Letters Never Sent, 6.

I’m working on a new sporadic segment that will be a series of letters that I never plan to send. Writing is therapy for me. Names will be either omitted or changed for the sake of legal issues that could potentially arise. These will be personal, they will be honest, and they will be heartfelt. My life is an open book.

Letter #6

Dear Cactus Dick,

“If I had it my way I’d slit your throat with the knife that you left in my back.” – BMTH

Your unrelenting selfishness has gone unpunished for too long. Your abuse broke my mind in to thousands of tiny, scared pieces. Three and a half years later I’m still scrambling to find them all. Every red flag they warn you about, every bit of advice you’ve heard in your life is about people like you.

You showered me with affection at the start, convincing me we’re soulmates and should run away to Vegas to get married. The first two months were bliss. We were such a cute couple and everyone was envious of our “love.”

Then one night (seemingly out of nowhere) you broke your tooth from clenching your jaw in anger at me. What did I do to invoke such fury? Oh, right. We were with my friends and I was being the exact fucking same as always but suddenly around them it meant something else, right? “I never knew I was dating such a ‘bro.'” Yeah, definitely a justifiable excuse for dumping me on the spot.

Confused and disappointed, I let it go and went on with my life. One day of crying and I felt better. It had only been 3 months, after all. I got a cat and had a large support system of friends. If I knew then what I know now it all would’ve stopped right there and we’d be fine.

Nope.

You begged for us to get back together because you felt stupid for dumping me over such a small issue (ya think?). This is when your true colors became apparent to everyone but me. You’d constantly brag about how many girls want to fuck you, then you’d text them all night in front of me. If I so much as talked to another male without your explicit and genuine permission I would be accused of cheating or not loving you. You’d go hours without answering your phone when I’d call (but you’d answer for other people) yet if I missed a call from you I was in deep shit. You constantly gaslighted me by accusing me of confusing your likes/interests with my exes (which was bullshit because I still know what they like and it’s not the same as you’ve ever mentioned liking). It got to a point where I legitimately thought you had split personalities. No worries, I support those with mental illnesses and wouldn’t leave you over it. No, I’d fix you. I’d make it all okay. You always told me you wanted me (an atheist) to go to church but when I’d offer you’d shut me down. You’d constantly barrage me with ideas of what I should be like and how imperfect I am.

Then there were the fights. You sneaky cunt. You’d spend the entire car ride to a friend’s house/family gathering/social event riling me up and picking at my insecurities. You’d tell me things about the people we were about to see… awful things (that I know now are most likely not even close to true). I’d get out of the car with no smile; no motivation to be kind to anyone in my company. Then you’d flirt with the first girl you could find to make me jealous. You’d do everything in your power to subtly antagonize me until I’d snap and yell at you in front of everyone. All they saw was me “being crazy” to you; the poor, charming, sweet young man that they love so much. Later, you’d tell them every bad thing you told me with one major difference: you’d tell them that I said it.

Those, among other things, were the red flags. Stupidly, I went on to buy a house with you. You had no interest in it and were content with living with your mom and her boyfriend. I, however, wanted more so I pushed for it. We found the perfect place and bought it. Within a week you had kicked me out of our bed to the guest room. You started hanging with notorious cheaters from work. You’d get texts the length of college essays late at night from girls you never talked about to me. (I never read them but I sure as fuck saw that they existed.)

Feeling dejected and alone, I reached out for help from my friends. I then realized that you had sneakily isolated me from them and I had no one to turn to. I cried myself to sleep every night, alone in the guest bedroom with my cat. I had no idea what I could possibly have done to have you hate me so much so suddenly. You forced me to become addicted to your love only so that it would hurt more when you ripped it away with no explanation. You told me to move out the day that I finally finished unpacking everything (since I’d spent forever painting and scrubbing every single room of the house). You started staying at your mom’s (yeah right). In this time you’d IM me at work and try to get me to chat with you like we were friends still. You told me that I’m so good in bed you may just go celibate

Then you told me to move out asap (because you made me so depressed I started cutting myself for the first time in my entire life at the age of 23). I had no one to help me. No one. I was homeless for a while so you offered to watch my cat until I found a couch to sleep on. You and your vicious hag of a mother abused my cat until the stress almost killed her. That cat fucking loved you, you piece of shit. Abusing my pet because you’re mad at me (for no goddamn reason, may I remind you) is utter bullshit and makes me angrier than anything you ever did to me personally. Still homeless, I had to go get my cat because of this. She wouldn’t even let me near her. How could I blame her? I left her in your “care” for 2 weeks where she starved and got smacked around. Now she’s fine again, thanks for asking (fucking prick).

