try one more time. That day, I knew I looked like the world’s biggest slob but I decided to be brave and give it a try. I met a guy. I thought he was a great guy and I left feeling hopeful. I was sure something was wrong with me when I discovered how much I liked him, when talking to him made me smile, when I felt that “click” between us and knew for sure that we fit (whatever that meant). I didn’t think I was falling in love and I knew nothing would ever happen between us, because he is “HOT” and I am “NOT”.

People who knew him, commented to me and sometimes out loud on how different he was with me. I tried flirting with him, that seemed to work and one day more happened. I was completely blown away, he apologized because it was unplanned. I told him it was ok and it was great, not expecting it to happen again but it did and it continued. People started telling me what I was feeling was love, I didn’t believe it I had never been in love before. He even started telling me that I was in love with him and that I should guard my heart. He told me he had no heart because his heart was frozen solid and hidden in a dungeon somewhere.

He told me I had a beautiful soul and I am creative etc., he gave me my favorite nickname (I use it all the time) and I found out that he was dating someone. I tried to leave and he argued against it and told me I was making a bad decision. And so I stayed. I don’t know what I expected from him, I just knew I loved our time together. I loved:

*when he hugged me and tried to take the sadness away

*when I cooked for him and he danced while he ate which let me know he was enjoying his meal

*when we snuggled on the recliner and he talked to me as I laid my head on his chest (I loved the rumble of his voice as he spoke)

*when we cuddled on the recliner and fell asleep together holding hands

*when he trusted me to babysit his pet

*when he came over one day to make a surprise visit because he knew I was sad; I wasn’t at home so he left a note.

I didn’t want or expect any more from him because I knew that I couldn’t and wasn’t ready to give more. I told him I loved him.

Then the inevitable happened,

*he started staying away more than he visited

*he seemed to be always busy

*he told me we were incompatible and we would never be a couple because he didn’t feel that way about me

*he told me “he wasn’t going anywhere”

And I continued to love him because I didn’t want to be in a dating relationship, I knew the energy I would give and the commitment I would make and I knew for sure that I wasn’t ready. Except my brain went crazy and I began to act like the woman scorned. I figured out the things that triggered his visits and I used them to get him to come over. I wrote sad comments on his posts on his Facebook page and I wrote about how sad and hurt I was continually on my Facebook (the memories still pop up, reminding me of my lunacy). The one question I kept asking and I never stopped asking was, “Why me?” I couldn’t understand why he would choose me.

He blocked me on Facebook. He told me he didn’t trust anyone and that nothing I said or did could hurt him, which became a challenge to me and so I said things on Facebook, posted a picture, and really told him how I felt about what he was doing. Until one day he accused me of betraying his trust (I didn’t know I had that) and being hurtful to him. He hated that I talked to people who knew him to find out more about who he was because he wouldn’t tell me. If I tried to end it with him he would tell me how manipulative I was etc. but he was allowed to get angry with me and tell me he needed a “break”.

In all of this madness, my only question was, “why did you choose me and why won’t you let me go?”

He promised me forever and always. He had a sixty-year plan for us. I told him I loved it and wanted forever also. Except he kept letting me down. He would promise to come over and then not come. The latest excuse being, “I fell asleep”. He would punish me for lashing out at him (and oh my God, I said some super mean things). He told me I was crazy and normal people didn’t act like that. I had a psychosis and I was making up stuff that never happened. He would get mad if I called him or when I texted him and questioned why he didn’t respond. He kept telling me that he would leave if I continued to behave the way I was behaving.

I admit I was horrible.

I thought we had something that we didn’t have. I thought he would keep his promises. I thought forever and always meant something. I hated how we were getting less and less time together. How he told me he didn’t have to text me if he didn’t want to because he answered to no one. How he would go days without talking to me or punish me when I didn’t do or act the way he wanted.

