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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?┬áHUH?!? 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

 

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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.
LOVE!!!
Lost
Open
Violated
Emotional
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.
LOVE
Life-changing
Oppressive
Vacant
Empty
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?
A JOKE…
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.
SEX!!!
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.
LOVE
Limitless
Opportunities
Vast
Experiences
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.

Now I lay me down to sleep… May 5, 2014

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I love writing. I am discovering that I am not making time to develop my craft/talents. There are so many days that I dream about what I want to write but often don’t begin to write until I am lying in my bed with my eyes half-closed (just like tonight).
I climbed into bed tonight and I was prompted to pray that childhood prayer. But the uniqueness of the words made me want to write them down.
Now I lay me down to sleep…
Lord, I want to thank you for my challenges.
Suicidal thoughts: tried and failed twice. Didn’t attempt a third time because I figured I got God’s message. 22 years later I can say ‘I got it’. This lesson to be learned wasn’t about freeing the earth of my presence, or not going to hell, or caring about the impact of my actions on others.
It was always about me, living the life I talked about. Accepting my choices and being fully open to the consequences.
Depressed: feels like a never-ending state of being. I read some thing that identified it as a state of deep-rest. Deep-rest so powerful in its simplicity. Sometimes the struggles/trials are so multitudinous and so obstacle-filled that we believe our path is blocked and we stop. Our stop may be an admittance of defeat or a proposed short break. The fact that stopping was an option often translates into failure. Suddenly your rest becomes a pit of regrets and hurt holding you from seeing the present and its possibilities. Depression isn’t to be trivialized. I am there. I know exactly what it feels like, I know what I need to do to get out but depression can be like quicksand -if you struggle on your own with no plan you might sink further; its better to have a plan, move slowly and its always nice to have a buddy around who you are sure will throw you a life line.
Fear of success: 22 years of my life I was “small” and I hated every minute of it because I thought I was fat. People said amazingly mean things to me about how I looked, I didn’t wait to hear what the strangers said because those people were supposed to be my family. I never told them how they hurt me to my core and made me doubt myself. Now, I really fat and those same people who wagged their tongues before are wagging them now. I want to respond, to retaliate but I can’t, that’s not the kind of girl I am. So I write. I journal. I blog. I internalize. And I cry.
I AM AFRAID…
Afraid to lose weight and feel healthy. Afraid because…
*Even though I ignore the words, I still hear them, and words do hurt
*I know I need help, but there is no one to ask. No one who will help me beyond saying I have to motivate myself
*losing weight means new clothes, new clothes means shopping, shopping means psychological and emotional torture… Nothing looks right or fits right, I am misshaped and deformed. No one has to tell me I look stupid, I already know it!
My physical health suffers in my present shape but I am so afraid of not being happy in another form that I am stuck. And while I am continuously pushing others to be their best, everyone has given up on me and now I am lagging further and further behind.
As I close my eyes and think about how stupid I look in everything I try on, every piece of clothes I wear, a flash comes to my mind and I think about the small signs of muscle definition I see in my arms and legs.
Of course that might be my own delusions.
Everyday I pray for a person, I don’t want a personal trainer, instead I want a work out partner. Someone who will inspire me not with their words but with their actions.

Someone said to me once, ‘if it wasn’t for you I would never have finished’.
I want to be able to say those words to someone one day.

Off My Chest December 26, 2013

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