Then I started hanging with Neb; your supposed bff who you always talked mad shit about and treated like garbage in his time of need. In time, he revealed to me that you had mentioned celibacy to me because you’d been “fuckin’ a 19-year-old who don’ know what she’s doin'”. Your boss’s daughter, even. And the real kicker? She moved in right when you kicked me out. So, essentially, you found a perfectly normal and awesome person, turned me against myself while you tried to force me into a “perfect wife” mold that doesn’t exist, then when my mind snapped and I became unrecognizable you threw me away and replaced me with your next victim. I now know that she wears my ring every single day since you two got married.

I fucked my current bf in your bed.
I hope you slept on the cum stain.

 

Toodles bitch,

xoxo

Letters Never Sent, 5.

I’m working on a new sporadic segment that will be a series of letters that I never plan to send. Writing is therapy for me. Names will be either omitted or changed for the sake of legal issues that could potentially arise. These will be personal, they will be honest, and they will be heartfelt. My life is an open book.

Letter #5

Dear Mom,

I have never felt like I thank you enough. Sure, some of your decisions were less-than-great but we all have learning curves. You did exceptionally well for being such a young single mother. We all make mistakes and there is no manual on parenting that covers every single possibility, yet you still did better than most do.

Mom, you have always been an inspiration to me. Watching you struggle to make my childhood seem lavish and comfortable never appeared strenuous to me (except the one or maybe two times I saw you cry from stress). You always seemed to have everything planned and under control. We went on vacations, we went to festivals, we tried new restaurants, we always had family gatherings for every holiday (no matter how small). Now I know that you couldn’t afford half of it but you still made it work to make sure I had a wonderful childhood.

No words can express my shame in regards to how I acted in my teen years. No one deserves to have their kids talk to them like that (yet, sadly, most have it happen anyway). I can make any number of excuses to rationalize that awful behavior, but I won’t. I will simply say that I truly am sorry from the bottom of my heart.

Having you as a best friend now that I’m “all grown up” has been such a gift to me. Hearing your friends compare me to you is the greatest honor I have ever had bestowed upon me. Looking like you is a gift, but truly showing that I have inherited your personality and morality is a pride beyond measure. You’re my support through all of my hardships.

 

You’re my hero and I love you.

Letters Never Sent, 3.

I’m working on a new sporadic segment that will be a series of letters that I never plan to send. Writing is therapy for me. Names will be either omitted or changed for the sake of legal issues that could potentially arise. These will be personal, they will be honest, and they will be heartfelt. My life is an open book.

Letter 3

Dear Bonono,

There really is no way to start saying this, so here it is: I’m sorry. Sincerely sorry. You always deserved better from me and you never got it. You had me at my worst and stuck by my side only to be hurt again and again. Someday someone will treat you like royalty and you will make them feel complete. Someday someone will let themselves love you like I once did, but they won’t let it fade like I did. Someday someone will know how stupid it would be to give up and stop trying. Until that day comes I hope you never feel too badly about how awful I was to you; I want to know you’re doing okay.

For a long time I meant it when I said “I love you” and I am so sorry that that didn’t last. We were kindred spirits, watching each other grow and learn. Unfortunately, our paths pulled us in different directions and I let it get to my head. I became controlling, dishonest, and flat out mean. I hate that side of myself. I never want to see it again. You never have to see that side of me now that we’ve spent so much time away from each other. Being friends again would be nice for a time, yet eventually we would begin to wonder.

I’m happy now and I want to know you are, too.
If anyone in this world deserves more happiness than they’ve been given, it’s you.