In the meantime, my heart just grew more and more numb. I lashed out verbally even more and more. I would send text after text (because I couldn’t call and he wouldn’t respond), I sometimes sent emails. I could feel myself losing control. I didn’t recognize who I was and what I was becoming. I would tell him I was done, and I didn’t want to do it anymore and then beg for him to come back. He would say he needed a break and I would beg for him to not stay away too long.

I had thought that my heart had grown so numb that there was no love left. I couldn’t understand why I kept begging him to stay or to comeback. He stopped snuggling with me and holding my hand. I felt like everything I loved doing for him and with him he had stopped doing. My journal has five years of me asking God, “why did you put this guy in my life”? I have prayed, cried, begged, pleaded with God for answer. I even had a failed suicide attempt because I felt like I had been destroyed and I didn’t understand why God let him enter my life.

Last Thanksgiving, he shared the most devastating news with me. And when I asked why, he just kind of chuckled and told me he didn’t have to answer that. As I drove to New Jersey to spend the weekend with my family, I knew that the love I thought was gone was merely hiding and that I didn’t know how I was going to live knowing that I could love someone who didn’t care about me. That weekend I drove to NJ, drove back home to Maryland and drove back to NJ in 48 hours because my brain was so destroyed and my heart was so wrecked, that I didn’t know what I was doing. He told me he called me to check to see if I was ok. How would I ever be ok?

I have never recovered. I try to enjoy the little time I get with him but Thanksgiving is always on my mind. I live waiting for the day he tells me forever and always is over. My brain hurts and my heart hurts and every day I feel like I’m going to die. I keep asking him and God, “why me?”

“What is it about me that kept us together for five years, even through all my madness and anger and lashing out? I try to understand why he stayed after so many times saying he was going to leave. I have cried, I have said the stuff on my heart and he won’t answer.

I hadn’t seen him in a while and last week I told him “goodbye”. I knew he wouldn’t respond but I sent it anyway. And just like I thought he didn’t respond. The day after, I was feeling really excited about my new hair style and my toes (of course, the first person I want to share anything with is him) so I sent him the picture. We had a conversation and before long he told me that “I might see him that Friday night”. I asked what time, he said 2200/2300. I messaged him at 2315 and he said that he had fallen asleep and he would make it up to me. I decided to be forgiving but because I was in a playful mood, I asked him to send me a picture and to tell me how he planned to make it up. He never responded. The next morning, I said, good morning and there was no response. Later in the morning, I asked, “am I going to see you this weekend?’ he finally responded, “No”. That’s all he said, no explanation, no follow up, nothing. Just “no”.

I felt my brain snap (is this what a psychotic break feels like?) and I gave the craziest response ever, I didn’t even recognize myself. I wanted to apologize but I couldn’t.

One of the things I told him is that he doesn’t know how it feels to love someone who will never love him back.

He finally responded and told me were “officially done and I should never message him again. I shouldn’t respond to the text because he won’t see it because he is going to block me.” I guess you know what I did.

I still don’t know why he chose me.

I still don’t know why the hottest guy chose me.

I don’t know why he stayed.

I don’t know if he ever cared.

*I could write about how all of this has affected the rest of my life. My self-worth. My trust in myself, in others, and in God. There is so much to write about but I won’t share it because the one thing he taught me that will remain with me forever is that “nobody cares”.

I gave him all I could and I got nothing in return. I have nothing to show that he was ever in my life. I have deleted all our pictures and texts because I don’t want to be the girl who tries to get back at him.

If you ask him he will probably say I am mental, and crazy and making things up. That he never did anything and I just made stuff up because of my psychosis.

I lost five years of my life and I feel like I will cry forever. While he gets to walk away unaffected.

The craziest thing about this is that he will never see this note because none of my friends/or our mutual friends will care about me enough to share this with him.

Hey love,

Sometimes our heart chooses a person, there is no rhyme or reason.

I guess I will love you always

I still think you are the hottest guy ever

I can’t believe you chose me

I’ll never understand why

Have a great life!
Your Fay, your unicorn,

Forever and Always.