I’ll always care.

If only…

You make eye contact across the freezer in the middle of the grocery store aisle. Nonchalantly browsing through the various meats you keep glancing up to check if he is looking, too. He is.

He saunters up to you, clean black button up shirt unbuttoned just enough to see the muscle of his smooth chest. His swept back hair shines almost as much as his eyes as they pull you in. Before you know it he is inches away, his warm breath tickling your cheek. The alluring scent he emits is familiar and calls to your very core.

Your heart races as he speaks to you and after a while, you realize you haven’t heard one word he’s said. It doesn’t matter. He moves closer, hand on your hip, gently pulling you against him. Your body is a web of electricity as you feel his warmth. You are helpless in his grasp. You are filled with more desire than you knew you possessed. His whispers grow urgent as he leans you back as if you are dancing. Your body begins to ache with the need for him to take you, fully and completely.

Soft piano music drifts in to your mind and this glorious dream of finally making it with Nathan Fillion dissipates. Your alarm clock ruins yet another glorious sexcapade.

nathan-fillion-la-premiere-thor-the-dark-world-02

gender roles

“That’s not ladylike!”
“You can’t do/like that, you’re a girl.””Let <male pronoun> do that, you’ll hurt yourself.”
“You <verb> like a girl!”
“Since when do girls <verb>??”
“You’re pretty cool… for a girl.”
“Whoa, you’re like the only girl who does that/knows about that!”
“You’re much more/less <adjective> than that girl.”

Sound familiar?

I’m sure it does, but it shouldn’t.

If you are a female you’re already painfully aware of how we’re viewed. If you’re a male I’m sure you unconsciously have said at least one of these things in your lifetime. You may be plenty aware of this issue as well, however not on a personal level to the extent that women are. I promise I’m not trying to say anything negative towards men; just stating that it’s not as likely that these things bother men on a personal level (since they have their own “tough guy” standards to live up to; also unfair).

From infancy females are raised to believe they need to act differently than males and vice versa. Pink vs blue, dinosaurs vs princesses, Barbies vs Legos, makeovers vs cars, secretary vs CEO, etc. Thankfully, the American society is finally beginning to stray from those ideas but we have a very long way to go from where we are now. I’m going to throw out a few personal anecdotes that I believe I should not have had to put up with in my life.

As a five year old I was playing dress up with the other girls (the boys were playing outside in the dirt; where I much rather wanted to be) when we were suddenly corralled and told we had to leave soon. The zipper on my elaborate, over-sized dress was stuck and the girls had all already changed. (Although I was participating with them, I wasn’t “girly enough” to really be favored by any of them.) I asked a boy to unzip me since my babysitter also could not be found. He politely did so to and neither of us thought twice about it. I simply needed help and he provided it with no hidden motives or teasing. My babysitter found out and went off on how improper it is for me to let a male touch me, god forbid UNDRESS me, without anyone to oversee it. He and I were both incredibly confused as to why we got put in time out for that. My point for this story is that adults may see things sexually but they should not force sexual ideas on to kids like this when we had no idea what crushes or romance entailed yet. Some adults exploit this innocence in some unfortunate cases to gain sexual favors at the kids’ ignorance. Adults need to understand that kids that age should not be forced in to sex specific roles or restrictions. From that point on I learned that boys’ attention was something to fawn over and crave rather than to appreciate like they are a human being as I am.

Another young incident was being told during recess that I can’t like Goosebumps because I’m a girl and that I should be reading Babysitter’s Club instead. The little boy had no idea what he was planting in my mind for the rest of my life. I was pen pals with R. L. Stine (yes, he wrote me back every time). Who is this little ninny to tell me I can’t enjoy the horror genre as a girl when he is not even interested in it as a boy? I can only wonder how his parent(s)/guardian(s) spoke around him at that young of an age. Again, adults should not be enforcing their gender ideals on to children. It spreads farther than just their family and can be damaging to some unaware classmate enjoying their book during recess. If we as a society want equality it is essential to teach the next generation that they can like whatever the hell they want to like.