3.5 Years: It’s Over… September 18, 2016

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Let’s start from the end. It’s been three days since he told me it was over. My heart understands and accepts. My mind has been trying to make sense of it all. He asked me to meet him at the park, I don’t know why. I am not sure what he had hoped to accomplish. Did he want to see me cry? Was I supposed to break down and beg for forgiveness? I asked, “why didn’t you just send me a text?” I told him he made me waste my time coming over here for no reason. I tried to get in my car and he pushed my door closed and told me we were going to talk, because people talk about these things? HUH?!? They talk after a decision has already been made? I guess I might be confused about the process.

So I stood there and I let him talk. I brought up a few points and noted that his answer was the same as he had given for the past three and a half years. I realized that either he was clueless and didn’t understand how human beings should behave or he just didn’t care and never did. I stood there as he spoke waiting for my heart to feel something, to break, to burst, to explode, to disintegrate but nothing happened. I waited for the wobble in my voice that indicated I was about to cry and embarrass myself but it never came. I was simply annoyed that he didn’t just send me a text saying that it was over. A simple text or a phone call. I know it sounds impersonal but my heart didn’t love him anymore and it hadn’t loved him for a while. My journal and my conversations show exactly when I became aware that I had stopped loving him but there was part of me that had loved him for so long that it had become easy to say that I loved him. Even the email I wrote asking for my money back would lead one to believe that I still loved him but that is so far from the truth.

For three and a half years I only wanted to two things from him 1) be my friend and treat me right 2) help me to achieve this one goal that I can’t seem to figure out how to navigate and accomplish. He failed at both and for that whole time I was too afraid to walk away or stand up for myself, because my heart was convinced that I loved him and those few flickers when the “real” him showed up said that some part of him actually loved me.

That night I understood that:

  • he thought I was intelligent but yet too stupid to understand his point of view
  • he wanted me to be his lover and friend but yet invisible to the world
  • I don’t factor in his grand scheme of things and I never did
  • all he ever wanted to do was use me
  • he could throw me away as easily as he tossed his pet
  • no one matters to him but himself

AND most importantly

  • most of this was my fault because I let it happen over and over again. When a person is so hurt by another person that they start planning their suicide, it’s a huge red flag…

…stay tuned for the 3.5 years: the letter


Resolved… October 26, 2014

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I wish I could definitively say that this is my last blog post.

I had plans to get my doctorate, I figured I could do it within the next six years. I looked forward to be doctor. Honestly, I don’t think I could make it those next few years. I don’t know how I am going to get through tonight.

I am ready to go. I don’t want it to be long and drawn out. I don’t want it to messy. I don’t want anything that leaves people with bad memories. I am not concerned about what people think about me and I just don’t want anyone to hurt more than necessary (I know I am assuming that someone would feel hurt, but just in case).

I don’t know how to begin the process. Do I pack up? Do I tell the snake’s (if i call him by his name that will just make me cry more) owner to come pick him up? Should I wash the dishes and clean the car (saying her name makes me a little sad)?

Maybe I will get the laundry done, that way the clothes can easily be given away. I think I will clean the car. I don’t think I need to write a note, if my words weren’t clear before a note is definitely not going to matter.

Why am I thinking about the snake? I really need him to go home first, I feel responsible for him and I don’t want him to suffer. I need to know that someone is taking care of him, treating him right, talking to him. I know I don’t have to worry about him remembering me. I forgot about the plants. I should water them and find someone to take care of them. Maybe I should put them by the dumpster, plants are too much of a responsibility.