Moving on to more recent times; I must say I was absolutely baffled that a lot of the men in my life (friends, romantic partner, family) had no idea at all that the US is one of two countries in the world that does not pay for maternity leave. Women are expected to be back at work within two weeks. Two weeks. Not only is this insanity unfair, but men should care for a lot of reasons. The mother of their children can’t care for their children in early developmental stages without taking severe financial cutbacks. The father figure will then be expected to cover all missed income. Not to mention the lack of maternity leave leaves zero chance of paternity leave. Fathers should be just as privileged to spend time with their newborn babies as the mothers are.

Another shocker recently; my boyfriend had no idea that every single woman carries a weapon or a makeshift weapon on her person at all times in case of sexual violence. He didn’t even believe me until I showed him statistics and an art project where women were asked what they carry for defense and photographed. [What Women Carry To Protect Themselves] It doesn’t matter what you look like or what you wear; it is highly likely you will get assaulted. No one wants to believe it, but it is the unfortunate and sad truth that I face every single time I am outside of my home at night. Thankfully I have not been a victim, but that isn’t for others’ lack of trying. I have been very lucky to escape certain situations (yes, multiple) in my life that could have permanently changed me for the worse.

I don’t have a main point here, this was mainly rambling, but if you want a sense of closure take this point:
Raising awareness of the issues we all face is the first step in creating enough empathy and outrage to fix it. Don’t tell your kids “oh he just likes you” or “she deserved it” and definitely do NOT use gender as a reason to praise or insult another human being. Use their accomplishments or their actions. Don’t raise another generation of sexism.

withdrawal nightmare

I have to get this dream out of my head. Here’s some backstory so that it is slightly easier to follow:

Right now I am suffering from painful SSRI (anti-depression medication) withdrawals (yes, my doctor is who had me ween off of them, it wasn’t a simple decision made on my own). I know it doesn’t sound serious if you have not been through it, but I assure you it is in the ballpark of opiate withdrawals. Shivers, flu symptoms, dizziness (so extreme that I can’t drive), “brain zaps”, muscle aches, extreme anger (and all negative emotions come to think of it), as well as many other things that I am done boring you with. I cry at the drop of a hat over almost everything and I’m so emotional that I can’t handle work or school right now. It is only temporary, but being in my 2nd or 3rd week straight of this I’m starting to feel a little hopeless.

In high school I had a friend that we can refer to as “C” for privacy’s sake. We were such close friends that we called each other our respective twin. Our bond was so close I thought that nothing could ever break it. Eventually we realized we were this close because of sexual attraction, but we could not act on it since I was in a long term relationship with his best friend for seven years. Unfortunately, C stopped caring and stopped respecting us. I started getting nudes, dirty texts, and advances in person. As much as I wanted those and shamefully reciprocated a few, I knew we could not carry on that way and remain friends. My guilt escaped through admittance, I was forgiven, and I tried to move on with my then-boyfriend. We cut C out of our lives completely. Later we learned through mutual friends that C was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia and severe depression. I still feel awful about leaving him without his two best friends during the biggest time of need and I often blame myself for some of his depression and his fears of abandonment. I’m too weighted down with the fear of accepting this blame to make amends or to speak to him again.

My dream started off as me playing Majora’s Mask with the childhood friend who introduced video games in to my life for the long term. We were playing and enjoying reminiscing until, oh my, it was nearly 3 am! Being 25 it was weird to be back in this room  I had spent so much time in as a kid. It was even weirder to walk back home (literally next door) to find my mom still up having a drink with C’s mom.

C’s mom was wiping tears from her eyes with a Kleenex and went quiet as I entered the room. My mom took me aside and we almost stepped on a tiny scorpion (I am unsure what that symbology means in dreams). She let me know that C had started taking massive amounts of steroids and despite looking damn good, his heart was failing at age 24. She said his cartoid artery [after waking I looked up parts of the heart and found it was actually his superior vena cava] was not connected to anything anymore and he may only have a few hours to live (because dreams are just so realistic like that). I panicked and instantly demanded to get his phone number so I can talk to him. She refused saying it would be rude to wake his family at that hour. Crying, I reminded her they were most likely awake and at his side with the obvious exception of C’s mom in the room. She gave in and gave me his cell phone number. I called him to apologize and he decided he wants to come see me.

Immediately upon entering the room it’s apparent that he has some sort of hernia poking out of his chest where his heart should rest and his heart is lower than his stomach; somewhat near his right hip bone. The was a circle suctioned to his skin and I realized this was his cartoid artery searching for life outside of his body. I gave him a hug as gently but tightly as I could. His artery/vein suctioned to me and without thinking, my mom ripped us apart to “solve” the problem. He instantly collapsed as if dead. Overwhelmed with horror I fell on to him and begged him not to die yet. He responded by wrapping his arms around me and trying to kiss me. Knowing he only had hours left to live at most, I obliged and went with it. He asked me why we never tried to make it work with each other. My response was that we couldn’t build a relationship off of our romance only occurring when one of us was cheating. Despite that reply, I gave him another heartfelt kiss. Naturally, this is when my current boyfriend walks in [he has never met C] and had no idea what was going on. I tried explaining but it obviously didn’t sound truthful because it was such an extravagant circumstance. He stormed off threatening to walk in to a fire (one was conveniently burning in my backyard near us).

I became torn between comforting C in every way I could until he passed away and reconciling with the love of my life. As I was pacing back and forth between the two (running from one to the other like an indecisive maniac) C thought I was leaving him again and he died right then and there. My dream ended with me collapsing to my knees and screaming in anguish over the loss.

I feel like this dream is asking me to befriend C again, or to at least apologize to him for letting romance/sexual tension ruin the friendship we had. At the same time, I feel like the dream is warning me not to talk to him again because I’d be endangering my current healthy relationship. Regardless, my eyes are still wet with tears and my heart hurts as if I’m the one with complications. There is also the deep fear that this was prophetic and that he will die soon without ever knowing how sorry I am.

Does anyone else have a different insight or advice to offer? What is this dream trying to tell me?

heartache

Plenty of things in my life are going so very well. The darkness has crept in and changed my relief to heartache that never seems to lessen.

Unfortunately, the loss of a potential child is hurting me more than I had ever anticipated. The moment it was over, my heart filled with regret. I now have the inexplicable urge to replace it. Knowing that the same reasons are in place for not having a child at this point in my life, my sex drive has disappeared. I’m too afraid to go through this again. My relationship isn’t suffering per se but it is now filled with an expectant tension most days. As understanding as my love is, I understand how tough it is for him to truly comprehend my reasons for not wanting sex. He is respectful and supportive, but I can’t help but worry that he feels rejected or that I am becoming uninterested in him. No one is more attractive to me than he is.

In past relationships I had frequently kept a straying eye on attractive strangers and coworkers. This is the first relationship I have truly been happy in. In turn, I don’t have the slightest interest in any other people. No one looks appealing, no one seems flirtatious. I have never felt so secure in a bond with another person before now. This is a wonderful thing, yet I feel tainted. I’ve given my all to people who did not deserve a single shred of it. In turn, I took bits of them with me upon parting and not many bits have been from their good sides. Please, God (or whatever the hell is out there), do not let me fuck this up because of my past. Please let me love fully and honestly. Please let me give him the same amount of love and respect that he gives me every single day.

past lives

I’ve spent a while focusing on getting over the negative portions of my life. Although plentiful, do they really matter in the long run?

My personal theory on spirituality is a mix of many others’ theories; I just happened to come to these conclusions myself before realizing many philosophers and religions mention exactly what I could not articulate. It’s too daunting of a task to sit here and list each of my beliefs on the soul and reality, but one thought in particular has been on my mind frequently today.

Past lives.

I’ve come to realize that most of the population can at least entertain the idea of past lives even if it conflicts with their religious beliefs. So many recollections and encounters that I have read/heard/seen myself are so similar in nature that I can’t deny them in good conscience.