i just

Am I Pregnant? October 15, 2014

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I think God cried for me today. Some of this rain must have been the tears I couldn’t shed as once again I was forced to face a reality, I usually try to avoid.
She looked at me, said she liked my top and then asked me if I was pregnant. How many more times am I going to have to face that question? How many more times are people going to tell me that I am next? Or ask me when I plan to have babies?
Am I going to have to get T-shirt that says don’t ask me about babies? Single and loving it? Will never get a chance to be a mom? What should my t-shirt say?
I convince myself everyday that not having a family doesn’t bother me. I tell myself I am happy I have no husband and I am blessed that I don’t have kids. I can usually brainwash myself into thinking that it doesn’t matter if I never have children. I am happy. I love my nieces and nephews and that’s enough.
But there are the baby showers and the bridal showers and the cute little babies and the happiness and the questions asking me when and I am reminded that things are not right.
I have dreamed all my life of my family. I could picture them in my head, I knew my kids’ names. I didn’t want pets, I wanted a family.
And I can’t have one.
It’s taken me, 15 years to get to the point where I could lie to myself and say it doesn’t matter. 15 years of crying and doctors and struggling. I don’t want to be reminded that my life feels incomplete. And I don’t need to hear about the wonders of adoption.
So the answer to the question, am I pregnant is no. Can I get pregnant? By miracles. If you ask me again and I break down in front of you, will that be a good enough answer?
Why does this have to hurt so much?

The End… August 10, 2014

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I think about suicide a lot lately. I feel it’s an option to not having to spend the rest of my life alone. I think it would make others happy to not have to deal with me and my sadness anymore. Suicide would end my struggle to fit in, it would end my need to feel like I belong. I don’t want to be one of the crowd, NEVER THAT, but I want to know that there is some one, some group, some place I could go or be where I don’t feel like an outsider. A place or a person that welcomes me in my uniqueness. I don’t want to continue to feel like everyone is marching to a tune that I don’t hear.
Suicide feels like an option, because when I die I don’t have to worry about belonging or whether anyone cares. I hate when people talk about my laid back attitude or my beautiful soul and other sentiments like that, they simply mean you don’t fit, you don’t belong, I recognize you are different and that’s more than I want. I don’t care for your differences as long as they get me what I want. Your heart means nothing to me.
It’s not me, it’s you!
It’s not me, it’s you!
It’s not me, it’s you!
Every rejection smashes against my soul. I am obviously the problem. They talk about how special I am but yet force me to conform to what they want. It’s always: you do this, but I like this; I want; you don’t listen; I am not interested; you are beautiful but…
But what?!? What’s wrong with me?
I try to be strong and be me, but no one likes that. I try to change and fit their mold, I am uncomfortable, I hate every minute but that’s not enough. There is always something that I miss, something else I should be doing.
Suicide is an option because I am tired. I am tired of not being anyone’s choice.  I am tired of doing and doing and doing and giving and giving and giving. I am tired of opening up my heart and my soul and pouring it out and nothing fills it. The empty days and even emptier nights.
Suicide is an option. It seems like the only option now. My husband said, I never thought about reciprocating. All those things you did for me, I never thought about doing them for you. My non boyfriend says, all those things you do for me, I will NEVER do them for you. You mean very little to me, you are not even worthy of a tiny piece of my heart. The others think I am amusing, I am too sensitive, I am a nice person, I am depressed, I need medicating, I need to get over it, I need to be alone but no one thinks I need to be loved.
Suicide is an option simply because it makes things easier for everyone. No one had to remember to check on me, no one has to bring me a gift when they go out of town or send a text to say hi. No one has to respond to my text, not the really happy ones or the sad ones or the excited ones or the simple ones. No one has to ask me for help or get help. No one has to worry about whether I ate or showered or had a good day. No one has to worry about my mental or emotional health. Or my physical health. The truth is no one worries about those things anyway.
I have always said I don’t want to be anyone’s regret, and I mean that.
Suicide is an option because while I love myself, it’s exhausting to love others and get very little love in return.
Suicide is the only option because I am empty.