In order to really explain why I am a believer, I need to backtrack a bit and tell a somewhat paranormal story from my childhood. When I had just barely turned five years old I had moved in to a house with my single mom. Having no siblings, I comfortably rested in my very own bedroom. My twin sized bed was against the wall underneath my window. On one evening I woke up cold as ice. Not thinking much of it initially, I rolled over to make sure my window was shut. There was a man laying in my bed next to me fully clothed in professional business attire from head to toe. His mustache was neatly trimmed and his haircut looked fresh. The only thing that kept him from looking completely normal was that he was as white as a marble statue. When he looked at me I could see that his eyes were just white; no iris or pupil. As any kid would, I freaked the hell out and woke my mom up. I spent the rest of the night shivering and clutching her arm while she tried to sleep. Shortly thereafter, she thought it may be a good idea to take me to a psychic that her best friend recommended. I don’t remember anything about the visit other than playing with a zen garden and feeling a warm safe light around me. I don’t know what we discussed or who I thought she was. I had forgotten about it until I was a teenager and odd things began to happen. (That’s another blog entry in the future, sorry guys.) My mom told me the psychic believed I was a young Egyptian boy who was a very, very old soul. A different friend of hers saw a different psychic a few years later. They discussed me and mentioned that I was an Egyptian boy who was an old soul. I had only found out about this encounter after I showed a natural inclination to ancient Egyptian culture.

Throughout my life I have felt memories that I don’t believe are from my current life. The first clear one I remember was quite violent and I had a strong feeling it was in self-defense. I had hair and blood between my fingers with bits of bone fragments. I could feel the horror, the shame, the fear, and the adrenaline. This memory came with the strong thought that I was royalty and defending my family. I was jogging in Phys Ed when this memory struck. It was so random and vivid that I nearly fainted. I still don’t know where it came from or if it was even my memory.

The next memory came in a dream. In reality, I had yet to learn about any geographical wonders like Machu Picchu. In the dream, that is most definitely where I was. The tiered hills were filled to the brim with joyous people in ritualistic clothing. Everyone was drinking out of crude golden goblets and singing to the sky. The sun was coming close to setting and the air felt tingly with energy. A man with bright orange hair like fire (I’m thinking maybe this was ceremonial cloth or feathers) offered me a goblet. It was filled with blood and some kind of wine. I felt at home and excited for the night to come. Years later, I learned about Machu Picchu in school. Upon seeing the photos of this place my jaw dropped. This was not the last time I had dreamed about real places before knowing about them, but the others are so much less significant I will leave them out for now.

After having so many memories that don’t fit my current life, I decided to seek out a hypnotherapist who specializes in past life regression therapy. As much of a believer as I am, I admit even I was highly skeptical. Once the session was done, however, my mind was beyond blown by the detail I could recall. I recognized people in my past as people who I already have deemed my soulmates in this life. Soulmates do not have to be romantic, mind you. The memory drawn out by the therapist was about me being a Native American woman whose tribe was destroyed, forcing me to relocate with the only other survivor. I later married him and had his daughter. He was killed by white men a few years later. Through the memory of the clothing and dwellings, I was able to determine the specific tribes I had been part of and the time I was there. Personally, I have never found American history to be interesting in the slightest. Now, I can’t get enough of it. My daughter is now my little sister who I love as dearly as a daughter. I couldn’t find my mother but I knew she was there. The man I married was recognizable as the man I had started dating only two months or so before my therapy session. Things have gone so easily and so well with him that I have no doubt we have been married before.

Goodness, that took forever to type out!

My main point in sharing this is that each and every life we live is chosen before we are born. Each lifetime has a valuable lesson that your soul must learn before moving to the next lesson. Once your soul has achieved the required knowledge to move on, it does. I don’t know how I know this for certain but my gut tells me it is absolutely true. I believe my lesson in this life is patience. While I know that, I still struggle to achieve it every day. I still have plenty of time to try and try again. The difficulties I endure in this life are crucial to the learning process. I know I get hurt (easily) and things don’t go my way, but that is intentional to teach me to appreciate what does come easily. You can not have light without darkness.

When you are struggling in life, remember that it is only a lesson. It won’t be a problem for all of eternity. Do your best to focus on the root of the problem and how you can fix it. If you aren’t sure you can fix it, meditate on it as often as you can. The answer will come to you.