The Common Denominator… July 13, 2014

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I can’t ask if he is cheating because we aren’t in a relationship. We agreed to tell the other person if we wanted to sleep with someone else but I don’t know if he remembers. I can’t sleep. I hate being so anxious about this that I can’t function. The worse part is that I am beginning to think this is all my fault.
I wish it was easy for me to fall in love. I wish I was that girl who thought she was in love with every other guy that passed her by, but I am not. If I were that girl I would write this off as lust and swish my hips as I sashayed away. Except I know that I have been in love only once and he wasn’t my ex-husband.
The one says he is not interested in me romantically. He says there is no chance of a romantic relationship between us. He says he is not like my husband and he hates when I make references that compare them. But he is wrong, my husband didn’t want me either.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. There are guys from my past who remember a girl I don’t recognize. These guys want to marry me and be the father of my children. These guys swear they love me and always will. We broke up or never dated for a reason all those years ago, so I know it won’t work. Besides they don’t make my panties wet.
I meet so many new people and guys show interest in me but its only for the sex. I don’t wear fancy clothes, no heels, and I am fat (nothing sexy about me). Maybe I look desperate, that must be it, I look like I will settle for anything. I guess that’s why they are surprised when I turn them down. Some even get verbally abusive.
Something is obviously wrong with me, no one wants the girl I am, just the little bits they can tear off.
I don’t want to be awake in my big lonely bed thinking about whether he is cheating.

Happy Birthday to me… July 4, 2014

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If it were up to me I wouldn’t be here.  35 would be the age I would never become. I would be forever immortalized at 34. Maybe even 16. It’s been a long road to get to today but surprisingly not as hard as I had imagined.  I didn’t believe that things could get easier or life could be happier.  In fact, as I reflect on the last seven months, I can’t say that I noticed my life got easier instead my attitude to certain things have changed. I use to worry about my life, my job, my spirituality, my lack of friends and especially my health. 

Last year I met my soul mate.  I know it sounds crazy. I didn’t want to believe it for a while,  I couldn’t understand how we fit.  Two pieces from very different puzzles,  recognizing each other.  It’s the most complicated relationship that I have ever not been in, and for a long time I let it stress and test my emotional and mental stability.  I had gotten to a place where everyday I cried; at home, work, in the car, stores, church. I was like a wounded animal. One day I decided to stop crying,  I promised to stop caring and I tried to convince myself that I was “done with all this”. That didn’t work.  Nothing I tried worked until I decided to make myself a priority. 

I gave myself seven months to live,  those seven months expired in June.  I thought I was depressed, turns out I was just exhausted from trying to silently impose my will upon others.  I spent so much time trying to understand the “why’s” of life and people instead of living my life.  I was listening to what people told me I should feel, or think, or believe.  In short,  I was NOT the person who I wanted to be,  I had lost me in the noise,  the constant brain-rattling,  soul-smashing noise and I couldn’t find my way out. 

I stopped talking…

Then I stopped listening…

And the voices stopped
And there was silence. I looked around and recognized the place I had found. I knew then that everything would work out just the way it was supposed to and no matter what happened I would be fine.

Now I don’t worry too much about my relationship with my soul mate. I have made SMART goals that I am actively working on in all the previous worry-filled areas of my life.  Things are not perfect, they never will be and I don’t want them to be because then I will be done living.  I know there is still much to do but I am taking my time and enjoying every step.

I make few posts. I journal more and make to-do lists.
I take less pictures. I am too busy enjoying the moments.
I listen to less advice. I am a visual learner.

Lately,  I have been doing me A LOTand it’s the best and most rewarding feeling ever. The noise is mostly gone and usually whatever is left I can tune out with my personal radio station. 

Today,  I can say HAPPY 35th BIRTHDAY to me and really mean it!!!
Today,  I choose to celebrate me!

To the one I love (How I failed as a woman)… May 23, 2014

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My heart completely made this decision.
I wasn’t pretending to not look, yet secretly hoping that I would find someone. I marshaled up some courage and walked in that day. I just wanted some answers, an inkling of hope, an arrow.
Instead I got him.
People told me I was in love. I denied it. Of course, I wasn’t. The last time I was in love none of these emotions occurred, love songs didn’t make sense, I knew for sure movies and books about love were hogwash. There was no question about it, I loved this guy and so I married him and I hoped that what I felt was what a girl in love was supposed to feel. That didn’t work.
I don’t listen to peoples’ love stories, I don’t want to hear about how God loves you and I definitely don’t want to listen to the story of you and your honey.
I know what all the love songs mean now. They should be banished!!! As far as I am concerned ALL movies would be awesome without a love connection.
The moment I discovered love, I uncovered femininity and my life’s direction changed.
They told me I was in love and I denied it. They said its in the way you talk, your smile, your eyes, your walk (oh, they went on and on). I refused to accept it, but the feelings grew.
Love has forced me to face my failures as a woman.
I have PCOS and the way things are shaping up I will never have my own biological children. Guys want kids and even the ones who “don’t want” them want to know its a viable option just in case.
A symptom of PCOS is hirsutism. I get to have that. I don’t like people especially guys to get in my personal space. Why would I want you to see my facial hair? And please don’t touch my face I know you can feel the stubble from my not so good attempt at hair removal.
Insurance companies won’t pay for hair removal because that’s cosmetic. What does it matter that I am a woman and I would like to know what it feels like to be a hair-free woman?
There is a guy who says he loves me, he wants to marry me and be the father of my children. He has been saying this for years. When it comes to women, his turn off: facial and chest hairs on women. Funny, right?
Women with PCOS can be over weight. I am overweight, in fact, based on calculations I am VERY OBESE. I hate clothes shopping because nothing fits right. If I could I wouldn’t leave my house ever, I would wrap up in a robe and never look in the mirror and stop eating.
Everyone has advice on weight loss but no one holds your hand when you have done everything and a month later you’ve only lost a pound or your weight has gone up. How do you tell the skinny ladies at the gym to go home because they make you feel like a loser? Can I ask my friends to stop announcing and celebrating their healthy lifestyle successes and their weight loss? Will people stop patting me on the back and telling me I need to be more consistent and I will get there one day? WHEN IS MY ONE DAY?!?
PCOS comes with many other issues including depression and anxiety. The doctors’ solution: meds. If I gave in and took meds for every issue I suffered with there would be no point in living. I would be the perfect guinea pig for the pharmaceutical industry.
I never really got into the “being a girl” thing, so womanhood is enemy territory . I can’t say I would make a good guy either because I know even less about that side of the fence. Girl talk makes me uncomfortable. I know basic clothes and colors and hair. Girls talk about dating, I sit there and I can’t contribute. What would I say? We went to dinner and I paid? I had to go pick him up from his house? Or by the way that was my cousin. He doesn’t want to be seen with me in public, so we only ever meet at my home for sex. Yes, he is my emergency contact but no he doesn’t trust me enough to tell me where he lives.
Just writing these things, and thinking about the many more I can add reminds me of how much I suck as a woman.
I am not even sure I should mention sex here.
Ha!!! SEX!!!
I need to write it again.
For fourteen years I have been sexually active off and on. Thirteen of those years, I hated sex. It was boring and painful and unimaginative and uncomfortable (I am not too comfortable with people in my personal space or with people touching me). I have fallen asleep during foreplay, many times and imagined myself with another guy so I could appear to be genuinely enjoying the experience. I have gotten compliments on how great I am and been begged for repeat performances (I should win an Oscar). Eventually pretending became learned behavior. I had concluded that something was wrong with me.
I believe I can do anything but the thing that should be most natural to me I have failed.
It’s a good thing, that’s what I hear. I witness it in others and one day I hope to feel it reciprocated.

I am blessed (I think) and equally challenged, because I have finally met the guy who makes love songs and country songs make sense.
The problem is that while I love him. He doesn’t love me. I don’t know if he understands my struggle as a woman or if he even cares. He doesn’t trust me and quite often I feel like he doesn’t want to be seen with me in public. He tells me he will always be there (I am not sure what that means and I am afraid to ask). There are days where I see a different side of him, I feel safe and comfortable. I have no personal space when he is nearby. I want him to hold me and touch me and never let me go. He makes me want to fight the limitations of my womanhood, but what’s the point, because he also helps to remind me that I am less than a woman.
I know that no matter how much I accomplish. No matter the successes that I gain in the other areas of my life. Everything will be overshadowed by the feeling that I have failed as a woman.